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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH

OF

CHARLES WILLSON PEALE.

The records of Natural History and of the Fine Arts in
this country would be incomplete, without some notice of a
man who was among the earliest to cultivate a taste for
Painting, and the first to establish a Museum of Natural His-
tory, even when the name of Museum was scarcely recog-
nized from the European dictionaries. It would require
more time than we can now bestow, to perform this duty
with the minuteness which might be desired. We will,
therefore, content ourselves with a slight sketch of his va-
ried career.

His father, Charles Peale, is still remembered by some
of the oldest inhabitants of Maryland as a gentleman of libe-
ral education and pglite manners; greatly respected as a
teacher at Chestertown, where he occasionally oiKciated in
the pulpit, when the clergyman of the parish happened to
be absent. He was a native of Rutlandshire in England;
proud of the freedom which Britons enjoyed, but still
prouder of the advantages which he foresaw were to be de-
veloped here. He died in the year 1750, leaving a widow
and five children, of whom the eldest was Charles Willson,
the subject of the present memoir; Margaret Jane, who
first married a Britisli officer, afterwards Colonel Nathaniel
Ramsay; St. George, who was distinguished as the head of
the Land Office; Elizabeth Digby, who married Captain
Polk; and James, who has been long distinguished as a
painter of miniatures and still life.

Charles Willson Peale was born at Chestertown, on the
eastern shore of Maryland, April 16th, 1741. At an early
age he was bound apprentice to a saddler in Annapolis;
and the habits of industry which he acquired under the ob-
ligations of that servitude, gave a character to the labours
of his whole life, to which was added a perseverance from
his own peculiar temperament, which seemed to delight in
conquering difficulties.

He was married before he was twenty-one years of age,
and for several years carried on the business of his appren-
ticeship; to which he successively added coach, clock and
watch making, and something of the silversmith business.
1

But this variety of occupation, though it amused the eager
and volatile fancy of a youth of very sanguine temperament,
instead of advancing his interest, only accumulated around
him embarrassments which distressed him for a long time.

Hitherto he had thought but little of drawing; yet he
had copied some prints with a pen and ink, had coloured
prints on glass, and even painted an Adam and Eve from
the inspiration of Milton. It was on a visit to Norfolk,
where he went to purchase leather, that seeing a portrait
and some landscapes painted by a Mr. Frazier, — instead of
being stimulated by a display of excellence to aspire to excel-
cnce in art — it was the badness of the performances which en-
couraged him in the idea of surpassing them. He therefore se-
cretly procured some pigments and canvass from a coach ma-
ker, and soon surprised his friends by a landscape and por-
trait of himself, in which he was represented holding a palette
and brushes in his hand, with a clock in the background. He
never could remember to whom he had given this portrait,
or where it had been mislaid, till forty years afterwards, it
was discovered tied up as a bag, and containing a pound or
two of whiting; having travelled, unopened, during the
revolutionar}' struggles, from place to place. This picture
immediately drew him into notice, and procured him em-
ployment, still further to the disadvantage of his original
business.

His mind was now wholly bent on painting, and it was
necessary to procure the proper materials for it. He had
never seen an easel or palette, and knew only the most
common colours which the coach painters then used. For
this purpose he travelled to Philadelphia, which was then
a journey of some fatigue and peril; and in the well fur-
nished shop of Christopher Marshall, was bewildered by
the variety of colours, the names of which he had never be-
fore heard. Some book on painting might relieve him from
this embarassment, and Rivington's bookstore furnished him
with the "Handmaid to the Arts." This, in the solitude
of his lodgings, he studied day and night for nearly a week,
before he could venture upon the selection and purchase of

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF

his paints, with which he hastened back to Annapolis, eager
to commence.

Previous to this, there had been only three persons in
Maryland, professing the art of portrait painting: Cain,
Hesselius, and Woolaston. They were artists from the pa-
rent country, who had made profitable circuits through the
colonies, furnishing to the most wealthy families laudable
portraits and groups in the style of the courtly Kneller.
Mr. Hesselius. however, had married an American lady,
and was living near Annapolis. To him our young artist
looked for the benefit of instruction; and taking with him
as a present one of his finest saddles, requested to see him
paint a picture. Thus instructed, he succeeded in painting
the portraits of several of his friends, much to their gratifi-
cation and pleasure to himself, but little to the advantage of
his neglected saddlery.

Tempted by an offer of his brother in law, Captain Polk,
he accompanied him in his schooner to Boston, where he
became acquainted with IMr. Copley, who received him
kindly and lent him a picture to copy. The sight of Mr.
Copley's picture room afforded him great enjoyment and
instruction. He returned with increased knowledge, and
was patronized by Mr. Arbunkle, whose family he had
painted; besides several neighbours in Virginia. On his
return to Annapolis it was decided by his friends that he
must go to England, and several gentlemen very liberally
subscribed to raise a fund for that purpose, to be repaid by
paintings on his return, which enabled him to undertake
the voyage to London, furnished with letters of recommen-
dation to Mr. West, Mr. Jennings, and others.

Mr. West received him with the greatest kindness, and
freely gave him instructions in drawing and painting.
From an Italian he learned to model in wax; Mr. Flaxman
senior, instructed him in the art of moulding and casting
plaister figures. But when he had been more than a year
in London, and his diminished funds reminded him of re-
turning to America, Mr. West earnestly persuaded him to
remain another year, kindly offering him a residence in his
own house. Additional remittances from America, and
some portraits which he painted in London, through the
recommendations of Mr. Jennings, enabled him to prolong
his stay; during which he made great improvement in oil
painting, learned to paint in miniature, and executed some
mezzotinto engravings. At this time Stuart and Trumbull
were likewise students with Mr. West.

On his return to America, he found constant employment
at portrait painting, both in Annapolis and Baltimore.
Here he invited his brothers St. George and James to join
his family, and instructed them, as well as his sisters, in
drawing and painting. To commemorate this happy groupe,
he painted the large family piece which is in the Philadel-

phia Museum, to which, in his old age, he added a faithful
mastiff. In several visits which he had paid to Philadel-
phia, having found employment, he determined to settle
there, which he did in the year 1776; but the increasing
troubles, produced by the contest with the parent country,
excited his patriotism to join in popular meetings, where
he was distinguished for his ardour. He raised a company
of volunteers, which elected him their captain. With them
he sought the army of General Washington, and was en-
gaged in the battles of Trenton and Germantown; his fami-
ly having retired from Philadelphia into the country, en-
during many privations.

In camp he painted the portraits of several distinguished
officers, which was the commencement of his invaluable
Gallery of American characters; and it was at the moment
he was painting a miniature of General Washington at a
small farm-house in New Jersey, a letter was received an-
nouncing the surrender of Cornwallis. Mr. Peale had his
table and chair near the window, and Washington was sit-
ting on the side of a bed; the room being too small for
another chair. His aid-de-camp. Colonel Tilghman, was
present. It was an interesting moment; but the sitting
was continued, as the miniature was intended for Mrs.
Washington.

Notwithstanding his fondness for the peaceful employ-
ment of the pencil, he was influenced by the spirit of the
times to join in public meetings, where, being often chair-
man, he was drawn into notice, and appointed to offices of
great responsibility. In 1779 he represented Philadel-
phia in the Legislative Assembly, and zealously co-ope-
rated in passing the law for the abolition of slavery. But
he ever afterwards forbore meddling with politics, and
scrupulously confined his attention to painting, mechanical
inventions and occupations. At this time he was much em-
ployed, being, for about fifteen years, the only portrait pain-
ter in the western world.

In the year 1735, the idea of making a Museum of Natu-
ral History first occurred to him. It was suggested by some
bones of the Mammoth which were brought to him to make
drawings from them, and were placed in his picture gallery,
which contained a valuable and increasing collection of
portraits of characters distinguished in the revolutionary
struggles. This new pursuit soon engrossed all his thoughts,
and furnished a never-ending occupation for all his indus-
try, ingenuit}', and perseverance. Unacquainted with the
European modes of proceeding, he had every thing to dis-
cover; and years elapsed before he could succeed in pre-
serving his specimens of animals from the depredations of
insects. The writer of this article has seen hundreds of
birds and beasts, when better specimens were prepared,
burnt in piles — a sacrifice on the altar of experience. Many

CHARLES WILLSON PEALE.

citizens and strangers contributed to enlarge his collection,
and, in a few years, his picture gallery, at the corner of
Lombard and Third streets, after several enlargements, was
found to be too small for his JNIuseum. It was then remov-
ed to the Philosophical Hall, and there was greatly aug-
mented, especially with the skeleton of the Mammoth,*
which was discovered in Ulster county, N. York State, and
disinterred at great expense and labour. Thus, a few
bones of the Mammoth accidentally suggested the idea of a
Museum, which, subsequently furnished its founder with
the means of procuring and displaying to the world the
first skeleton of that antedeluvian wonder, since classified

under the name of Mastadon; which, in its turn contributed
to give character and value to a Museum that now ranks on
an equality with the most celebrated of Europe, founded
and supported as they are, by the wealth of powerful gov-
ernments.

Hitherto no person in America had presented the sub-
ject of Natural History in the attractive shape of lectures.
With the view of combining the result of his own observa-
tions and discoveries, with the facts and observations that
were to be found scattered in various European works, Mr.
Peale delivered at the Museum a course of lectures at once
popular and scientific, which were attended by the most

* In the spring; of 1801, receiving information from a scientific correspon-
dent in the State of New York, that in the autmnn of 1799 many bones of
the Mammoth had been found in digging a marle-pit in tlie vicinity of Nevr-
burgh, which is situated on the river Hudson, sixty-seven miles from the
city of New York, my father, Charles Willson Peale, immediately proceed-
ed to the spot, and through the politeness of Dr. Graham, whose residence on
the banks of the Wall-kill enabled him to be present when most of the bones
were dug up, received every information with respect to what had been
done, and the most probable means of fiiture success. The bones that had
been found were then in tlie possession of the farmer who discovered them,
heaped on tlie floor of his garret or granary, where they were occasionally
visited by the curious. These my father w-as fortunate to make a pur-
chase of, together with the right of digging for the remainder, and, imme-
diately packing them up, sent them on to Philadelphia. They consisted of
all the neck, most of the vertebras of the back, and some of the tail; most of
the ribs, in greater part broken ; both scapulte ; both humeri, with tlie radii
and ulnae; one femur; a tibia of one leg, and a fibula of the other; some
large fragments of the head ; many of the fore and hind feet bones ; the pel-
vis, somewhat broken ; and a large fragment, five feet long, of one tusk,
about mid-way. He therefore was jin want of some of tlie back and tail
bones, some of the ribs, the under jaw, one whole tusk and part of the other,
the breast bone, one thigh, and a tibia and fibula, and many of the feet
bones. But as the farmer's fields were then in grain, the enterprise of fur-
ther investigation was postponed for a short time.

The whole of this part of the country abounding with morasses, soUd
enough for cattle to walk over, containing peat, or turf, and sheU-marle, it is
the custom of the farmers to assist each other, in order to acquire a quantity
of the marie for manure. Pits are dug generally twelve feet long and five
feet wide at the top, lessening to three feet at the bottom. The peat or turf
is tlirown on lands not immediately in use ; and the marie, after mellowing
through the winter, is in the spring scattered over the cultivated fields — the
most luxuriant crops are the consequence. It was in digging one of these,
on the farm of John JIasten, that one of the men, thrusting his spade deeper
than usual, struck what he supposed to be a log of wood, but on cutting it to
ascertain the kind, to his astonishment, he found it was a bone : it was quick-
ly cleared from the surrounding earth, and proved to be that of the thigh,
three feet nine inches in length, and eighteen inches in circumference, in the
smallest part. The search was continued, and the same evening several
other bones were discovered. The fame of it soon spread through the neigh-
bourhood, and excited a genera] interest in the pursuit : all were eager, at
the expense of some exertions, to gratify their curiosity in seeing the ruins
of an animal so gigantic, of whose bones very few among them had ever
heard, and over which they had so often imconsciousl}' trod. For the two
succeeding days upwards of an hundred men were actively engaged, en-
couraged by several gentlemen, chiefly physicians of the neighbourhood,
and success the most sanguine attended their labours : but, unfortunately,
the habits of the men requiring the use of spirits, it was afforded them in too

great profusion, and tliey quickly became so impatient and unruly, that they
had nearly destroyed the skeleton ; and, in one or two instances, using oxen
and chains to drag them from the clay and marie, the head, hips, and tusks
were much broken ; some parts being drawn out, and others left behind. So
great a quantity of water, from copious springs, bursting from the bottom, rose
upon the men, that it required several score of hands to lade it out, witli all the
milk-pails, buckets, and bowls, they could collect in the neighbourhood. All
their ingenuity was exerted to conquer difiieulties that every hour increased
upon their hands; they even made and sunk a large cofier-dam, and within
it found many valuable small bones. The fourth day so much water had
risen in the pit, that they had not courage to attack it again. In this state
we found it m 1801.

It was a curious circumstance attending the purchase of these bones,
that the sum which was paid for them was little more tlian one-third of what
had been offered to the farmer for them by anotlier, and refused, not long be-
fore. This anecdote may not be uninteresting to the moralist, and I shall
explain it. The farmer of German extraction — and like many otliers in
America, speaking the language of his fiitliers better than that of his coun-
try— was born on his farm ; he was brought up to it as a business, and it
continued to be his pleasure in old age ; not because it was likely to free hmi
from labour, but because profit, and the prospect of profit, cheered him in it,
imtil the end was forgotten in tlie means. Intent upon manuring his lands
to increase its production, (always laudable), he felt no interest in the fossil-
shells contained in his morass ; and had it not been for the men wlio dug
with him, and those whose casual attention was arrested; or who were drawn
by report to the spot, for him tlie bones might have rotted in the hole in which
he discovered them ; this he confessed to me would have been his conduct,
certain that after the surprise of the moment they were good for nothing but
to rot as manure. But the learned physician, the reverend divine, to whom
he had been accustomed to look upwards, gave importance to tlie objects
which excited tlie vulgar stare of his more inquisitive neighbours : he there-
fore joined his exertions to theirs, to recover as many of the bones as possible.
With him, hope was every thing ; with the men curiosity did much, but rum
did more, and some little was owing to certain prospects which they had of
sharing in the future possible profit. It is possible he might have encouraged
tills idea; his fear of it, however, seems to have given him some uneasiness;
for when he was offered a small sum for the bones, it appeared too little to di-
vide ; and when a larger sum, he fain would have engrossed the whole of it,
or persuade himself that the real value might be something greater. Igno-
rant of what had been offered him, my father's application was in a critical
moment, and the farmer accepted his price, on condition that he should re-
ceive a new gun for his son, and new gowns for his wife and daughters, with
some other articles of the same class. The farmer was glad they were out
of his granary, and tliat they were in a few days to be two hundred miles dis-
tant ; and my father was no less pleased with the consciousness, and on
which every one complimented him, that they were in the hands of one who
would spare no exertions to make the best use of them. The neighbours.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF

distinguished citizens, of both sexes, who enjoyed the op-
portunity of seeing the objects which they heard explained.
But it was not sufficient that he had written these lec-
tures; they must be delivered by himself; a task, the difli-

culty of which was increased by the recent loss of some of
his front teeth. His ingenuity was soon at work to supply
this deficiency, and with remarkable perseverance he suc-
ceeded, first in ivory, and finally in making complete sets

who had assisted the fanner in this discovery, envious of his good fortune,
sued him for a sliare in the profit ; but they gained nothing more tlian a divi-
dend ofthccosU; it appearing that they had been satisfied with the gratifi-
cation of their curiosity, and the quality and quantity of tlie rum ; no one
could prove that he had given them reason to hope for a share in the price of
any thing his land might happen to produce.

Not willing to lose the advantage of an uncommonly dry season, when the
springs in tlie morass were low, we proceeded on the arduous enterprise.
In New York every article was provided which might be necessary in sur-
mounting expected difficulties ; such as a pump, ropes, pullies, augers, &c.;
boards and plank were provided in the neighbourhood, and timber was in suf-
ficient plenty on the spot.

Confident that nothing could be done without having a perfect command
of the water, tlie first idea was to drain it by a ditch; but the necessary dis-
tance of perhaps half a mile, presented a length of labour that appeared
immense. It was therefore resolved to throw tlie water into a natural basin,
about sLxty feet distant, the upper edge of wliicli was about ten feet above
the level of the water. An ingenious miUwright constructed the machinery,
and, after a week of close labour, completed a large scaffolding and awheel
twenty feet diameter, wide enough for three or four men to walk a-breast in :
a rope round tliis turned a small spindle, which worked a chain of buckets
regidated by a floating cylinder ; the water thus raised, was emptied into a
trough, which conveyed it to the basin ; a ship's pump assisted, and, to-
wards the latter part of the operation, a pair of half barrels, in removing the
mud. This machine worked so powerfullj-, that in the second day the water
was lowered so much as to enable them to dig ; and in a few hours tliey were
rewarded with several small bones.

The road which passed through tliis farm was a highway, and the atten-
tion of every traveller was arrested by the coaches, wagons, chaises, and
horses, which animated the road, or were collected at the entrance of the
field : rich and poor, men, women, and children, all flocked to see the opera-
tion ; and a swamp always noted as the solitary abode of snakes and frogs,
became the active scene of curiosity and bustle : most of the spectators were
astonished at the purpose which could prompt such vigorous and expensive
exertions, in a manner so unprecedented, and so foreign to the pursuits for
which they were noted. But the amusement was not wholly on their side;
and the variety of company not only amused us, but tended to encourage the
workmen, each of whom, before so many spectators, was ambitious of signal-
izing himself by the number of his discoveries.

For several weeks no e-xertions were spared, and tlie most unremitting were
required to insure success ; bank afle rbank fell in ; the increase of water was
a constant impediment, the extreme coldness of which benumbed the work-
men. Each day required some new expedient, and the carpenter was al-
ways making additions to the machinery ; every day bones and pieces of
bones were found between six and seven feet deep, but none of the most im-
portant ones. But the greatest obstacle to the search was occasioned by the
shell marie which formed tlie lower stratum; this rendered thin by the springs
at the bottom, was, by the weight of the whole morass, always pressed up-
wards on the workmen to a certain height, which, without an incalculable
expense, it w^.s impossible to prevent. Twenty-five hands at high wages
were almost constantly employed at work which was so uncomfortable and
severe, that nothing but their anxiety to see the head, and particularly the
under jaw, could have kept up their resolution. The patience of employer
and workmen was at length exhausted, and the work relinquished without
obtaining those interesting parts, the want of which rendered it impossible
to form a complete skeleton.

It would not have been a very difficult matter to put tlicse bones together,

and they would have presented the general appearance of the skeleton; but
the under jaw was broken to pieces in the first attempt to get out the bones,
and nothing but the teeth and a few fragments of it were now found ; the
tail was mostly wanting, and some toe-bones. It was, therefore, a desirable
object to obtain some knowledge of these deficient parts, but if possible to
find some other skeleton in such order as to see the position, and correctly to
ascertain the number of the bones. In the course of eighteen years there
had been found within twelve miles of this spot, a bone or two in several dif^
ferent places; concerning these we have made particular inquiries, but
found that most of the morasses had been since drained, and consequently
either the bones had been exposed to a certain decay ; or else so deep, that a
fortune might have been spent in the fruitless pursuit. But through the po-
lite attention of Dr. Galatan, we were induced to examine a small morass,
eleven miles distant from the former, belonging to Capt. J. Barber, where,
eight years before, four ribs had been found in digging a pit. From the
description which was given of their position, and the appearance of the mo-
rass, we began our operations with all the vigour a certainty of success could
inspire. Nearly a week was consumed in maldng a ditch, by which all the
water was carried oft', except what a hand-pump could occasionally empty :
the digging, therefore, was less difficult than that at Masten's, though still te-
dious and unpleasant ; particularly as the sun, unclouded as it had been for
seven weeks, poured its scorching rays on the morass, so circumscribed by
trees, that the western breeze afibrded no refreshment ; yet nothing could ex-
ceed the ardour of the men, particularly of one, a gigantic and athletic ne-
gro, who exulted in choosing tlie most laborious tasks, although be seemed
melting with heat. Almost an entire set of ribs were found, lying nearly to-
gether, and very entire; but as none of the back bones were found near them
(a sufficient proof of their having been scattered) our latitude for search was
extended to very uncertam limits ; therefore, after working abont two weeks,
and finding nothing belonging to the head but two rotten tusks, (part of one
of tliem is with the skeleton here) three or four small grinders, a few verte-
br<E of the back and tail, a broken scapula, some toe-bones, and the ribs,
found between four and seven feet deep — a reluctant terminating pause en-
sued.

These bones were kept disti-'ctfrora those found at Masten's, as it would
not be proper to incorporate inio one skeleton any other than the bones be-
longing to it ; and nothing more was intended than collate the corresponding
parts. These bones were chiefly valuable as specimens of the individual
parts ; but no bones were found among tliem which were deficient in the for-
mer collection, and therefore our chief object was defeated. To have failed
in so small a morass was rather discouraging to the idea of making anotlier
attempt; and yet the smallness of the morass was, perhaps, the cause of our
failure, as it was extremely probable the bones we could not find were long
since decayed, from being situated on the rising slope at no considerable
depth, unprotected by the shell-marle, which lay only in the lower part of tlie
basin forming the morass. When every exertion was given over, we could
not but look at the surrounding unexplored parts with some concern, uncer-
tain how near we might have been to the discovery of all that we wanted,
and regretting the probability that, in consequence of the drain we had made,
a few years would wholly destroy the venerable objects of our rcsearcii.

Almost in despair at our failure in the last place, where so much was ex-
pected, it was with very little spirit we mounted our horses, on another in-
quiry. Grossing the Wall-kill at the falls, we ascended over a double swelling
hill into a rudely cultivated country, about twenty miles west from the Hud-
son, where, in a thinly settled neighbourhood, lived the honest farmer Peter
Millspaw, who, three years before, had discovered several bones : from his
log-hut he accompanied ua to the morass. It was impossible to resist th«

CHARLES WILLSON PEALE.

of porcelain teeth, not only for himself, but for his friends
and others, at a time when no other person in the United
States had succeeded in the attempt.

About the period when the Museum was commenced,
Loutherbourg in London had got up an exhibition of trans-
parent paintings with moveable effects. A description of
these excited an irresistible desire to effect the same pur-
poses. Here was a vast field opened for his taste and in-
vention; for his labour day and night, and his morning
dreams. At length, the public in crowds witnessed, at the
end of his long gallery of portraits, these magic pictures.
A perspective view of Market street, gradually darkening
into the gloom of night. The street lamps are successively
lighted and sparkle in the diminishing perspective; the
clouds disperse and the pale moon rises. Another picture
represented a prospect in the country, dimly seen at night;

— the cock crows, the horizon brightens gradually into the
glow of sunrise, gay with the chirping of birds which fly
from tree to tree; — presently the clouds arise, thick and
dark, till brightened on their varying edges by the light-
ning's flash, accompanied by the roll of thunder; — the rain
begins to fall, increasing to a heavy shower; but it clears
away and exhibits a splendid rainbow which commences
and dies away gradually. Other pieces admirably repre-
sented the battle between the Bon Homme Richard, com-
manded by Paul Jones and the British frigate Serapis; and
the gorgeous display of the temple of Pandemonium.

Many years before this, an attempt was made to found an
Academy of tiie Fine Arts by the few artists who found oc-
cupation in Philadelphia, chiefly engravers, with Mr. Rush
the carver, and some foreign artists then sojourning witli
us. Landscape and miniature painters, and with them the

solemnity of the approach to this venerable spot, which was surrounded by
a fence of safety to the cattle without. Here we fastened our horses, and
followed our guide into the centre of the morass, or rather marshy forest,
where every step was taken on rotten timber and the spreading roots of tall
trees, the luxuriant growth of a few years, half of which were tottering over
our heads. Breathless silence had here taken her reign amid unhealthy
fogs, and nothing was heard but the fearful crash of some mouldering branch
or towering beach. It was almost a dead level, and the holes dug for the
purpose of obtaining manure, out of which a few bones had been taken six or
seven years before, were full of water, and connected with others containing
a vast quantity; so that to empty one was to empty them all ; yet a last effort
might be crowned with success ; and, since so many diflficulties had been
conquered, it was resolved to embrace the only opportunity that now offered
for any farther discovery. Machinery was accordingly erected, pumps and
buckets were employed, and a long course of troughs conducted the water
among the distant roots to a fall of a few inches, by which the men were en-
abled, unmolested, unless by the caving in of the banks, to dig on every
side from the spot where the first discovery of the bones had been made.

Here alternate success and disappointment amused and fatigued us for a
long while ; until, with empty pockets, low spirits, and languid workmen,
we were about to quit the morass with but a small collection, though in good
preservation, of ribs, toe, and leg bones, &,c. In the meanwhile, to leave no
means untried, the ground was searched in various directions with long-
pointed rods and cross-handics : afler some practice we were able to distin-
guish by feeUng, whatever substances we touched harder than the soil ; and
by this means, in a very unexpected direction, though not more than twenty
feet from tlie first bones that were discovered, struck upon a large collection
of bones which were dug to and taken up, with every possible care. They
proved to be a humerus, or large bone of tlie right leg, with the radius and
ulna of the left, the right scapula, the atlas, several toe-bones, and the great
object of our pursuit, a complete under jaw !

After such a variety of labour and length of fruitless expectation, this
success was extremely grateful to all parties, and the unconscious woods
echoed with the repeated huzzas, which could not have been more animated
if every tree had participated in the joy. "Gracious God, what a jaw ! how
many animals have been crushed by it ! " was the exclamation of all ; a
fresh supply of grog went around, and the hearty fellows, covered with mud,
continued the search with increasing vigour. The upper part of the head
was found twelve feet distant, but so extremely rotten that we could only
preserve the teeth and a few fragments. In its form it exactly resembled the
head found at Masten's ; but, as that was much injured by rough usage,
this, from its small depth beneath the surface, had the cranium so rotted
2

away as only to show the form around the teeth, and thence extending to tlie
condyles of the neck ; the rotten bone formed a black and greasy mould
above that part which was still entire, yet so tender as to break to pieces on
lifting it from its bed.

This collection was rendered still more complete by the addition of those
formerly taken up, and presented to us by Drs. Graham and Post. They
were a rib, the sternum, a femur, tibia and fibula, and a patella or knee-pan.
One of the ribs had found its way into an obscure farmhouse, ten miles
distant, to which we fortunately traced it.

Thus terminated this strange and laborious campaign of three months,
during which we were wonderfully favoured, although vegetation suffered,
by the driest season which had occurred within eight years. Our venerable
relics were carefully packed up in distinct cases ; and, loading two wagons
with them, we bade adieu to the vallies and stupendous mountains of Sha-
wangunk : so called by their former inhabitants, the Indians of the Lenape
tribe. The three sets of bones were kept distinct : with the two collections
which were most numerous it was intended to form two skeletons, by still
keeping them separate,and filling up the deficiencies in each by artificial imi-
tations from the other, and from counterparts in tliemselves. For instance,
in order to complete the first skeleton, which was found at Masten's, the \m-
der jaw was to be modelled from this, which is the only entire one that has
yet been discovered, although we have seen considerable fragments of at
least ten different jaws; while, on the other hand, in the skeleton just dis-
covered at Barber's, the upper jaw, which was found in the extreme of decay,
was to be completed, so far as it goes, from the more solid fragment of the
head belonging to the skeleton found at Masten's. Several feet-bones in this
skeleton were to be made from that ; and a few in that were to be made from
this. In this the right humerus being real, the imitation for the left one
could be made with the utmost certainty ; and the radius and ulna of the
left leg being real, those on the right side would follow, of course, &c. The
collection of ribs in both cases was almost entire; therefore, having discov-
ered from a correspondence between the number of vertebrse and ribs in botli
animals, that there were nineteen pair of the latter, it was necessary in only
four or five instances to supply the counterparts, by correct models from the
real bones. In this manner the two skeletons were formed, and are in both
instances composed of the appropriate bones of the animal, or exact imitations
from the real bones in the same skeleton, or from those of the same propor-
tion in the other. Nothing in either skeleton is imaginary; and what we
have not unquestionable authority for, we leave deficient ; which happens in
only two instances, the summit of the head, and the end of the tail. — God-
man's Nat. Hist, by Rembrandt Peale.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF

Italian Sculptor Ccracchi (who afterwards conspired against
the life of Buonaparte). Among these Mr. Peale was the
only portrait painter in oil. At his house the meetings
were held, and the conversations were often interesting un-
der all the excitements of imagination and genius; but they
ended in a separation into two unproductive parties; the
native artists contented with a school of art, and the for-
eigners swelling with a mighty scheme of a national
Academy.

In the year 1794 another experiment was made at Mr.
Peale's — an academy was formed; some plaister casts were
collected, and arrangements were made to draw from the
life. When the person (a baker) who was engaged to stand as
the model, found himself surrounded by new faces and pene-
trating eyes, he shrunk from the scrutiny, and precipitately
fled. In this dilemma Mr. Peale stripped and presented
himself as the model to his fellow artists. An exhibition
was likewise got up, intended to be annual. It was opened
in the Hall of Independence; comprised a very respectable
display of pictures, cliiefly lent by private gentlemen, and
was well attended by the public.

It was not until ISIO that a foundation could be laid for
a permanent Academy. Again the amateurs of the Arts
were invited to meet at Mr. Peale's; but their number was
so small, and their influence over the public mind so limited,
that nothing but the most zealous exertions of Mr. Joseph
Hopkinson could have availed in procuring the funds which
were necessary to erect a suitable building, and to import
from Europe the requisite plaister casts. Mr. Peale and his
son, who was recently from Europe, laboured incessantly
to mend and display these objects, and to organize the
drawing academies. He lived to see and contribute to
seventeen annual exhibitions.

Early rising, temperate repasts, and industrious habits,
had invigorated his constitution, and he had reached his
eighty-fifth year with but little interruption to his health,
and pleasantly talked of living to be at least a hundred years
old. The manner of his death was strictly accordant with
the peculiarities of his life; for it was not so much the con-
sequence of old age as of too much youth, in imprudently
carrying his own trunk to get up with a stage which he
feared would leave him behind. This induced a violent
palpitation and disorder of his heart, from which he had
scarcely recovered, when he indiscreetly mounted the high-
est ladder at the new building of the Arcade, the upper
rooms of which were being constructed to hold his Museum.
This brought on a relapse and his speedy and lamented
death, in 1827; leaving his Museum as a joint stock to his
cliildren; Raphael, Angelica Kaufman, Rembrandt, Ru-

bens, Sophonisba Carriera, Linnsus, Franklin, Sybilla,
Meriam, Elizabeth, and Titian.

Few men have passed through a greater variety of scenes
and occupations. Perhaps in the organization of his mind
there was too great a propensity to indulge in every novel
occupation; certainly there was a peculiarity of fancy which
controlled him in these enjoyments; he loved to do what
nobody around him could do, and exhibited the most ex-
traordinary industry, perseverance, and ingenuity to accom-
plisli his purposes. His chief delight, though of a cheerful
and social temper, was to find himself alone in the trackless
ocean of experiments, contending with the rough elements
and surmounting difficulties as they followed in successive
waves never sinking, never despairing. At first a saddler,
harness and coach maker; then a silversmith and watchma-
ker; it was not till his 26th year that his eyes opened to the
boundless fields of art; but in this pursuit he mingled the
greatest variety, painting in oil, in crayons, and in minia-
ture; modelling in clay, wax and plaister; sawing his own
ivory, moulding his glasses, and making the shagreen cases
for the miniatures which he painted, at a time when none
of these articles could be procured, owing to the derange-
ments of a revolutionary war. He made himself a wooden
mannequin or lay-figure, upon which to cast his draperies;
made a violin and guitar, and assisted in the construction of
the first organ built in Philadelphia. But it was chiefly in
multitudinous operations connected with his Museum that
he found continual employment for his invention and me-
chanical propensities. Transparent paintings with change-
able effects of light and colour, and figures in motion; the
preservation of every variety of animals; the moulding of
glass eyes, carving wooden limbs, upon which to stretch
the skins of his quadrupeds, with anatomical accuracy, &c.
Many precious months of his life were consumed in per-
fecting, with Mr. J. H. Hawkins, their Polygraph, which
became one of his untiring hobbies, as he never wrote a
letter afterwards without preserving a cotemporaneous
duplicate.

For a number of years he supplied the dificiencies of his
teeth with ivory of his own manufacture, and finally suc-
ceeded in making them of porcelain, not only for himself
and family, but for others, as he prided himself on being
the only operator in this style in America.

We shall close this sketch by an observation of Colonel
Trumbull: "That an interesting comparison might be
drawn between jNIr. Peale and his countryman Mr. West,
who was a striking instance how much could be accom-
plished with moderate genius, by a steady and undeviating
course directed to a single object; to become the first His-
torical painter of his age; whilst the other, with a more

CHARLES WILLSON PEALE. vii

lively genius, was able to acquire an extraordinary excel- However praiseworthy may have been his industry;

lence in many arts, between which his attention was too remarkable or amusing his ingenuity; and productive his

much divided. For had he confined his operations to one perseverance to the success of his INIuseum — he possessed

pursuit he probably would have attained the highest excel- a higher claim to the remembrance and esteem of his coun-

lence in the Fine Arts." trymen. He was a mild, benevolent, good man.

TO

VOLUME I.

PORTRAIT OF CHARLES WILLSON PEALE.

ENGRAVED TITLE PAGE. •

Plate I. Common Deer, (Buck, Doe and Fawn), ... 3

11. Ruffed Grouse or Pheasant, - - - - - 13

III. Eed Fox, ..-.-.. 25

IV. Quails or Partridges, ------ 37

V. Newfoundland Dog, .--... 49

VI. Rough Billed Pelican, - - - - - - 6 1

VII. Prairie Wolves, ...... 73

VJII. 3Ieadow Lark and Snow Bird, - - ... 85

IX. Illustration of Woodcock Shooting, .... 97

X. Goosander and Golden Ejed Duck, .... io9

XI. Grisly Bears, . . . . . . 121

XII. Robin and Blue Bird, - - . . . - 133

XIII. Trout of the Brook and Lake, - . . . 145

XIV. Woodcock, - - . . . . -158
XV. Ground Squirrel, - - . . . . ^69

XVI. Wild Swan, ^^^

XVII. American Argali, - . . . . . ^93

XVIII. Rail, 206

XIX. American Varying Hare, . - . . . 217

XX. The Eed Tailed Hawk and American Sparrow Hawk, - . 229

XXI. Canada Porcupine, - . . . . . 241

XXII. Summer Duck or Wood Duck, - - . . . 252

XXIIL Great Tailed Squirrel, . . . . . 265

XXIV. Raven, 2^9

XATURAL. HISTORY.

No branch of human leai-ning is more intimately con-
nected with the other sciences, than that of Natural His-
tory, and none presents so inexhaustible a fund of inquiry
and amusement. Placed as we are, in the midst of the mul-
tiplied productions of nature, it is almost impossible even
for the most unobservant, to avoid becoming more or less
familiar with the manners of animals, the economy of ve-
getables, and the general phenomena of the earth. From
an acquaintance with these, manifold advantages have alrea-
dy accrued to man, and it is but reasonable to suppose that
a more intimate knowledge of them, will greatly increase
the comfort and enjoyment of the whole human race. The
agriculturist is obliged to acquaint himself, with the habits
and characters of the domesticated animals he employs,
with the qualities of the soil he cultivates, with the nature
of the grain he raises, and with the effects of different me-
teorogical changes. Even the fine arts, though generally
considered as peculiarly appertaining to the domain of the
imagination, greatly depend upon a knowledge of Natural
History. A science, which when taken in its full extent,
is so intimately connected with all our pursuits and plea-
sures, forming in fact the basis of the other sciences, and
far more useful than any for the ordinary purposes of life,
can never be too generally or too industriously cultivated.
Supposing that the study of animated nature is far more
engaging to the generality of readers, and leaving the exa-
mination of plants and minerals to the botanist and geologist;
we shall endeavour in the succeeding sketches of our native
animals, to present such only, as from their holding a more

eminent rank among the brute creation, or from their being
A

peculiarly serviceable or injurious to man, are the most
worthy of notice, and most likely to interest the observer.
In attempting this, we shall not proceed in any regular
or systematic order, or adhere to any system of classifica-
tion in the arrangement of the subjects. But at tlie same
time, the most sedulous attention will be paid to their syno-
nomy and scientific description, and we shall strive to ex-
plain their characters, with as much simplicity, elegance of
expression, and certainty of information, as we can possi-
bly attain. We, however, are far from considering, that
the study of nature consists in the acquirement of words,
the retention of names, or even the accurate description of
species ; under the present elevated views of science, these
are esteemed but subsidiary steps. A prejudiced adherence
to mere nomenclature, as is forcibly observed by a late dis-
tinguished writer, "shuts the door to all further improve-
ment, and has impressed naturalists with an idea, that the
highest object to be obtained, is to label the contents of a
museum, and to arrange stuffed animals like quaint patterns
in glass cases." We would "not wish it to be understood,
however, that we consider nomenclature and scientific ar-
rangement as useless or beneath the notice of a philosophic
naturalist; far from it; experience has amply demonstrated
that a neglect of these, must necessarily involve the sci-
ences in an almost inextricable confusion, and retard, in-
stead of facilitating the acquisition of knowledge.

We do not aim at originality, but shall freely avail our-
selves of the labours of our predecessors, adding however
such new and interesting matter as we may become pos-

NATURAL H) STORY,
scsscd of,, in elucidation oi tlic subjects; our great aim the public, we leave the oandi 1 and judii;ious t« li-'cidc.
being to preseat such a history of our different native aiii- In tJie formation of planv, tiic general aiid the statesman,
nials, rjt may amuse whilst it instructs, and tend to invite the autJior and the i'rtist, are apt to rely too much on their
or:r rea'lers to closer and more minute investigations. ov!i powers and the fortuitous concuiTPnc^ of favourable

ctiti-n.'.tance'-. That which displayed elegance and splen-
With these views we have undertaken riie present dour, when it existed 'only in idea, but too often becomes
work; how far the execution may merit tlie approbation of mean atid uncouth •ss'hen brought into real existence.

THE ET.HTORS.

'f-

CABINET OF NATURAL HI8TORY.

^mmmi(©^ir mwm^^ i^(im^e*

COMMON DEER.
CERVUS VIRGINIANUS.

[Plate I.]
Cervus Virginianus. G^iBi^m.—FaUoiv Deer. Catesbt,
App. ii. 28. Lawson, Carol. 123. — Virginian Deer.
Pennant. Arct. Zool. i. 2,2.—Cariconfemelle. Buffon,
12. pi. 44. — Cerfde la Louisiane. G. Cuv. Ossmen.
Foss. iv. 34. Regn. animal, i. 263. — Cerfde Virginie.
Desm. Mammal, sp. 679. p. 442.— Common Deer.
GoDMAN. i. 306. — Peale's Museum.

The word Deer is derived either from the Teutonic deor,
or from the Greek @^^, and is very variously written and
pronounced, not only by different nations, but also in differ-
ent ages. These well known quadrupeds, belong to the great
order of Pecora or Ruminants; an order, as is observed l)y
Cuvier, exceedingly natural and well determined, nearly all
the animals composing it, being formed on the same model,
tlie Camel alone presenting some slight exceptions to the
common character of the group.

These characters are, having incisors or cutting teeth, in
the lower jaw only, and these generally eight in number;
their place in the upper jaw being supplied by a hardened
gum. Between these incisors and the molars or grinding
teeth, is a vacant space, except in some genera, which are
provided with one or two canines. The molars, which are
usually six in number, are marked on their crowns by two
crescents, whose convexity is turned inwards in the upper
jaw, and outwards in the lower. The feet are terminated by
two toes covered by hoofs, which have flat surfaces closely
applied to each other, giving the appearance of a single hoof,
divided through the middle, whence the terms cloven footed,
bifurcated, &c. The most singular peculiarity of these ani-
mals is that of rumination, or of returning the food to the
mouth, to be again masticated, after it has been once swal-
lowed. This peculiarity arises from the structure of their
stomachs, which are four in number— The first is called the
paunch, and is destined to receive the half masticated food,

when it is first swallowed ; the food soon passes into the se-
cond or bonnet, which is small, globular, and lined by a
membrane disposed like the cells of a honey comb. From
this stomach, in which it undergoes a kind of preparation,
the food is returned to the animal's mouth, to be subjected
to a more complete mastication, after which it is again
swallowed and passes into the third stomach or feck, whose
internal membrane is arranged in longitudinal folds, like
the leaves of a book; it then finally enters the fourth or true
stomach in which it undergoes the process of digestion.
The fat of ruminating animals is harder and more consistent
than that of other quadrupeds, and is well known under the
name of Tallow. Of all the numerous species of animals,
none are so useful to man as those included in this order.
They supply him with the mass of his food, and furnish a
variety of substances indispensable to his comfort and hap-
piness.

The genus Deer, consists of such animals of this order as
are furnished with deciduous horns or antlers, destitute of a
horny sheath. They are generally remarkable not only for
the elegance of their form, the symmetry of their propor-
tions and swiftness of their motions, but also for the excel-
lence of their flesh. Hence it is not surprising that they
have been eagerly hunted in every age, as well for sub-
sistence as for amusement. The most striking and curious
parts of their conformation are the horns, or those osseous
productions of the forehead which are detached and repro-
duced annually, and which, except in the Rein Deer, are
exclusively appropriated to the males. This annual shed-
ding of the horns, however, is not peculiar to the whole
genus, but appears to be restricted to such species as reside
in cold or temperate climates, or in whom these appendages
are of a large size. This provision of nature is a most in-
explicable phenomenon as regards its utility, and yet the
mode in which the process is effected is subordinate to fixed
and immutable laws.

The word horn, which is generally applied to the antlers
of the Deer kind, is apt to lead to erroneous ideas on the
subject, as this antler is a real bone, formed in the same

THE CABINET 0¥ NATURAL HISTORY,

: nd constimted of the same integral parts as other
ii'.)rv..i. These protuberances begin to be developed at a
given age ; Uie lirst appearance being a tubercle, which, iiv
most cases, gradually rises into a simple antler, though in
some s]K-ci(;s it branches off into ramilications; after a cer- j
lain period the development is arrested, and finally the
horn is detached and falls off. The learned translators of
Bluraenbach's Comparative Anatomy* have given the fol-
lowing explanation of this curious process. "The antler
adlieres to the liorital hone, by its basis; and the substance of
the two puLi ts being consolidated together, no distinction can
be traced, when the antler is perfectly organised. But
the skin of the forehead terminates at its basis, which is
marked by an In-egular projecting bony circle, and there
Is neither skin nor periosteumon the rest of it. The time
of its remaining on the head, is one year; as the period of
its fall approaches, a reddish mark of separation is observed
helveen the process of the frontal bone and the antler.
This becomes more and more distinctly marked, until fJie
connexion is entirely destroyed. The skin of the forehead
extends over the process of the frontal bone when the
antler has fallen. At the period of its regeneration, a
tubercle ai-ises from this process, and tekcs the form of the
future antler, being still covered by a prolongation of the
skins. The structure of the part at this time is soft and cai'-
lilaginous; it is immediately invested by a true perios-
teum, containing large a)id numerous vessels, which pene-
trate the cartilage in every direction, and, hj^ the giadiial
deposition of ossific matter, convert it into perfect bone.
The vessels pass through openings in the projecting bonj-
circle at the base of the antler ; the formatioji of this part
proceeding in the saine ratio with that of the rest, the of -jn-
inj^s ai'e contracted and the vessels are thereby pressed,
till a complete obstruction ensues. The skin and perios-
t.-iini tJien perish, become dry, and fall off; the surface of
',.he antler remaining uncovered."

The form and disposition of the antlers differ in every
.species, and the flattened or palmated shape of them in some,
seems to be a provision of nature to enable the animals to
obtain their food from beneath the snow, for it is a re-
markablf' fact tliat this structure is almost wholly confined
TO such as inhabit high latitudes, and is developed in propor-
tion to the length and severity of the climate.

The sense of smell is very delicate in these animals, and
Ihey are exceedingly select in- their choice of food, applying
to it the nostrils, and sometimes the spiracula which seem
to communicate, in some manner, with the olfiictory appara-
tus. This spiraculuni or sinu.s is not found in all species,
some having only a fold of tJie skin or none, whilst in

others it forms ;i sack. The French call tliem larmiers,
believing that thej^ are receptacles for tears; this idea hn:<
also been adopted by fioets: thus, Shakspeare gives the fol-
lowing touching description of a wounded stag:

" Tho wictflicil animal heav'd forih nViili sr-oaiis,
T.hal tlioir discliargc did stretch his leathern cor.t
Almost to bursting : aud the big round tears
Coiirstii one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase.''

The voice of the genus is in geneial disagreeable. The
females produce one or two fawns at a time. In tempcr.'tte
regions this takes place in the spriiig. The intellectual
character of the Deer is far from contemptible; rendering
the chase of the stag very curious. The anuisement ol'
hunting has been as assiduously cultivated among civilized
nations as with the savage tribes who depend upon it for their
subsistence. In fact, it was considered as an art, and accom-
modated with a set of technical phrases. Thus, in the old
works on "Venerie," we find that the j'oung animal in tlv.'
first six months of its life was called a calf or hind calf, it
then became a /moMe>v then&pricket^ brock, or staggurJ ;
next a stag, and after that a Aar/ .• the female, from a hind
calf, becomes fir.st a hearse and tlien a hind. The stag is
said to harbour in tlie place in v\ hich he resides; when he
cries he is said to bell; the pri'V ' '-- '"■■'" is the slot; the
tail the single; his cxcreu < • his horns are

termed his head, and are, in Oraches; in the

third year, spears; in the fotnt "n \HrM-, tv.t: part bearing the
antlers is called tlie beam; he has also antlers, sur-anilers,
and royal-antlers. These animals afford various articles of
utility to man. The firm and solid texture of the horns fits
them for handles to knives and other domestic utensils. The
skin is dressed into excellent leather. The flesh, as we have
before obsei-ved, affords a pleasant and wholesome food.

The Common Deer is found from Canada on the north
to Mexico on the south, and its western range is perhaps
only limited by tlie ocean. This beautiful and delicate
animal Is about three feet three inches in height at the
shoulder, of a light and elegant form, witli a long tapering
nose; the horns reclined on the head turn outwards, and then
form a decided curve so as to present their extremities for-
wards; the burr is of a moderate size, and just above it, on
the internal side of the beam, is a single short nnller, inclin-
ing inwards; the first horn is onlj' a simple pricket, which \h
succeeded b)'- a fork on the summit; in the fifth year, the
antJers consist of two cylindrical whitish and tolerabh-
smootli shafts, separating into two or three snags on the pos-
terior part of it upwards and outwards. In old animals the
superior part of the beam flattens, aud the snags ami point
become dichotomous; while the burr widens considerably,
and sometimes throws out spurious collateral shoots. TIk.-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

horns are usually about twenty inches in length, measured
along the curve, but are subject to much variation, as in
the fourth year animals have been killed with only single
prickets of seven or more inches in length; this malforma-
tion has given rise to a supposition that we had Deer with
single horns in the United States.

The summer coat of the male and female, is of a glossy
cinnamon brown above; the under pai-t of the lower jaw,
throat, belly, lower part of the limbs, posterior edges of
the fore limbs, anterior part of the thighs and inferior
surface of the tail, white. The front is gra)4sh, whilst
the tip of the muzzle is of a deep brown, with two white
spots upon the upper lip; and on the sides of the lower
jaw, at the angles of the mouth, two triangular black spots
are very generally found. The ears are long and pointed,
the eyes peculiarly soft and beautiful. The fawn colour
changes to a fine brown gray in winter. The fawn is of a
lively fulvous brown, marked during the first year with
numerous white spots; towards the latter part of the summer
it loses these, and becomes gra3-ish. Mr. Say observes of
these changes " in this state the Deer is said by the hunters
to be in the gray. This coat is shed in the latter part of
May and beginning of June, and is then substituted by
the reddish coat. In this state, the animal is said to be in
the red. Towards the last of August, the old bucks
begin to change to the dark bluish colour; the doe com-
mences this change a week or two later. In this state,
they are said to be in the blue. This coat gradually
lengthens until it again comes to the gray. The skin is
said to be toughest in the red, thickest in the blue, and
thinnest in the gray; the blue skin is the most valuable."*

There appear to be several varieties of the Common
Deer inhabiting this continent. Mr. Say notices one
obtained in the neighbourhood of Engineer's cantonment,
of which he saw three specimens. In this variety the
feet were marked with a white triangle, the point upwards;
and also having the black mark on the lower lip strongly
characterised. Albinos are by no means uncommon among
this species: Mr. Titian Peale saw three during the past
summer, in Lycoming county in this State, of which he
obtained a buck and fawn; these have since been added to
the valuable collection in the Philadelphia Museum.

The strongest variety, however, is the Long Tailed
Fallow Deer, spoken of by Lewis and Clarke, and since
described under the name of Cervus leuciirus, by Dr.
Richardson, who observes that the name of C. niacronrus
seems to have been intended to designate this species,
but the characters authors have assigned to it, rather apper-
tain to a variety of the Black Tailed Deer. This animal

appears to bear a strong general resemblance, in size, form,
and habits, to the Roebuck of Europe, and has hence
obtained that name among the Scotch Highlanders, em-
ployed by the Hudson's Bay Company, and that of
Chevreidl, from the French Canadians. Mr. Douglas,
who has given an account of it, in the Zoological Journal,
says, it is the most common Deer in the districts adjoining
the Columbia River, frequenting coppices composed of
Corylus, Rubiis, Rosa, &c. on the declivities of low hills,
or dry undulating grounds. Its gait is two ambling steps,
and a bound, exceeding double the distance of the steps,
from which it does not depart, even when closely pur-
sued. In running, it carries its tail erect, which, from
its unusual length, is the most remarkable feature about
the animal. Lewis and Clarke say of it — " The Com-
mon red Deer inhabit the Rocky Mountains about the
Columbia, and down the river as far as where the tide water
commences. They do not differ essentially from those of
the United States, being the same in shape, .size, and
appearance. The tail is, however, different, being of
unusual length, far exceeding that of the Common Deer."
These gentlemen were of opinion, that it was only a
variety of the C. virginianus, and Dr. Richardson
admits that it may eventually prove to be so.

The males shed their horns in January ; soon after
which the new ones begin to be developed; these arrive at
their full growth towards the end of the summer, but
continue in the velvet until the end of September, or
beginning of November. At this time they are fattest and
in the best condition, when the rutting season commences,
and continues about a month, usually terminating about
the end of December. This period is with the Deer a
season of madness. His neck is then swollen, his e}-es are
wild and glaring; he seems to forget his usual timidity and
caution, and wanders through the forest unmindful of dan-
ger, striking his horns with wild impetuosity against any
obstacle that presents itself, and his voice becomes louder
and harsher. "WTien two or more rival males court tlie
favours of the same doe, dreadful combats ensue. They
redouble their cries, paw the earth with their feet, and dash
their heads against each other with impetuous fury. One is
at length disabled, or obliged to seek safety in flight, but
the victor is often forced to renew tlie conflict with a fresh
opponent. These combats are sometimes fatal to both com-
batants, from their horns becoming so entangled with each
other, as to prevent their disengagement, the irritated ani-
mals wear)'ing themselves with fruitless struggles, till they
die from exhaustion and hunger, or fall an easy prey to
wolves. In Maj. Long's Expedition, the following instance*

* Long-'s Exped. to the Rocky Mi

B

* LoDg^"s Expcd. to ihe Rocky Mo

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

is recorded. " As we were descending from one of these
ridges, our attention was called to an unusual noise, pro-
ceeding from a copse of low bushes on our right, at a few
rods from the path ; on arriving at the spot, we found
two buck deer, their horns fast interlocked with each
other, and both much spent with fatigue; one in particular
being so much exhausted, as to be unable to stand. As
we perceived it would be impossible they should extricate
themselves, and must linger in their present situation until
they died of hunger, or were destroyed by the wolves, we
despatched them with our knives, not without having first
made an unavailing attempt to disentangle their antlers. "
Mr. Say also appears to think that this is by no means
an uncommon occurrence.

The doe brings forth one or two, and sometimes, though
very rarely, three fawns. When the period of parturi-
tion comes on, she retires from the society of the young
deer, in whose society she had spent the winter. She
feels the tenderest affection for her offspring, and displays
great sagacity in protecting and bringing it up. She
carefully hides it in some dense thicket, from those
numerous enemies of whom its life is in danger. Even
the buck himself requires to be guarded against. But
between courage and ingenuity, she proves herself a pow-
erful protectress. In the defence of her young, she will
sometimes oppose force to force in the boldest manner; at
others, she, with the same unconcern for her own safety,
offers herself to the chase, to mislead the hunter or beast
of prey, from the covert in which she has secreted her
young.

Deer are supposed to live from thirty to forty years,
though, judging from some instances of the longevity of
the stag of Europe, (C elephus,) it is probable that this
is underrated. Pliny tells us, that more than one hundred
years after the death of Alexander the Great, some stags
were taken with golden chains about their necks, which
appeared to have been put upon them by command of that
hero.

The mild and peaceful character of Deer, affords them
no protection from the hostilities of rapacious enemies.
Wolves and other beasts of prey destroy vast numbers; but
their chief enemy is man, wKo wars with the savage
animals in his own defence, tyrannicps over the domestic
because he finds their services useful, and pursues the
gentle inhabitants of the forests, either for subsistence or
amusement. From the earliest ages, the hunting of Deer
has been pursued with eagerness, and many stratagems
have been resorted to, for the purpose of slaying or cap-
turing these timid animals. We cannot, at this time, allude
to those employed in other countries, and will, therefore,
confine our observations to such as have been successfully

practised by our aboriginal tribes, and their more civilised
successors.

One mode practised by the Indians, is to imitate the cry
of the male, or fawn. The voice of the male calling the
female, is not very dissimilar to that caused by blowing
into the muzzle of a gun or hollow cane, whilst that of
the female calling the young, is ma Tua, pronounced
very shortly. This is well simulated by the native tribes,
with a stem of the Heracleum lanatinn, cut at the
joint, leaving six inches of a tube; with this, aided by a
head and horns of a full grown buck, which the hunter
carries with him as a decoy, and which he moves back-
wards and forwards among the long grass, alternately
feigning the voice with the tube; the unsuspecting animal
is attracted within a few yards, in the hope of finding its
partner, when, instantly springing up, the hunter plants an
arrow in his object*

They are also shot by cautiously approaching them
against the wind, the extreme acuteness of their smell
enabling them to detect the approach of any one, in the
opposite direction, even at very great distances. Hunters
have also taken advantage of the extreme predilection of
these animals for salt, and destroyed great numbers from
coverts established in the vicinity of natural or artificial
salines, or licks. An old hunter, in this State, has informed
us that he killed thirty Deer in one season by this means.
Many are also shot by taking advantage of their custom
of resorting to the water side, at certain times of the day.
The Indians, according to Catesby, were also in the habit
of encompassing a vast space of country, and driving the
animals in to some strait or peninsula, where they became
an easy prey.

Notwithstanding the natural timidity of Deer, they will
fight desperatel)^, when wounded, or brought to bay. In
this state they not only use their horns, but also inflict
severe and oftentimes fatal wounds by leaping upwards and
striking the hunter, on their descent, with the sharp edges
of their hoofs. These wounds were formerly considered
as peculiarly dangerous, particularly at certain seasons of
the year: thus, it is asserted —

If thou be hurt with hart, it brings thee to thy bier,

But barber's hand will boar's hurt heal, thereof thou nced'st not fear.

Whether this verse be founded on truth or fiction, it is
certain, that the task of going in and killing a wounded
Deer, is always attended with considerable peril. W^e are
indebted to Mr. Titian Peale for an account of an adventure
of this kind, which occurred to himself whilst attached to
the Expedition to the Rocky Mountains. Messrs. Peale

* Richardson. Fauna, bor. Am.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

and Dougherty, (one of the hunters to the expedition,) being
in search of Deer on Boyer River, one of the tributaries
of the Missouri, discovered a fine buck, which was wounded
by the latter in the shoulder, the animal, however, still
being able to run, was again fired at by Mr. Peale and
wounded in the fore leg of the opposite side; even this did
not wholly disable it, although it so considerably retarded
its progress, that they thought they should be able to run it
down and then dispatch it; for the sake of greater speed
tliey laid down their rifles, and pursued it, armed only
with their knives. On coming up with the animal, it im-
mediately stood at bay, and for a long time frustrated every
attempt to wound it. Mr. Dougherty then determined,
whilst Mr. Peale engaged the attention of the Deer, to
throw himself under it, and in this position inflict the fatal
stroke. This he attempted, but the infuriated animal,
instead of leaping over him, as was expected, turned on
him, and wounded him with its hoofs, in the manner
already spoken of; whilst thus employed, however, Mr.
Peale closed with it, and was fortunate enough to disable
it so completely, as to rescue his companion from the im-
minent danger to which he had so rashly exposed himself.
Such was the force with which the animal struck, even
when thus severely wounded, that Mr. Dougherty's
clothes, including a thick blanket coat, were completely
cut through, and a wound inflicted on his side.

The Common Deer is said by our hunters to display
great antipathy to rattle snakes, and to destroy them by
leaping on them, and cutting them to pieces with their
sharp hoofs; this fact, extraordinary as it may appear, is
too well authenticated to be doubted. Col. Keatinge, in his
travels in Spain, relates that the European stag has the same
antipathy to vipers, and kills great numbers of them in a
similar manner.

The Deer is sometimes domesticated, which can be
readily done, when it is taken young; it soon becomes
attached to its captor and will learn to follow him like a
dog. When they arrive at maturity, however, it is always
dangerous to approach the bucks during the rutting season,
as they will then attack every one, indiscriminately.

The flesh of the Common Deer is well known to the
epicures of our large cities, in the autumn and winter, at
which times it is brought down in considerable quantities.
This animal also affords a valuable article of commerce, in
its skin, so well known under the name of buckskin.
These are in great demand, and we can form some com-
parative ideas of the aggregate number, and great extension
of the species, from the quantity brouglit to our markets.
Pennant states that as early as 1764, 25,027 skins were
shipped to England from New York and Philadelphia.
From the number annually destroyed, and the rapid settle-

ment of the country, they are becoming much less common
than they were a few years since, although their destruction
during the breeding season is prohibited by law. This may
preserve the race among us for a short time, but cannot
prevent their final extermination. Kalm says, that an
Indian, who was living in 1748, killed many Deer where
Philadelphia now stands. The Indians prepare these skins
for their own use, by scraping off the hair and fleshy mat-
ter, and then smearing them with the brains of the animal
until they feel soft and spongy, and lastly, suspending
them over a fire made of rotten wood till they are well
impregnated with the smoke.

THE ANT-LION.

The observations of the continental naturalists have
made known to us a pitfall constructed by an insect, the
details of whose operations are exceedingly curious — we
refer to the grub of the Ant-lion [Myrmeleon formica-
rius,) which, though marked by Dr. Turton and Mr.
Stewart as British, has not (at least of late years) been
found in England. As it is not, however, uncommon
in France and Switzerland, it is probable it may yet be
discovered in some spot hitherto unexplored, and if so, it
will well reward the search of the curious.

The Ant-lion grub being of a grey colour, and having
its body composed of rings, is not unlike a woodlouse
( Oniscus, ) though it is larger, more triangular, has only
six legs, and most formidable jaws, in form of a reaping-
hook, or a pair of calliper compasses. These jaws, how-
ever, are not for masticating, but are perforated and tubu-
lar, for the purpose of sucking the juices of ants upon
which it feeds. Vallisnieri was, therefore, mistaken, as
Reaumur well remarks, when he supposed that he had
discovered its mouth. Its habits require that it should walk
backwards, and this is the only species of locomotion which
it can perform. Even this sort of motion it executes very
slowly; and were it not for the ingenuity of its stratagems,
it would fare but sparingly, since its chief food consists of
ants, whose activity and swiftness of foot would otherwise
render it impossible for it to make a single capture. Nature,
however, in this, as in nearly every other case, has given
a compensating power to the individual animal, to balance
its privations. The Ant-lion is slow — but it is extremely
sagacious; — it cannot follow its prey, but it can entrap it.

The snare which tlie grub of the Ant-lion employs con-
sists of a funnel-shaped excavation formed in loose sand,
at the bottom of which it lies in wait for the ants that
chance to stumble over the margin, and cannot, from the
looseness of the walls, gain a sufficient footing to effect

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

their escape. When the pitfall is intended to be small,
it only thrusts its body backwards into the sand as far as it
can, throwing out at intervals the particles which fall in
upon it, till it is rendered of the requisite depth.

By shutting up one of these grubs in a box with loose
sand, it has lieen repeatedly observed constructing its trap of
various dimensions, from one to three inches in diameter,
according to circumstances. When it intends to make one
of considerable diameter, it proceeds as methodically as the
most skilful architect or engineer amongst ourselves. It
first examines the nature of the soil, whether it be suffi-
ciently dry and fine for its purpose, and if so, it begins by
tracing out a circle, where the mouth of its funnel-trap is
intended to be. Having thus marked the limits of its pit,
it proceeds to scoop out the interior. ■ Getting within the
circle, and using one of its legs as a shovel, it places there-
with a load of sand on the flat part of its head, and it
throws the whole with a jerk some inches beyond the
circle. It is worthy of remark that it only uses one leg
in this operation — the one, namely, which is nearest the
centre of the circle. Were it to employ the others in
digging away the sand, it would encroach upon the regu-
larity of its plan. Working with great industry and
adroitness in the manner we have just described, it quickly
makes the round of its circle, and as it works backwards
it soon arrives at the point where it had commenced.
Instead, however, of proceeding from this point in the same
direction as before, it wheels about and works around in
the contrary direction, and in this way it avoids throwing
all the fatigue of the labour on one leg, alternating them
every round of the circle.

Were there nothing to scoop out but sand or loose earth,
the little engineer would have only to repeat the opera-
tions we have described, till it had completed the whole.
But it frequently happens in the course of its labours,
sometimes even when they are near a close, that it will
meet with a stone of some size which would, if suffered to
remain, injure materially the perfection of its trap. But
such obstacles as this do not prevent the insect from pro-
ceeding : on the contrary, it redoubles its assiduity to
remove the obstruction, as M. Bonnet repeatedly wit-
nessed. If the stone be small, it can manage to jerk it
out in the same manner as the sand; but when it is two
or three times larger and heavier than its own body, it
must have recourse to other means of removal. The larger
stone it usually leaves till the last, and when it has removed
all the sand which it intends, it then proceeds to try what
it can do with the less manageable obstacles. For this
purpose, it crawls backwards to the place where a stone
may be, and thrusting its tail under it, is at great pains
to get it properly balanced on its back, by an alternate

motion of the rings composing its body. When it has
succeeded in adjusting the stone, it crawls up the side of
the pit with great care and deposits its burden on the
outside of the circle. Should the stone happen to be
round, the balance can be kept only with the greatest
difficult}-, as it has to travel with its load upon a slope of
loose sand which is ready to give way at every step; and
often when the insect has carried it to the very brink, it
rolls off its back and tumbles down to the bottom of the
pit. This accident, so far from discouraging the Ant-lion,
only stimulates it to more persevering efforts. Bonnet
observed it renew these attempts to dislodge a stone, five
or six times. It is only when it finds it utterly impossible
to succeed, that it abandons the design and commences
another pit in a fresh situation. When it succeeds in
getting a stone beyond the line of its circle, it is not con-
tented with letting it rest there; but to prevent it from again
rolling in, it goes on to push it to a considerable distance.

The pitfall, when finished, is usually about three inches
in diameter at the top, about two inches deep, and gradually
contracting into a point in the manner of a cone or funnel.
In the bottom of this pit the Ant-lion stations itself to
watch for its prey. Should an ant or any other insect
wander within the verge of this funnel, it can scarcely fail
to dislodge and roll down some particles of sand, which will
give notice to the Ant-lion below to be on the alert. In
order to secure the prey, Reaumur, Bonnet, and others
have observed the ingenious insect throw up showers of
sand by jerking it from its head in quick succession, till the
luckless ant is precipitated within reach of the jaws of its
concealed enemy. It feeds only on the blood or juice of
insects; and as soon as it has extracted these, it tosses the
dry carcase out of its den. Its next care is to mount the
sides of the pitfall and repair any damage it may have
suffered; and when this is accomplished, it again buries
itself among the sand at the bottom, leaving nothing but its
jaws above the surface, ready to seize the next victim.

When it is about to change into a pupa, it proceeds in
nearly the same manner as the caterpillar of the water-
betony moth ( Cucullia scrophitlarise). It fii'st builds a
case of sand, the particles of which are secured by threads
of silk, and then tapestries the whole with a silken web.
Within this it undergoes its transformation into a pupa, and
in due time, it emerges in form of a four-winged fly,
closely resembling the dragon-flies [Libelhdx,) vulgarly
and erroneously called horse stingers.

The instance of the Ant-lion naturally leads us to con-
sider the design of the Author of Nature in so nicely
adjusting, in all animals, the means of destruction and of
escape. As the larger quadrupeds of prey are provided
with a most ingenious machinery for preying on the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

weaker, so are these furnished with the most admirable
powers of evading their destroyers. In the economy of
insects, we constantly observe, that the means of defence,
not only of the individual creatures, but of their larvae and
pupae, against the attacks of other insects, and of birds, is
proportioned, in the ingenuity of their arrangements, to
the weakness of the insect employing them. Those species
which multiply the quickest have the greatest number of
enemies. Bradley, an English naturalist, has calculated
that two sparrows carry, in the course of a week, above
three thousand caterpillars to the young in their nests.
But though this is, probably, much beyond the truth, it is
certain that there is a great and constant destruction of
individuals going forward; and yet the species is never
destroyed. In this way a balance is kept up, by which
one portion of animated nature cannot usurp the means of
life and enjoyment which the world offers to another
portion. In all matters relating to reproduction. Nature is
prodigal in her arrangements. Insects have more stages to
pass through before they attain their perfect growth than
other creatures. The continuation of the species is, there-
fore, in many cases, provided for by a much larger number
of eggs being deposited than ever become fertile. How
many larvte are produced, in comparison with the number
which pass into the pupa state; and how many pupEE perish
before tliey become perfect insects! Every garden is
covered with caterpillars; and yet how few moths and
butterflies, comparatively, are seen, even in the most
sunny season. Insects which lay few eggs are, commonly,
most remarkable in their contrivances for their preserva-
tion. The dangers to which insect life is exposed are
manifold; and therefore are the contrivances for its preser-
vation of the most perfect kind, and invariably adapted
to the peculiar habits of each tribe. The same wisdom
determines the food of every species of insect; and thus
some are found to delight in the rose-tree, and some in the
oak. Had it been otherwise, the balance of vegetable life
would not have been preserved. It is for this reason that
the contrivances which aui insect employs for obtaining
its food are curious, in proportion to the natural difficulties
of its structure. The Ant-lion is carnivorous, but he has
not the quickness of the spider, nor can he spread a net
over a large surface, and issue from his citadel to seize a
victim which he has caught in his out works. He is
therefore taught to dig a trap, where he sits, like the
unwieldy giants of fable, waiting for some feeble one to
cross his path. How laborious and patient are his opera-
tions— how uncertain the chances of success! Yet he never
shrinks from them, becaase his instinct tells him that by
these contrivances alone can he preserve his own existence,
and continue that of his species. — Lib. Ent. Knotvledge.
C

BASIN OF THE MISSISSIPPI,

IN A GEOLOGICAL VIEW.

The hydrographical basin of the Mississippi displays,
on the grandest scale, the action of running water on the
surface of a vast continent. This magnificent river rises
nearly in the forty-ninth parallel of north latitude, and
flows to the Gulf of INIexico in the twenty-ninth — a course,
including its meanders, of nearly five thousand miles. It
passes from a cold arctic climate, traverses the temperate
regions, and discharges its waters into the sea, in the region
of the olive, the fig, and the sugar-cane.* No river affords
a more striking illustration of the law before mentioned,
that an augmentation of volume does not occasion a propor-
tional increase of surface, nay, is even sometimes attended
with a narrowing of the channel. The Mississippi is a
mile and a half wide at its junction with the Missouri,
the latter being half a mile wide; yet the united waters
have only, from their confluence to the mouth of the Ohio,
a medial width of about three quarters of a mile. The
junction of the Ohio seems also to produce no increase, but
rather a decrease of surface.! The St. Francis, White,
Arkansas, and Red rivers, are also absorbed by the main
stream with scarcely any apparent increase of its width;
and, on arriving near the sea at New Orleans, it is some-
what less than half a mile wide. Its depth there is very
variable, the greatest at high water being one hundred and
sixty-eight feet. The mean rate at which the whole body
of water flows, is variously estimated. According to
some, it does not exceed one mile an hour. % The alluvial
plain of this great river is bounded on the east and west
by great ranges of mountains stretching along their respec-
tive oceans. Below the junction of the Ohio, the plain is
from thirty to fifty miles broad, and after that point it goes
on increasing in width till the expanse is perhaps three
times as great! On the borders of this vast alluvial tract
are perpendicular cliffs, or " bluffs," as they are called,
composed of limestone and other rocks. For a great dis-
tance the Mississippi washes the eastern "bluffs;" and
below the mouth of the Ohio, never once comes in contact
with the western. The waters are thrown to the eastern
side, because all the large tributary rivers enter from the
west, and have filled that side of the great valley with a
sloping mass of clay and sand. For this reason, the eastern
bluffs ai-e continually undermined, and the Mississippi is
slowly but incessantly progressing eastward. §

The river traverses the plain in a meandering course,
describing immense and uniform curves. After sweeping

* Flint's Geography, vol. i. p. 21. t Ibid. p. 140. J Darby.

^ Geograph. Descrip. of the Stale of Louisiana, by W. Darby, Philadelphia,
1816. p. 102.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

round the half of a circle, it is precipitated from the point
in a current diagonally across its own channel, to another
curve of the same uniformity upon the opposite shore.
These curves are so regular, that the boatmen and Indians
calculate distances by them. Opposite to each of them,
there is always a sand-bar, answering, in the convexity of
its form, to the concavity of "the bend," as it is called.
The i-iver, by continually wearing these curves deeper,
returns, like many other streams before described, on its
own tract, so that a vessel in some places, after sailing for
twenty-five or thirty miles, is brought round again to
within a mile of the place whence it started. When the
waters approach so near to each other, it often happens at
high floods that they burst through the small tongue of
land; and, having insulated a portion, rush through what is
called the " cut off" with great velocity. At one spot
called the "grand cut off," vessels now pass from one
point to another in half a mile, to a distance which it for-
merly required twenty miles to reach. After the flood
season, when the river subsides within its channel, it acts
^vith destructive force upon the alluvial banks, softened
and diluted by the recent overflow. Several acres at a
time, thickly covered with wood, are precipitated into the
stream; and the islands formed by the process before
described, lose large portions of their outer circumfer-
ence.

Some years ago, when the Mississippi was regularly
surveyed, all its islands were numbered, from the conflu-
ence of the Missouri to the sea; but every season makes
such revolutions, not only in the number but in the magni-
tude and situation of these islands, that this enumeration is
now almost obsolete. Sometimes large islands are entirely
melted away — at other places they have attached them-
selves to the main shore, or, which is the more correct
statement, the interval has been filled up by myriads of
logs cemented together by mud and rubbish. When the
Mississippi and many of its great tributaries overflow their
banks, the waters, being no longer borne down by the
main current, and becoming impeded amongst the trees
and bushes, deposit the sediment of mud and sand with
which they are abundantly charged. Islands arrest the
progress of floating trees, and they become in this manner
reunited to the land; the rafts of trees, together with mud,
constituting at length a solid mass. The coarser portion
•subsides first, and the most copious deposition is found
near the banks where the soil is most sandy. Finer par-
ticles are found at the farthest distances from the river,
where an impalpable mixture is deposited, forming a stiff
unctuous black soil. Hence the alluvions of these rivers
are highest directly on the banks, and slope back like a
natural "glacis" towards the rocky cliffs bounding the

great valley. The Mississippi, therefore, by the continual
shifting of its course, sweeps away, during a gi-eat portion
of the year, considerable tracts of alluvium which were
gradually accumulated by the overflow of former years,
and the matter now left during the spring-floods will be at
some future time removed.

One of the most interesting features in this basin is "the
raft." The dimensions of this mass of timber were given
by Darby, in 1816, as ten miles in length, about two
hundred and twenty yards wide, and eight feet deep, the
whole of which had accumulated, in consequence of some
obstruction, during about thirty-eight years, in an arm of
the Mississippi called the Atchafalaya, which is supposed
to have been at some past time a channel of the Red River,
before it intermingled its waters with the main stream.
This arm is in a direct line with the direction of the
Mississippi, and it catches a large portion of the drift wood
annually brought down. The mass of timber in the raft is
continually increasing, and the whole rises and falls with
the water. Although floating, it is covered with green
bushes, like a tract of solid land, and its surface is enli-
vened in the autumn by a variety of beautiful flowers.
Notwithstanding the astonishing number of cubic feet of
timber collected here in so short a time, greater deposits
have been in progress at the extremity of the delta in the
Bay of Mexico. Unfortunately for the navigation of the
Mississippi, some of the largest trunks, after being cast
down from the position on which they grew, get their roots
entangled with the bottom of the river, where they remain
anchored, as it were, in the mud. The force of the current
naturally gives their tops a tendency downwards, and by
its flowing past, soon strips them of their leaves and
branches. These fixtures, called snags or planters, are
extremely dangerous to the steam-vessels proceeding up
the stream, in which they lie like a lance in rest, con-
cealed beneath the water, with their sharp ends pointed
directly against the bow of vessels coming up. For the
most part these formidable snags remain so still, that they
can be detected only by a slight ripple above them, not
perceptible to inexperienced eyes. Sometimes, however,
they vibrate up and down, alternately showing their heads
above the surface and bathing them beneath it. So im-
minent is the danger caused by these obstructions, that
almost all the boats on the Mississippi are constructed on
a particular plan, to guard against fatal accidents. They
have at their bows, a place called a snag-chamber, and
confined only to boats calculated for the navigation of this
river; the chamber is partitioned off, about fifteen feet
from the stem, with very stout planks, well caulked, so
that the remainder of the vessel is completely cut off from
this room; and consequently, should a snag strike the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

vessel and perforate her bow, no further mischief accrues,
than the mere filling of this snag-chamber with water.

The prodigious quantity of wood annually drifted down
by the Mississippi and its tributaries, is a subject of geo-
logical interest, not merely as illustrating the manner in
which abundance of vegetable matter becomes, in the
ordinary course of Nature, imbedded in submarine and
estuary deposits, but as attesting the constant destruction of
soil and transportation of matter to lower levels by the
tendency of rivers to shift their courses. Each of these
trees must have required many years, some of them many
centuries, to attain their full size; the soil, therefore,
whereon they grew, after remaining undisturbed for long
periods, is ultimately torn up and swept away. Yet not-
withstanding this incessant destruction of land and up-
rooting of trees, the region which yields this never-failing
supply of drift wood is densely clothed with noble forests,
and is almost unrivalled in its power of supporting animal
and vegetable life.

Innumerable herds of wild deer and bisons feed on the
luxuriant pastures of the plains. The jaguar, the wolf, and
the fox, are amongst the beasts of prey. The waters teem
with alligators and tortoises, and their surface is covered
with millions of migratory water-fowl, which perform their
annual voyage between the Canadian lakes and the shores
of the Mexican gulf. The power of man begins to be
sensibly felt, and the wilderness to be replaced by towns,
orchards, and gardens. The gilded steam-boat, like a
moving city, now stems the current with a steady pace —
now shoots rapidly down the descending stream through
the solitudes of the forests and prairies. Already does the
flourishing population of the great valley exceed that of the
thirteen United States when first they declared their inde-
pendence, and after a sanguinary struggle were severed
from the parent country. * Such is the state of a continent
where rocks and trees are hurried annually, by a thousand
torrents, from the mountains to the plains, and where sand
and finer matter are swept down by a vast current to the
sea, together with the wreck of countless forests and the
bones of animals which perish in the inundations. When
these materials reach tlie Gulf, they do not render the
waters unfit for aquatic animals; but, on the contrary, the
ocean here swarms with life, as it generally does where
the influx of a great river furnishes a copious supply of
organic and mineral matter. Yet many geologists, when
they behold the spoils of the land heaped in successive
strata, and blended confusedly with the remains of fishes,
or interspersed with broken shells and corals, imagine that
they are viewing the signs of a turbulent, instead of a tran-

< * FliiU's Geography, vol. 1.

quil and settled state of the planet. The}' read in such
phenomena the proof of chaotic disorder, and reiterated
catastrophes, instead of indications of a surface as habitable
as the most delicious and fertile districts now tenanted by
man. They are not content with disregarding the analogy
of the present course of Nature, when they speculate on
the revolutions of past times, but they often draw con-
clusions concerning the former state of things directly the
reverse of those to which a fair induction of facts would
infallibly lead them.

There is another striking feature in the basin of the Mis-
sissippi, illustrative of the changes now in progress, which
we must not omit to mention — the formation by natural
causes of great lakes, and the drainage of others. These
are especially frequent in the basin of the Red River in
Louisiana, where the largest of them, called Bistineau, is
more than thirty 7niles long, and has a medium depth of
irom fifteen to twenty feet. In the deepest parts are seen
numerous cypress-trees, of all sizes, now dead, and most of
them with their tops broken by the wind, yet standing
erect under water. This tree resists the action of air
and water longer than any other, and, if not submerged
throughout the whole year, will retain life for an extraor-
dinary period.* Lake Bistineau, as well as Black Lake,
Cado Lake, Spanish Lake, Natchitoches Lake, and many
others, have been formed, according to Darby, by the
gradual elevation of the bed of Red River, in which the
alluvial communications have been so great as to raise its
channel, and cause its waters, during the flood season, to
flow up the mouths of many tributaries, and to convert
parts of their courses into lakes. In the autumn, when
the level of Red River is again depressed, the waters rush
back again, and some lakes become grassy meadows, with
streams meandering through them.t Thus, there is a
periodical flux and reflux between Red River and some
of these basins, which are merely reservoirs, alternately
emptied and filled like our tide estuaries — with this difier-
ence, that in the one case the land is submerged for
several months continuously, and, in the other, twice in
every twenty-four hours. It has happened, in several cases,
that a bar has been thrown by Red River across some
of the openings of these channels, and then the lakes
become, like Bistineau, constant repositories of water.
But even in these cases, their level is liable to annual
elevation and depression, because the flood, when at its
height, passes over the bar ; just as, where sand-hills close

* Captains Clarke and Lewis found a forest of pines standing erect under
water in the body of the Columbia River in North America, which they sup-
posed, from the appearance of the trees, to have been only submerged about
twenty years.— Vol. ii. p. 241.
t Darby's Louisiana, p. 33.

12

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

the entrance of an estuary on the Norfolk or Suffolk coast,
the sea, during some high tide or storm, has often breached
the barrier and inundated again the interior country.

The frequent fluctuations in the direction of river-
courses, and the activity exerted by running water in
various parts of the basin of the Mississippi, are partly,
perhaps, to be ascribed to the co-operation of subterranean
movements, which alter from time to time the relative
levels of various parts of the surface. So late as the year
1812, the whole valley, from the mouth of the Ohio to
that of the St. Francis, including a front of three hundred
miles, was convulsed to such a degree, as to create new
islands in the river, and lakes in the alluvial plain, some
of which were twenty miles in extent. We shall allude
to this event when we treat of earthquakes, but may state
here that they happened exactly at the same time as the
fatal convulsions at Caraccas; and the district shaken was
nearly five degrees of latitude farther removed from the
great centre of volcanic disturbance, than the basin of the
Red River, to which we before alluded.* When coun-
tries are liable to be so extensively and permanently
affected by earthquakes, speculations concerning changes
in their hydrographical features must not be made without
regard to the igneous as well as the aqueous causes of
change. It is scarcely necessary to observe, that the ine-
qualities produced even by one shock, might render the
study of the alluvial plain of the Mississippi, at some future
period, most perplexing to a geologist who should reason
on the distribution of transported materials, without being
aware that the configuration of the country had varied
materially during the time when the excavating or remov-
ing power of the river was greatest. The region convulsed
in 1812, of which New Madrid was the centre, exceeded
in length the whole basin of the Thames, and the shocks
were connected with active volcanoes more distant from
New Madrid than are the extinct craters of the Eyfel or
of Auvergne from London. If, therefore, during the innu-
merable eruptions which formerly broke forth in succession
in the parts of Europe last alluded to, the basin of the prin-
cipal river of our island was frequently agitated, and the
relative levels of its several parts altered (an hypothesis in
-perfect accordance with modern analogy), the difficulties
of some theorists might, perhaps, be removed; and they
might no longer feel themselves under the necessity of
resorting to catastrophes out of the ordinary course of
Nature, when they endeavour to explain the alluvial phe-
nomena of that district. — Lyell's Geology.

* Darby mentions beds of marine shells on the banks of Red River, which
cem to indicate that Lower Louisiana is of recent formation : its elevation, per-
aps, above the sea, may have been due to tlie same series of earthquakes which
ontittues to agitate equatorial America.

THE WISHTONWISH,

OR PRAIRIE DOG.

The name of Wishtonwish has lately become familiar,
from a celebrated novel, by Cooper, bearing this title,
which is the Indian name for an animal described by Say,
in Long's Expedition.

Mr. Cooper has mistaken the animal, and describes it
as a bird, known by the name of Whippoorwill. Say
remarks, that "this interesting and sprightly little animal
has received the absurd -and inappropriate name of Prairie
dog, from a fancied resemblance of its warning cry to the
hurried barking of a small dog. This sound may be imi-
tated with the human voice, Ijy the pronunciation of the
syllable cheh, cheh, cheh, in a sibilated manner, and in
rapid succession, by propelling the breath between the tip
of the tongue and the roof of the mouth.

As particular districts, of limited extent, are, in general,
occupied by the burrows of these animals, such assem-
blages of dwellings are denominated Prairie dog villages
by hunters and others who wander in these remote regions.

These villages, like those of man, differ widely in the
extent of surface which they occupy; some are confined to
an area of a few acres, others are bounded by a circumfer-
ence of many miles. Only one of these villages occurred
between the Missouri and the Pawnee towns; thence to the
Platte they were much more numerous.

The entrance to the burrow is at the summit of the little
mound of earth brought up by the animal during the pro-
gress of the excavation below.

These mounds are sometimes inconspicuous, but gene-
rally somewhat elevated above the common surface, though
rarely to the height of eighteen inches. Their form is that
of a truncated cone, on a base of two or tliree feet, perfo-
rated by a comparatively large hole or entrance at the
summit or in the side. The whole surface, but more
particularly the summit, is trodden down and compacted,
like a well worn pathway. The hole descends vertically
to the depth of one or two feet, whence it continues in an
oblique direction downward.

A single burrow may have many occupants. We have
seen as many as seven or eight individuals sitting upon one
mound. As they pass the winter in a lethargic sleep, they
lay up no provision of food for that season, but defend them-
selves from its rigors by accurately closing up the entrance
of the burrow. The further arrangements which the Prai-
rie dog makes for its comfort and security are worthy of at-
tention. He constructs for himself a very neat globular cell
with fine dry grass, having an aperture at top, large enough
to admit the finger, and so compactly formed that it might
almost be rolled over the floor without receiving injury."

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

RUFFED GROUS, OR PHEASANT.
TETRAO UMBELLUS.

[Plate II.]
^irct. Zool. p. 301, No. 179. — Ruffed Heath-cock, or
Grous, Edw. 248. — La Gelinote hujiec de Pennsyl-
vanie, Briss. i. 214.— P/. Enl. 104.— Buff. ii. 281.—
Phil. Trans. 62, 393.— Tubt. Syst. 454.

This is the Partridge of the eastern States, and the
Pheasant of Pennsylvania, and the southern districts. It
is represented in the plate of about one third of its size;
and was faithfully copied from a perfect and very beautiful
specimen in the collection of S. P. GriflSths, prepared by
T. R. Peale.

This elegant species is well known in almost every
quarter of the United States, and appears to inhabit a very
extensive range of countr}'. It is common at Moose fort,
on Hudson's bay, in lat 51°; is frequent in the upper parts
of Georgia; very abundant in the States of Kentucky and
Indiana; and was found by captains Lewis and Clarke in
crossing the great range of mountains that divide the
waters of the Columbia and Missouri, more than three
thousand miles, by their measurement, from the mouth of
the latter. Its favourite places of resort are high moun-
tains, covered with the balsam pine, hemlock, laurel, and
such like evergreens. Unlike the Pinnated Grous, it
always prefers the woods; is seldom or never found in
open plains; but loves the pine-sheltered declivities of
mountains, near streams of water. This great difference
of disposition in two species, whose food seems to be
nearly the same, is very extraordinary. In those open
plains called the barrens of Kentucky, the Pinnated Grous
was seen in great numbers, but none of the Ruffed; while
in the high groves with which that singular tract of coun-
try is interspersed, the latter, or Pheasant, was frequently
met with; but not a single individual of the former.

The native haunts of the Pheasant being a cold, high,
mountainous and woody country, it is natural to expect
that as we descend thence to the sea shores, and the low,
flat and warm climate of the southern States, these birds
should become more rare, and such indeed is the case. In
the lower parts of Carolina, Georgia, and Florida, they are
very seldom observed; but as we advance inland to the
mountains, they again make their appearance. In the
lower parts of New Jersey we indeed occasionally meet
with them ; but this is owing to the more northerly situa-
tion of the country; for even here they are far less numer-
ous than among the mountains.

Dr. Turton, and several other English WTiters, have
spoken of a Long-tailed Grous, said to inhabit the back

parts of Virginia, which can be no other than the present
species, there being, as far as I am acquainted, only these
two,* the Ruffed and Pinnated Grous, found native within
the United States.

The manners of the Pheasant are solitary; they are sel-
dom found in coveys of more than four or five together,
and more usually in pairs or singly. They leave their
sequestered haunts in the woods early in the morning, and
seek the path or road, to pick up gravel, and glean among
the droppings of the horses. In travelling among the
mountains that bound the Susquehanna, I was alwaj-s able
to furnish myself with an abundant supply of these birds,
every morning, without leaving the path. If the weather
be foggy, or lowering, they are sure to be seen in such
situations. They generally move along with great stateli-
ness, spreading their long tails in a fan-like manner. The
drumming, as it is usually called, of the Pheasant, is
another singularity of this species. This is performed by
the male alone. In walking through solitary woods fre-
quented by these birds, a stranger is surprised by suddenly
hearing a kind of thumping, very similar to that produced
by striking two full-blown ox-bladders together, but much
louder; the strokes at first are slow and distinct; but
graduallj^ increase in rapidity till they run into each other,
resembling the rumbling sound of very distant thunder,
dying away gradually on the ear. After a few minutes
pause, this is again repeated; and in a calm day may be
heard nearly half a mile off. This drumming is most com-
mon in spring, and is the call of the cock to his favourite
female. In the early part of the season, it frequently hap-
pens that this drumming attracts the attention of some
rival cock, which is led to the spot from whence it pro-
ceeds, when a most furious battle takes place between them
as competitors for the hen, and owing to the gameness of
these birds, it lasts for a considerable time; victory, how-
ever, is generally on the side of the injured party, owing
probably to the greater degree of fierceness with which he
combats, in protection of his favourite, than that exhibited
by his antagonist. They fight keenly, and strike exceeding
hard with their wings, alternately seizing each other with
their bills. This drumming is produced in the following
manner. — {Vide Plate II.) The bird, standing on an
old prostrate log, generally in a retired and sheltered
situation, lowers his wings, erects his expanded tail, con-
tracts his throat, elevates the two tufts of feathers on the
neck, and inflates his whole body, something in the man-
ner of the turkey cock, strutting and wheeling about with

* Since Wilson's researches, four other species have been discovered, viz:
Dusky Grous, Tetrao Obscurus. Spoded Grous, T. Canadensis. Long-tailed
Grous, T. Pliasianellus, and Cock of the Plains, T. Uropliasianellus. — Syn.
Birds. U. S. by C. L. Buonaparte.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

great stateliness. After a few manoeuvres of this kind, he
begins to strike with his stiffened wings in short and quick
strokes, whicli become more and more rapid until they run
into each other as has been already described. This is
most common in the morning and evening, though I have
heard them drumming at all hours of the day. By means
of this, the gunner is led to the place of his retreat; though
to those unacquainted with the sound, there is great decep-
tion in the supposed distance, it generally appearing to be
much nearer tlian it really is.

The Pheasant begins to pair in April, and builds its nest
early in May. This is placed on the ground at the root of
a bush, old log, or other sheltered and solitary situation,
well surrounded with withered leaves. Unlike that of the
Quail, it is open above, and is usually composed of dry
leaves and grass. The eggs are from nine to fifteen in
number, of a brownish white, without any spots, and
nearly as large as those of a pullet. The young leave the

With a good dog, however, they are easily found; and
sometimes exhibit a singular degree of infatuation, by
looking down, from the branches where they sit, on the
dog below, who, the more noise he keeps up, seems the
more to confuse and stupify them, so that they may be shot
down, one by one, till the whole are killed, without
attempting to fly off. In such cases, those on the lower
limbs must be taken first, for should the upper ones be first
killed, in their fall they alarm those below, who imme-
diately fly off. This plan is more usually followed by
persons residing amongst the mountains, and who are
unskilled in shooting on the wing; and the dogs employed
by them, are of the springing spaniel, or of some small
breed addicted to much barking. But in the lower coun-
tries and by sportsmen, the Pheasant is hunted with setter
or pointer dogs, and is a very difficult bird to shoot in con-
sequence of its great shyness, as it most commonly keeps
in the thickest cover, and will fly at the near approach of

nest as soon as hatched, and are directed by the cluck of the dog or sportsman, unless indeed the dog be particularly

the mother, very much in the manner of the common hen.
On being surprised, she exhibits all the distress and affec-
tionate manoeuvres of the Quail, and of most other birds,
to lead you away from the spot. I once started a hen
Pheasant, with a single young one, seemingly only a few
days old; there might have been more, but I observed
only this one. The mother fluttered before me for a
moment, but suddenly darting towards the young one,
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, leaving me in great surprise at the inci-
dent. I made a very close and active search around the
spot for the rest, but without success. Here was a striking
instance of something more than what is termed blind
instinct, in this remarkable deviation from her usual
manoeuvres, when she has a numerous brood. It would
have been impossible for me to injure this affectionate
mother, who had exhibited such an example of presence of
mind, reason, and sound judgment, as must have convinced
the most bigotted advocates of mere instinct. To carry
off a whole brood in this manner, at once, would have been
impossible, and to attempt to save one at the expense of
the rest, would be unnatural. She therefore usually takes
the only possible mode of saving them in that case, by de-
coying the person in pursuit of herself, by such a natural
imitation of lameness as to impose on most people. But
here, in the case of a single solitary young one, she in-
stantly altered her plan, and adopted the most simple and
effectual mean for its preservation.

The Pheasant generally springs within a few yards, with
a loud whirring noise, and flies with great vigour through
the woods, beyond the reach of view, before it alights.

trained to this kind of hunting. They are pretty hard to
kill, and will often carry off a large load to the distance of
two hundred yards, and drop dead. This bird, after its
first or second flight, still finding itself pursued, often
resorts to stratagem by either taking shelter in the fork of
some tree, where it will remain immoveable, and suffer its
enemy to pass immediately under it, or it will settle at the
root of some thick bush or tree, and remain so until almost
trodden upon; it will then rise, and darting off behind this
intervening object, completely elude its pursuer.

In deep snows they are usually taken in traps, commonly
dead traps, supported by a figure 4 trigger; at this season,
when suddenly alarmed, they will frequently dive into the
snow, particularly when it has newly fallen, and coming
out at a considerable distance, again take wing. Another
manner of catching these birds, is by fencing off with dead
brush-wood to the height of three or four feet, some nan ow
thicket generally resorted to by them, and leaving it im-
passable except through several holes placed at regular
distances, into which nooses made of horse-hair are sus-
pended; the Pheasant, after running along the fence, finds
no other passage, attempts to get through these holes, and
is almost sure to fall a victim to these artifices of the country
boys. Sometimes in the depth of winter they approach
the farm house, and lurk near the barn, or about the
garden. They have also been often taken young and
tamed, so as to associate with the fowls; and their eggs
have frequently been hatched under the common hen; but
these rarely survive until full grown. They are exceed-
ingly fond of the seeds of grapes; occasionally eat ants,
chesnuts, black berries, and various vegetables, and in the
spring of the year the tender buds of the young

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

15

Formerly they were numerous in the immediate vicinity
of Philadelphia; but as the woods were cleared, and popu-
lation increased, they retreated to the interior. At present
there are very few to be found within several miles of the
city, and those only singly, in the most solitaiy and retired
woody recesses.

In the uninhabited wilds of the north, fai- from the per-
secuting energies of its great enemy, man, this bird be-
comes almost as tame as the domestic fowl, and will seldom
fly at the approach of the traveller, but contents itself by
merely walking a short distance from his path to avoid him.
In the State of Maine, Mr. T. R. Peale saw a great num-
ber, and experienced this fact, as they could scarcely be
made to fly; and if chased would only run but a few yards
into the bushes, and then stop.

The Pheasant is in best order for the table in September
and October. At this season they feed chiefly on whortle-
berries, and the little red aromatic partridge-berries, the
last of which gives their flesh a peculiar delicate flavour.
With the former our mountains are literally covered from
August to November; and these constitute at that season
the greater part of their food. During the deep snows of
winter, they have recourse to the buds of alder, and the
tender buds of the laurel. I have frequently found their
crops distended with a large handful of these latter alone;
and it has been confidently asserted, that after having fed
for some time on the laurel buds, their flesh becomes highly
dangerous to eat of, partaking of the poisonous qualities of
the plant. The same has been asserted of the flesh of the
deer, when in severe weather, and deep snows, they sub-
sist on the leaves and bark of the laurel. Though I have
myself eat freely of the flesh of the Pheasant, after empty-
ing it of large quantities of laurel buds, without experi-
encing any bad consequences, yet, from the respectabilit}'^
of those, some of them eminent physicians, who have par-
ticularized cases in which it has proved deleterious, and
even fatal, I am inclined to believe that in certain cases
where this kind of food has been long continued, and the
birds allowed to remain undrawn for several days, until
the contents of the crop and stomach have had time to
diffuse themselves through the flesh, as is too often the
case, it may be unwholesome, and even dangerous. Great
numbers of these birds are brought to our markets, at all
times during fall and winter, some of which are brought
from a distance of more than a hundred miles, and have
been probably dead a week or two, unpicked and undrawn,
before they are purchased for the table. Regulations, pro-
hibiting them from being brought to market, unless picked
and drawn, would very probably be a sufiicient security
from all danger. At these inclement seasons, however,
they are generally lean and dry, and indeed at all times

their flesh is far inferior to that of the Quail, or of the
Pinnated Grous. They are usually sold in Philadelphia
market at from three quarters of a dollar to a dollar and a
quarter a pair, and sometimes higher.

The Pheasant or Partridge of New England, is eighteen
inches long, and twenty-three inches in extent; bill a horn
colour, paler below; eye reddish hazel, immediately above
which is a small spot of bare skin of a scarlet colour;
crested head and neck variegated with black, red brown,
white and pale brown; sides of the neck furnished with a
tuft of large black feathers, twenty-nine or thirty in num-
ber, which it occasionally raises: this tuft covers a large
space of the neck destitute of feathers; body above a bright
rust colour, marked with oval spots of yellowish white,
and sprinkled with black; wings plain olive brown, exte-
riorly edged with white, spotted with olive; the tail is
rounding, extends five inches beyond the tips of the wings,
is of a bright reddish brown, beautifully marked with
numerous waving transverse bars of black, is also crossed
by a broad band of black within half an inch of the tip,
which is bluish white, thickly sprinkled and speckled with
black; body below white, marked with large blotches of
pale brown; the legs are covered half way to the feet with
hairy down, of a brownish white colour; legs and feet pale
ash; toes pectinated along the sides, the two exterior ones
joined at the base as far as the first joint by a membrane;
vent yellowish rust colour.

The female and young birds differ in having the ruff or
tufts of feathers on the neck of a dark brown colour, as
well as the bar of black on the tail inclining much to the
same tint.

HUNTING SPIDERS.

There is a tribe of hunting Spiders that leap like
tigers on their prey, and, what is more extraordinary, have
the faculty of doing so sideways. One of these jumped
two feet on a humble-bee. They approach the object of
their intended attack with the noiseless and imperceptible
motion of the shadow of a sun-dial. If the fly move, the
Spider moves also, backwards, forwards, or sideways,
and that with so much precision as to time and distance,
that the two insects appear as if bound together by some
invisible chain, or actuated by the same spirit. If the fly
take wing and pitch behind the Spider, the head of the lat-
ter is turned round to meet it so quickly that the human eye
is deceived, and the Spider appears to be motionless.
When all these manoeuvres bring the fly within its springs,
the leap is made with fearful rapidity, and the pre}' struck
down like lightning. The redeeming trait in the history of
these cruel creatures is affection for their yoMng.—Fam.Lib.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

" By various sports,
O'er hills, through vallies and by river's brink,
Is life both sweeten'd and prolong'd."

THE USEFULNESS OF SPORTING.

It has often been said, that the benefit from any exer-
cise depended very much upon the immediate effect on the
mind and feelings, and that those amusements were conse-
quently the most useful, that produced the greatest portion
of gaiety and hope.

Of all the active relaxations that can be enjoyed, few
rank in the production of these charms of life, with the
various modifications of sporting.

Independent of the simple exercise which can be prac-
tised in other modes, the mind and heart become so inter-
ested that few of the ills of life can "bear with heavy
hand" on the enthusiastic railer, or the industrious hunter
of the woods. He forgets in the all-absorbing excitement,
the pains of body or of mind diseased; throws aside the
pressure of care, and loses in the thrilling luxury of the
moment, the recollection of distresses that had almost borne
him to the earth. Men who are fond of these amusements,
are enabled by the simple exhileration of mind, to pass
through exposure and fatigue, that in more dispassionate
moments would have produced overwhelming exhaustion
and disease, and in the infatuating enjoyment of successful
sport, we feel transported to a state of bliss, the recollection
of which

"Will well repay,
For many a long, cold night and weary day."

To a sportsman the sight or sound of a gun, of a hunting
dog or game bird, has music in them that will reach his
very heart, and recall

" Many a pleasure of days gone by,"

and even in the " sear and yellow leaf of existence," I have
seen the remembrance of field-delights long since faded in
the vista of years, recall a rejuvenescence of feelings that
seemed to rob life of its tedium, and age of its feebleness.

Of the advantages of sporting to the health, too much
cannot be said. Whether confined to the diminutive cir-
cumference of a boat, or roaming the wide, wild range of
mountain forest, the immediate effects are immense. The
circulation of the blood is increased and regulated, nervous
derangements corrected, digestion improved, muscular
pain and debility destroyed, and even some of the alarming
complaints of the lungs more certainly removed, than by
all tlie nostrums that ever emanated from a " licensed

murderer." Many astonishing cures have been made by
that most effective of all surgical instruments, the gun;
and the fishing pole and box of worms have cheated death
of more victims than the pestal and pill boxes of half the
apothecaries. This I have often seen exemplified in cases
that had long been targets for medical archery, and would
still live in spite of the doctors; when, after every regular
means had been used to "kill or cure" in vain, the patient
has turned tail on the quackeries of science, and fled to
the more grateful medicaments of country air and sylvan
music, and instead of being cajoled into vain hope by
bread pills, or frightened to death by long bills, he is
consoled into certain health by administering lead pills,
and charmed into a long life by being at the death of
many a bill far more agreeable to the sight.

Even some of the very serious complaints of the lungs,
as discharges of blood, I have known entirely removed
by these means; and in one gentleman of this city, the
fatiguing amusement of partridge shooting, was his only
effective remedy when the blood would appear at every
cough. A physician of respectability, "who would infal-
libly have consumption if he in the least exposed himself,"
according to the omniscient opinion of one of these retail-
ers of health, was perfectly cured of all his ailments by the
rugged labours of a sportsman.

I have known cases of rheumatism, where the patient
could with difficulty bring the gun to his shoulder in the
beginning, entirely relieved in a few days. Diseases of
the spine and painful affections of the head, if unattended
by much fever, are almost invariably assisted by this recre-
ation. Neither need the invalid fear from the exposure,
though violent exertion should be avoided in the com-
mencement, for the excitement of mind keeps up an arti-
ficial warmth within, that seems to neutralize the cold
without, and the muscles soon become so accustomed to
the labour, that they are strengthened, and the nerves im-
mediately invigorated. For dyspeptics, this remedy far
surpasses all the humbugs of quacks, or scientific nonsense
of the " regular bred," as being far more permanently use-
ful, as well as more agreeable in the dose, than bran
bread and black tea, with abundance of apothecary stuff;
or having a loaf of bread made out of your abdomen by
the New York system of kneading.

I would not in the most distant manner insinuate, that a
regular system of medical practice is not eminently useful
in all these diseases at a particular stage, for by thus doing,
my own personal interest might be deeply outraged; but
there is a time in all cases, when the doctor becomes a
nuisance and the apothecary a bore; and if physicians
would but choose to learn the moment when their kind-
nesses really ceased to be required, and show less interest

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

in a continuance of their visits, I believe the siitn of con-
finement to the sick room, as well as the amount of medi-
cal expenditures, would be materially diminished.

So soon as the inflammatory stage has passed by, and
that weak, irritable state of the system which follows
almost every case, comes on, then is the time to forsake
the "charms of medicine" and the luxury of the doctor's
presence, and seek in fresh air and exercise that invigo-
rating principle of health, that would be in the confined
chamber like the mirage of the desert,

" A splendid phantom,
The child of Hope, but leading to despair."

If citizens who are closely confined for most part of the
day, instead of contenting themselves with a quiet ride
on horseback, would "shoulder their gun and march
away" occasionally, even for a few hours, it would pro-
duce a renovation of strength as well as spirits for business,
that would counterbalance, even in its pecuniary results,
for all their abstraction from the cares of life, and the addi-
tion to their stock of health}^, pleasant bodily feelings
would contribute vastly to the aggregate of their earthly
happiness.

Many persons are deteiTed from exposure to the air and
moisture of swamps and marshes, from a fear of fevers. It
has long been known to physicians, that certain causes will
produce disease, when acting on a system enfeebled by
fatigue and abstinence, that would have passed innocuous
under other circumstances; and it is also well ascertained,
that the immediate effect of this debility is in the stomach.
The stomach is also supposed the organ that is operated on
by causes that produce fever, and hence the medical pro-
verb, that the stomach is like a schoolboy, when unem-
ployed it is generally in mischief Here then, is the
great charm, of avoiding disease from exposure, keep the
stomach busy, not by stimuli, for the debility is thus
increased, but hy food slightly stimulating, as gingerbread,
&c. The writer of this article, has had the benefit of
some personal experieace on this subject, as well as exten-
sive observation in others, and he is well assured that few
of the fevers and colds that follow exposure, would occur,
if care was taken to keep this great centre of the system
well occupied.

Persons starting on an expedition for sporting, often
leave home in a hurry, and without laying in a sufficient
stock of provender, and hence, hunt for hours on an
empty stomach. Such persons soon fail in their exertions,
and return home with headach, nausea and exhaustion,
and in many instances with the seeds of maladies that
"ripen unto death."

All the pleasures of this world, may be made with
E

proper precaution, useful to our being, and become by
abuse, curses to our very nature; and in the high and
mighty pleasure now before us, whether in the mild, sub-
dued and feminine search after

" The glis

of the watery world,"

or in the noble and gentlemanly enjoyment of the " detona-
ting sport," the effects are unrivalled in the production of
that happy state of mind and healthy condition of body,
that can alone give melody to life and make us realize in
this world

" All the luxury of a Poet's dream.'

THE CHOICE OF GUNS,

ADAPTED FOR COMMON FIELD AMUSEMENTS.

Observations on the choice of Guns best adapted
for sporting purposes, and remarks relative to their manu-
facture, by an old sportsman, well acquainted with the
amusements of the field, and the work shops of Europe.

On the choice of Guns. — The quality of a Gun depends
on a variety of circumstances, and perfection in all the
parts is seldom to be found, but as the barrels are of the
greatest consequence, we shall treat of them first. The
size of the calibre, and the length must depend on the
game it is chiefly intended for. From two feet six, to two
feet eight inches in length, with a calibre of eleven six-
teenths or three quarters of an inch, is the size best adapted
for grous, pheasants, rabbits, quails, and all such game as
may be conveniently bagged, the weight should be from
seven to eight pounds. If it be heavier it cannot be car-
ried conveniently, nor the sportsman so well prepared for
the contingencies of hunting, and consequently, game
which rises unexpectedly generally escapes before the Gun
can be brought to bear on it, especially in cover, of which
the pheasant and several other species of game instinctively
avail themselves, frequently rising behind a tree or bush
and then fly off in a direct line, and thus elude the keenest
sportsman. The author of this essay had long entertained
the belief, that a Gun of weight and capacity, was the best
calculated to insure a well filled bag, but a few years of
experience convinced him of the error of his opinions.
He made experiments alternately with light and heavy
Guns and compared the amount of game killed with each,
and always found that he was most successful with the
lightest Gun, and accounts for it as follows. The heavy
Gun was carried on his shoulder or in some other resting
position, more than half of the day, not at all convenient

18

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

for a snap'* shot, while the lighter Gun was carried before
him constantly, with his left hand under the barrel, and
his right on the checquer of the stock, so that he was pre-
pared to take advantage of every bird, or other object which
rose unexpectedly before him. The barrels should always
be made of the finest twisted nails, taken from the feet or
old shoes of horses, which are wrought in bars; they are
collected by the apprentice boys of blacksmiths, through-
out England, and carefully treasured up until the Bir-
mingham trader makes his periodical visit, not for the sole
purpose of buying these nails, but for obtaining orders;
and having settled his business with the master, he applies
to the boys, and inquires how many^i'e* they have to dis-
pose of. These pies are bunches of nails enclosed in a
small ring of iron, of about three or four inches in diameter,
and for which the trader generally pays at the rate of from
ten to twelve cents per pound, and is the apprentices per-
quisite. This article, properly prepared, constitutes the
strongest and best material known in the trade for Gun
barrels, excepting the Damascus iron, prepared from old
Damascus sword blades.

The real twisted stub barrels, as they are called, are
generally confined to the London market, and sell very
liigh. Those Guns which find their way into this country,
are only imitations of the London article, but being pre-
pared from well wrought iron, they so closely resemble
the former article, as to defy detection except by the most
skilful connoisseurs; and indeed the imitation has some-
what the advantage in its general appearance, over the real
article, as it respects its beauty, for being welded with thin
alternate bars of very soft iron, the browning acid acts with
greater rapidity and throws out a more distinct figure of
the twist. But in making choice of a Gun, the barrel
should be carefully examined, and if any rotten weldings,
called greys by the workmen, should appear on them, or
in the neighbourhood of the breech, such barrels should be
rejected ; for although they may have withstood the proof
charge, insisted on by an act of parliament, which is truly
severe, they will not long resist the repeated insinuations of
the saltpetre occasioned by numerous discharges, and is
continually acting within the blemish, until sooner or later
it will burst the Gun. These greys exist more or less in
all twisted barrels, but least in the Damascus, on which
account the latter are preferred, by many persons, to
all others. The next in reputation are those which are
termed the wire twist, and are known by their regular and
formal lines, and are said to stand a very high proof
charge. But it is of little importance to the sportsman,
whether the barrels are made of twisted nails, Damascus

* A snap shot is that, when a Gun is brought to bear immediately on the object,
»l the moment it rests against the shoulder, and Bred at the same instant.

blades, or wire, unless indeed they are sound and perfect
of their kind. The next quality requisite in the barrel, is
a smooth cylindrical calibre, free from what is called ring-
bore; and the breech (the patent breech) should be at its
entrance a continuation of the calibre, without a shoulder
or set-off, which is very seldom the case with the factors,
or what is called the export guns. As an article of trade,
the London Guns are too high for the American market,
ranging in price from two hundred, to three hundred and
fifty dollars. Sales of this article are chiefly effected in
England, France, and the East Indies.

The common mode of tapping the barrels to receive the
patent breech, is to cut the thread of the screw at once, in
the best London mode; it is a rule to cut out about one
fourth, or one third of the thickness of the barrels, before
entering the tap, so as to admit the breech being cupped
the full size of the calibre; such Guns shoot much stronger,
and place their shot more regular, whilst those Guns which
are less perfect in this particular, throw their shot in clus-
ters, and in some instances in such masses as to resemble
bullets, which are serious defects, existing more or less in
all Guns in proportion to the shoulder or set-off of the
breech, and may be explained in the following manner:
The first pressure or effect of the powder, is on the centre
of the shot, which is started some distance before it can
act on the whole charge; consequently, the shot on the
sides of the barrels becomes jammed, and from the great
pressure of the centre shot, is united in masses of lead;
and another consequent evil is, that the Gun becomes so
foul, as to endanger the safety of the shooter, and is one of
the principal causes why so many accidents occur, espe-
cially among the French and German Guns of the cheaper
kind, with which the American market is glutted, and
which the wise sportsman will scrupulously avoid. These
remarks, however, are not intended to apply to the French
or German Guns of the better kind, and of which we shall
treat in some future remarks.

In choosing a Gun, attention should be paid to the lock,
the cock of which should rise from its resting place, the
nipple, perfectly free, and rather light, with a regular and
even purchase until it comes to the full bent, or cock; the
sear or dog, telling in the tumbler two sharp and distinct
strokes, clear and with a sort of ringing sound, which is
the best criterion for persons not skilled in mechanics,
although these qualities are sometimes found in very bad
and unsafe locks. When the cock is drawn back to its
greatest extent, the main spring should be perfectly
straight, and when let down again, possessing a gentle
curve; the spring should not be too strong, but very lively,
and free from friction. The other materials should be
made of steel, in place of case hardened iron, and consider-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

My freed, the back action is considered preferable, in con-
sequence of its remaining clean considerably longer than
any other kind.

The stock should be sound and free from shakes or
cracks, and the grain of the wood should run exactly with
the bend at the breech, and the next important consideration,
and on which the sportsman's chance of success greatly
depends, is the length from the trigger to the heel-plate.
This should be proportioned to the person and to the
length of his arms; should his neck be long, the stock will
require to be more crooked than for a shorter person —
much depends on this for quick shooting. The manner
tlie autlior adopted to prove these requisites, was to fix the
eyes on any given object, then shutting them, bring up the
Gun to the shoulder, and point it direct at the object to the
best of his judgment; then opening his eyes, examine how
far the muzzle of the piece is above or below the object; if
above it, the stock may be considered too straight, or if
below it, too crooked: in this way the hand generally
coincides with the judgment, and when a Gun is found
answering to both, it will be all important, particularly in
snap-shooting, where the Gun is required to be raised and
fired insfanter; in which case, success depends entirely on
the co-operation of a quick hand, and a corresponding
judgment; and to answer this purpose, no Gun is so well
adapted as that on the percussion principle.

The best shots seldom look along the barrels, but depend
entirely on the obedience of the hand to the will. It is so
with all who shoot well in cover, because they see no trees,
or if they see them, such shots are not baffled by inter-
vening objects, and many a bird is doomed to fall that
would assuredly escape, where sight alone is depended on.

Some persons try new Guns by firing them against a
target, or fence, and commonly by the road side, to the
great annoyance of those who happen to pass, at the time.
This may be a popular mode, but it is certainly a very
indifferent and reprehensible one. The principal object of
trying a Gun in this way (as far as the author's observations
have gone) is, to ascertain if the Gun will shoot close, and
is condemned or approved, according to the number of
shot placed in a given surface. But this is fallacious ;
sometimes indeed the shot are examined with reference to
their penetrating the wood, but the nature and condition of
the wood is seldom taken into account, or the uniform
manner in which the shot are planted.

It is not generally known or believed, that a Gun may
shoot too close, even for an expert shot. When used for
birds on the wing there should be a certain medium, and
to obtain this medium is the great desideratum.

At a distance of from twenty to thirty-five yards most
game is killed, and may be considered point blank for

small or medium size shot, and an ounce, or one and a
quarter ounces of shot at thirty yards, will cover regularly
a disk twenty-four inches in diameter, so as to secure
within that range such game as pheasant, grous, partridge,
rabbit, snipe, &c. In Europe, thirty-five yards is the set-
tled distance for trial, as game is larger than in America.
Three-fourths of the game in the United States is killed
within the distance of twenty-five yards, excepting deer,
wild turkeys, and water-fowl, and which require a different
class of Gun from that which we are now treating of. The
author does not mean, that a gun should not be tried, on
making a purchase, but he only objects to that practice as a
standard or criterion, solely by which it is or ought to be
judged; his own experience has taught him the following
manner: Having satisfied himself of the requisites already
pointed out, he charges with an ounce to an ounce a half of
shot, according to the weight of the Gun, and size of the
calibre, with as much fine quality powder as would occupy
two-thirds of the cubic bulk of the shot, and then placing
himself as near as safety will permit, to some object aimed
at, procures another person to fire the gun: his motive in
this, is to ascertain the manner in which the shot strikes
the board or target, for, according to the rattling or chatter-
ing of the shot against this object, so is the Gun condemned
or approved. If the shot comes up all at once, with a sharp
stroke resembling the single blow of a hammer, he is con-
fident all is right on that point, and only approaches the
target to see how the shot is planted, and if satisfied with
this, he seeks no other mode of trial, but proceeds in search
of game, and has never been disappointed in a single in-
stance, during a practice of thirty years in the field, in
which period he has been the proprietor and vender of
some hundreds of Guns.
October 19, 1830.

HUNTING RECOLLECTIONS.

About twelve miles above Bangor, in Maine, is a
small island, inhabited by the Penobscot tribe of Indians;
they reside in a village called Oldtown, so termed from a
tradition among them, that their forefathers dwelt in the
same spot, long before the appearance of the first whites in
the country. In the burying ground is a large, moss grown
cross, which bears a date of the beginning of the last cen-
tury. These Indians are Catholics, and are peaceable,
though dirty and lazy. At this place, in 18 — , I applied
for a guide, in a projected hunting-expedition in the unset-
tled part of the country to the N. W. of their village, and
it was not without difficulty that two young men could be
induced to venture with a white stranger, and they would

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

not have consented, except by a special recommendation

from their pastor, Mr. B , to whom I had taken letters.

This reluctance arose from the unprincipled conduct of
most of the whites towards them.

At last, however, Mitchell, Louis, and Joe Soccous,
agreed to accompany me to a part of the country in which
I could kill Moose and Carabou, provided I understood
hunting, as on this point, they appeared to place but little
faith, as I had come from a distant and thickly settled
country as well as from a great city; but above all, I car-
ried a double barrelled percussion rifle with a hair trigger,
&c. a weapon they had never seen.

Friday, October 9, 18 — . Joined my two guides on
the banks of the river; they had provided themselves with
two birch bark canoes. I had a white companion, Mr.
H. who was placed in the bow of one, and I in that of the
other, the provisions and baggage occupying the centre of
each. As the Indians had to dance with their friends
nearly all night, and hear mass before parting with them
this morning, it was eleven o'clock before we set out up
the river. It was the first time I ever was in a birch bark
canoe, and to a novice a " birch" is certainly a ticklish
article; I was obliged to sit down on the bottom and hold
myself as steady as possible, or tlie least motion to one side
heeled the frail vessel, and it being a natural effort to
throw oneself in the opposite direction, the evil was always
increased rather than remedied; while Joe who paddled
the boat, sat as firm and unconcerned as if he had neither
jacket or powder to get wet, and was himself the passenger:
sometimes, however, he exclaimed " 'spose um no still,
him no paddle um canoe;" but in a few hours I ceased to
give further trouble, and not only could balance myself,
but began to paddle. Our canoes were about twelve feet
long, and three wide at midships, and will carry but two

take care of the camp, and enjoy a solitary pipe, whilst
listening to the owls and journalizing. The scenery during
the day was romantic, the timber consisting of oak, pop-
lar, birch, and a very few pines; at one time we had a
distant view of mount Kitahden, it was covered with snow
and appeared about 60 miles distant.

Our first night proved rainy, and as few people are fond
of lying under wet bed clothes, we were off bright and
early, passed some rapids which were very bad at this low
stage of the water; in one or two places, the fall was full a
foot perpendicular, and yet the Indians poled up them with
a facility truly astonishing, as these small birch canoes are
so light and appear so frail, that no one who had not seen
them managed by an Indian would ever suppose that they
could be conveyed over whirling rapids, with the safety of
a common boat in smooth water.

The river widened, and in many places was almost like
a lake filled with islands of a fine rich soil, settled by
Indians. We also passed some good farms on the main
land, belonging to white people; but in general, the Indian
farms were quite as comfortable in appearance as the
whites. At noon, left the main river, and entered the
Passedunky, through a narrow channel, with scarcely
room for a canoe to pass amid a chaos of rocks: it soon,
however, began to widen to more than one hundred yards,
deep, and still, banks low, rich and matted, with a variety
of timber and underwood, but heavy hemlocks stamped
the prominent character of the scene. Through this still,
deep water, we paddled about five miles; then through
rapids and rocks a few miles further, to such another place
where we landed to cook our dinner and mend one of the
canoes, which had been damaged among the rocks.

While these operations were performing by the Indians,
H. and myself hunted for our supper, though our game

persons and baggage, or six or eight hundred weight, and turned out rather scanty, as we
weigh about 60 pounds.

Ascended several rapids, by means of setting poles, the
Indians standing up in the stern: at noon we landed to
dine, but as we did not wish to lose time in cooking, made
our dinners on raw pork and biscuit, our drink being sugar
and water ; performed the necessary operation with an
Indian of smoking our pipes, and continued our journey
until night, when we encamped on a woody island. We
had no tents, and as there was every appearance of rain
before morning, Joe stretched his blanket on two poles,
as a substitute. A mallard, some partridges (Pheasants,
Tetrao umbellus) which I shot during the day, supplied
us with an excellent supper, and made amends for our sorry
dinner. Some squaws paid us a visit in our camp, with a
present of choke berries in a neat little birch basket; my
comrades returned the visit in the evening, leaving me to

made but indifferent work
among the pheasants, and were obliged to fill the deficiency
with a bittern, which subsequently was displaced from that
honor by better game.

As evening approached, the Indians were just begging
that I would halt the next day, as it was Sunday, and my
New England friend saying that he was " conscientiously
scrupulous" about travelling on the Sabbath, when a fine
buck espyed us coming up the stream, but mistook us for
other deer, as we all laid flat in the bottom of our canoes;
nothing could be seen but the muzzle of my rifle, my eyes
and the Indian's paddles; so completely was the poor
animal deceived, that he swam within gun-shot before he
discovered his mistake; we let him rise the bank out of
the water as he made for the thicket, before I sent him a
leaden messenger; one of the Indians and he entered the
thicket together, and nothing was heard for some moments

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

21

but the cracking of brush, and heavy jumps, until the yell
of Mitchell Louis proclaimed victory. On coming up, we
found he had seized the dying animal, and had received
some tolerably severe wounds in the scuflBe, before he could
use his knife. It turned out one of the largest bucks ever
killed in this part of the country, and withal, exceedingly
fat. We estimated his weight at near three hundred
pounds, and as we were now overstocked with provision,
the Indians availing themselves of my intention to remain
encamped on Sunday, asked leave to travel all night to
take the meat to their friends, on the river below, promis-
ing to be back on Sunday night, which, of course, was
granted, and they started, leaving us one of the canoes.

H. and myself were now left many miles from any
human being, surrounded by a gloomy hemlock swamp.
He began collecting fuel and building a camp, while I
played the part of cook. A plentiful supper, a social pipe
oi esquepomgole,'* and a quantity of hemlock branches for
a bed, closed the proceedings of the day.

But Sunday did not end so comfortal)ly ; we were visited
in the morning by six canoe loads of Indians, they had
been up the river hunting, but were not very successful:
with them they had the skins of sable and moose ; of the
latter they had killed four, but how, was to me a mystery;
as their guns were among the worst I had ever seen. On
asking them what was the greatest distance at which they
could kill a moose, they pointed to a spot about thirty yards
distant. On receiving a present from us of fresh venison,
pork, and biscuit, they departed. After which we were
visited by two white trappers, in a " birch;" they were in
search principally of musquash (Muskrat, Fiber zibethi-
cus.) In the afternoon it began to rain, with a strong
S. E. wind; fixed our tent in the best manner we could;
the deficiency of a tent was again supplied by a blanket
spread on two poles, and as we did not expect it to keep us
dry, we were not disappointed, though it saved us in a
great measure; our baggage and provisions were stowed
under the canoe, turned bottom up, among the bushes.

October 12th. Our Indian friends returned about dark,
having travelled all last night and to day, with the excep-
tion of about two hours, spent at breakfast with their wives
and sisters. I took a short ramble in the woods back of us,
in the afternoon, through the intervals of rain, but could
not penetrate far, for mats of dead and falling timber cover-
ed with moss, in such a manner, that it was like groping
among huge masses of sponge, with a very uncertain foun-
dation. Red squirrels {Sciurus Hudsonius) were the

* Esquepomgole is the Penobscot and Passamaquoddy name for the mixture
of tobacco and inner bark of red willow, (Comiis alba,) it is smoked by almost
all the diflerent bands of North American Indians, but, of course, in different
languages, is known under other names.

F

only living creatures to be seen; they were numerous, and
form the principle food of the sable, which abound on the
higher grounds; they pursue the squirrel from tree to tree,
with as much activity as Mr. Audibon describes the rattle-
snakes; (which, by the bye, is about as great a humbug as
ever John Bull was gulled with. )

Heavy rain all night, but having brought with me an oil
cloth coverlid, six feet square, we were kept tolerably
dry under it, the only inconvenience was, that we had col-
lected scarcely hemlock branches sufficient to keep us out
of the puddles beneath; and as it was impossible to keep
our fire, or to light it in the morning, we laid in bed until
ten o'clock, when the rain ceasing, we cooked our break-
fasts, loaded the canoes, and took leave of the great buck
camp; poled up some very difficult rapids, where the fall
was more than five feet in twenty yards.

We went eight miles, and about three o'clock arrived at
a saw mill and settlement of whites; had our dinners
cooked at one of the houses, whilst the Indians mended
the canoes, which had received some damage; an operation
that is performed by covering the cracks with a composi-
tion of resin and tallow, while a coal held over and blown
melts it, at the particular places required.

The old lady who cooked our dinners, had several fine
daughters, who said they were all heartily sick of the
woods, having resided here five years without any chances
for husbands, which may fairly be considered a hard case.
Made a portage across the mill dam, and left the last set-
tlement on the Passedunky, where we left all our superfluous
baggage. After proceeding some distance, came to an
Indian camp of three fires (at each a family); as it was near
evening, and they being relatives of our guides, we con-
cluded to stop for the night; the camp was on a low flat
point, covered with huge hemlocks, the dark shade of
which heightened the romantic effect of a beautiful moon-
light night, whilst the fires and dark moving figures
enlivened the whole. One of the men was quite commu-
nicative, and they dubbed him lawyer; he was very-
anxious to hear all the news from me — said he had heard
of an account in one of the Canada papers, of an adjust-
ment of the boundary line of Maine, and wanted to know
if we had heard of it, observing that all boundaries were
bad that did not follow the courses of the streams: the
three men are Passamaquoddys, and are married to Penob-
scot squaws, who are now on their way to see their rela-
tives at Old Town.

Tuesday, I3th. Passed several rapids, rips, and shoots,
schutes as they are called by the whites. Hills rise here
directly from the river, leaving no bottoms, but are of
slight elevation, and covered with heavy timber; larch,
hemlock, &c. predominating. Proceeding a few miles

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

further, wc opened suddenlj' on Lake Paoonook, and one
of the most magnificent scenes I ever beheld burst upon us:
the weather had cleared up bright and calm, the lake's
surface was like a mirror, surrounded with mountains; a
few clouds were skimming past, but leaving their summits
clear above, the shore was lined with huge rocks of all
shapes, and heavy timber, having all the varied hues of
autumn, and beautifully contrasted, intermixed with the dif-
ferent kinds of evergreens peculiar to northern regions.
Not a sound was heard, except the cackling of log cock
or pileated woodpeckers, and now and then the scream of
a loon. Indians and all ceased paddling to enjoy and
admire.

Crossed the lake in nearly a north east direction; it is
about nine miles in circumference, and very deep, abound-
ing with fine fish, particularly Pickerel, some of which we
tried to catch, but were unsuccessful. Entered the mouth
of a small stream with low bushy banks, where we were
led to believe we should see Moose and Carabou: H. and
myself sat with our guns cocked for fear of making the
least noise, whilst Mitchell and Joe, with the stillness of
death, paddled up the serpentine course of the stream for
several miles, until we came to the mouth of another
stream, which we were told was to be the scene of our
nightly hunts for moose; accordingly we retraced our way
for some distance, so as not to alarm the game with our
axes. Encamping about noon, we set all our musquash
traps, and slept the remainder of the day. A partridge
[Pheasant) came within six feet of our fire, and seemed
quite uncertain whether we were friends or enemies, but
as all our venison was gone, I felt sorry to prove myself
amongst the latter; but so it was, and the poor bird formed
part of a fricassee with musquash. Several moose birds
(Corviis canadensis of Wilson) then appeared; they
would sit on my coat as it hung on a bush, peck at the par-
tridge which was already picked and hanging up, and eat
fat pork off the kettle, which was placed a short distance
from the fire; a few sleepless moments were emploved in
the amusement of trying to catch them with fishing lines,
but they were too cunning to swallow the bait without first
picking it from the hook. At sundown, made our pre-
parations and started to hunt moose by star light. H. and
Mitchell Louis went in one direction towards lake Paoo-
nook, whilst Joe and myself went up stream from the lake:
had to make one or two portages over rocky rapids in deep
hemlock shade, which deprived us of the little light we
had received from the stars. Where the stream was wider,
and more open on getting again into smooth water, Joe
gave me my directions, as it was my first essay in this
kind of hunting, and required me to be as silent as possi-
ble while he sent the canoe over the dead water, like the

silent flight of an owl in search of its prey. The moose
repair at night along the banks of the stream, to feed on
the small branches of ash, maple, and red willow, and con-
stantly cross from one bank to the other, so that they are
as frequently found in the water as along the shores; the
Indians told me to watch sharply for their dark forms in
the bushes, as well as in the water, as their dark colour is
particularly adapted to conceal them in the night; we
were frequently startled by the repeated splashes of
musquash and aquatic birds. Joe often imitated the long
braying call of the female, as it is now rutting season, but
without success, for we hunted until midnight without
seeing or hearing a single moose. When we returned,
found the other canoe back before us with no better suc-
cess. Took the canoes on shore, turned them bottom
upwards, and with our heads beneath them by way of
tents, we spent the rest of a clear frosty night.

Next day set some sable traps, which are dead falls
made with small logs, and then moved our quarters a mile
or two up the western branch; we undertook to hunt on
the hills, and I soon discovered the reason why all the
hunting is done by the Indians in canoes, for the whites
never hunt except in snow shoes; it is this, the country is
crossed in every direction by lakes and streams, so that
fires cannot spread here as they do in almost every other
part of our country, and consequently the dead timber
remains to rot, and is further protected from fire by vast
beds of moss; therefore, the woods are full of dead and
rotten timber, lying in confused masses among the rocks,
all of which being covered with moss, a traveller in such
places can never tell whether he is on terra firma, or
mounted a considerable distance above it, on a net work of
rotten logs, which every now and then let him down some
fifteen or twent}' feet, without his being able to tell what
kind of wild beast may occupy the den beneath him.
Added to these difficulties, in other places the heavy snows
in winter bend the long slender evergreens in the form
of bows, in which position they remain with their tops
near the ground; and as tliis goes on successively each
winter, the evil is increased, until a hunter must be as
agile as a sable or panther, to get through such spots; in
fact, deer and the larger game, except bear, are not found
in such places.

At noon, Joe and myself again started in one of the
canoes, up the stream until dark, to hunt moose on our way
back in the night, whilst H. and ISIitchell Louis remained
to set musquash traps, and prepare the camp against our
return, which was about ten o'clock; saw plenty of moose
and carabou signs going up, but none appeared fresh; some
of the moose tracks were quite as large as those of oxen.
We landed on an extensive cranberry bed, and in a short

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

25

time collected as many berries as we could eat, and enough
for our companions in camp. Bear signs were plent_y, but
we would not lose time in hunting them.

Soon after dark, came upon two deer which were in
such thick bushes that we found it difficult, owing to the
darkness, to make out their position, and did not fire for
fear of alarming our larger game : this precaution was,
however, unnecessary, as in a few minutes we heard the
heavy reports of two muskets, which we then supposed
were those of our companions, but on our return, to our
disappointment found they had not seen any thing, nor
discharged their guns, which threw the Indians into great
perplexity to imagine who could be hunting in this part of
the country, beside ourselves. After much consultation,
they concluded they were Mohawks, as none of the Penob-
scots or Passamaquoddj-s had left their town since the
middle of summer; in addition to the guns we heard, there
were frequent indications of traps having been set for mus-
quash, and the places marked with slips of birch bark, in
a particularly neat manner, foreign to the Indians of
Maine, and as the Mohawks and Penobscots are not on
very friendh^ terms, my friends became quite uneasy.

The next morning it was clear, frosty, and colder
than the preceding, enough so, to form ice in the little
puddles as thick as a quarter of a dollar. Three mus-

quash in the traps, which came just in time for breakfast;
and as they are one of the greatest luxuries of the Penob-
scots, I was pleased to find that my companions thought
they were living in clover. The unlucky circumstance of
another party having preceded us on tlie west branch, was
a death blow to my little expedition. Since a suspicion has
arisen of their being Mohawks, my guides began to waver,
and acknowledge they do not know any thing about the
country up this stream; and on the east branch, they say
I have no chance of success in hunting moose and carabou,
or in fact any game, as their tribe has been hunting
there most of the summer. To all my inquiries about our
course and game, Mitchell Louis, who seems to be the
leader of the two, always replied, "dont know bejockly,
may be we see um, may be he all gone, we go where you
want um go, spose so," from all of which I drew the
inference, that it was spending my time and money to
little purpose to keep on with my present guides, unless
we could ascend the west branch; but this, both Indians
opposed by saying, the " Mohawks berry bad men, we
not want to see um, may be kill um all the game too, den
dat not good spose for you;" so that I was obliged,
though reluctantly, to give the order "right about," and
our canoes once more headed towards lake Paoonook.

ARCHERY. being esteemed an eligible and useful amusement ; and if
it can also be shown to possess some valuable qualifications
The value of agreeable amusements has been acknow- which are not to be found in other diversions, the benefits
ledged in every age, as the most important advantages to to be derived from its practice will be still more con-
health and happiness are in a gi-eat measure subject to their spicuous.

influence. If we find that both are interested and im- Archer}-, in fact, possesses many excellencies as an exer-

proved by archery, it must prove a sufficient reason for its cise, which renders it one of the most useful of the gym-

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY.

nastic sports. It is adapted for every age and every de-
gree of strength; and the degree of exertion can always be
proportioned, by increasing or diminishing the power of
the bow employed. It is not necessarily laborious, as it
may be relinquished as soon as it becomes irksome or
fatiguing.

It is recorded, that a king of Persia offered a reward to
whoever could invent a new pleasure. Had such an induce-
ment been held forth by the ladies of the present day, he who
introduced Archery as a female amusement, might deserved-
ly have claimed the prize. It is unfortunate that there are few
diversions in the open air, in which women can join with
satisfaction, or without overstepping those bounds which
custom and innate delicacy have prescribed to the sex; and
as their sedentary life renders exercise necessary to health,
it is to be lamented that suitable amusements have been
wanting, to invite them into the open air. Archery, how-
ever, is admirably calculated to supply this deficiency, and
in a manner the most desirable that could be wished.

The bow is the most ancient and universal of all wea-
pons, and has been found in use amongst the most barbar-
ous and remote nations. In the days of David, the practice
of this instrument of warfare appears to have been so gene-
ral, that it is constantly made use of in the Bible as a figure
of speech. Its earliest application, however, was for the
purpose of procuring food ; and, notwithstanding the cele-
brity of the English archers, it is a question among anti-
quaries whether it was ever used by the Anglo-Saxons and
Danes except for the chase, or as an amusement. All au-
thorities agree, that it never was considered as a formidable
weapon of offence in that country until after the Norman
conquest, who introduced the general use of it and the cross-
bow among their military retainers and serfs ; the differ-
ence in the use of which is well exemplified in a simile
made by the celebrated Bayle : "Testimony," says he,
"is like the shot of a long bow, wliich owes its efficacy to
the force of the shooter, whereas argument is like that of
the cross-bow, equally forcible, whether discharged by a
dwarf or a giant." It is now wholly relinquished among
civilised nations as a hostile weapon, but still retains a pro-
minent rank as affording a healthy and rational amusement.
This exercise, which is exceedingly common in Europe,
and more particularly in Great Britain, is scarcely known
in this country; the only association of Bowmen in the
United States, as far as we can learn, being in this city.
We trust, however, that this fashion may be universally
cultivated and approved, and that we may see the time
when, with Statius, it will be said

'• Pudor esl nescire sagiltas."

Every information respecting the use of the Bow, can be

readily obtained from the "Archer's Manual," a little
work published by Mr. Hobson, of Philadelphia, under
the superintendence of the "United Bowmen." Shooting
apparatus can likewise be obtained without much difficulty,
either in this city, or may be imported from Europe.

We have been led into these remarks, from a wish to
see this useful and agi-eeable amusement become general in
our country, where there is such a dearth of invigorating
exercises, with the exception of those of the chase. The
association to which we have alluded, held their third
annual prize meeting on the twenty-second of October,
when the first prize, a silver bugle, was awarded to Mr. X.
for the greatest value of hits, and the second, a silver
grease box, for the hit nearest the centre of the target, to
Mr. C. From the unfavourable state of the weather, the
shooting was far from being equal to that on many of the
ordinary practice meetings of the association.

MISCEL,L.A]N Y.

A PHEASANT was chased by a hawk, a few days
since, from a swamp, and took refuge in the chimney of
the dwelling house, on the farm of Mr. E. Seeley, in
Cumberland county, N. J. and descended into the parlour,
whence it was taken, and kept alive for several days.

The same gentleman has a domestic fowl, which pro-
duces regularly, eggs with double yolks, and about the'
size of those of a turkey.

In the following anecdote, Hogg tells a monstrous
storjr, with an honest simplicity, that makes one laugh: —
It's a good sign of a dog when his face grows like his
master's. It's a proof he's aye glowerin' up in his mas-
ter's een, to discover what he's thinking on; and then,
without the word or wave o' command, to be aff to execute
the widl o' his silent thocht, whether it be to wear sheep
or run doon deer. Hector got sae 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 ance asked
me, next day, what I thocht o' 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 wud hae observed it; but he was a sim-
ple, primitive, unsuspectin' auld man — a very Nathaniel
without guile, and he jealoused naething; tho' both Hector
and me was like to split; and the dog after laughing in his
sleeve, for mair than a hundred yards, could stand't nae
longer, but was obliged to loup awa owre a hedge into a
potato field, pretending to have scented partridges.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

25

RED FOX.

CANIS (VULPES) FULVUS.

Renard de l'l}-gi?iie. Palisot de Beauvois. JBuL soc.
Phil. — Large Red Fox of the Plains. Lewis &
Clark. — Red Fox. Sabine. App. to Franklin's Joiir-
. ney, 656. Godman, vol. i. 276. — American Fox.
Richardson, Faun. am. bor. 91. — Canis fulviis,
Desm. Mamm. 203. Icon F. Cuv. Mam. Lit hog. —
J. Doughty's Collection.

The various species of the Fox have been classed by
most natLiralists in the genus Canis Lin. together with the
wolf and jackal. From these animals, however, they differ
in man}' important particulars. In the dogs, the pupil of the
eye is circular and diurnal; whilst in the Fox, it is linear
and nocturnal. The tail is also more bushy, the nose more
pointed, and the scent stronger than in the former. There
is likewise a very marked dissimilarity in many of their
habits and manners; thus the Fox burrows, which the dog
does not, the voice of the former is rather a yelp than a
bark, &c. From these considerations, some naturalists
have wholly separated them from Canis under the title of
Vulpes, and others, though retaining them in that genus,
make them a subdivision or subgenus.

The Fox belongs to the Digitigrada, or second tribe of
the Carnivora, including such animals as support them-
selves in walking, on the extremities of the toes. The
digitigrade animals are subdivided, 1st. into such as have
one tubercular or bruising grinder in the upper jaw; are
destitute of a coecum, and whose body is very little larger
than their head. This subdivision includes the genus
Mustela of Linne, which has been split into several well
marked genera; by more modern naturalists, as Mustela, L.
Putorius, Cuv. Mephitis, Cuv. Lutra, Storr. 2d. Such
as have two flat tubercular teeth in the upper jaw, and are
furnished with a small coecum; these are, Canis, Lin.
Vulpes, Gesner. Viverra, Cuv. Genetta, Cuv. Paradox-
urus, Cuv. Herpestes, Illig. Suricata, Desm. Crossar-
chiis, F. Cuv. 3d. Those which have no tubercular tooth in
the lower jaw, which includes Felis, Lin. Hywna, Storr.

Most of the species of the Fox have the same cunning and
sagacity, the same eagerness after prey, and commit the
same ravages among game, birds, poultry, and the lesser
quadrupeds. They are exceedingly fond of honey, and
will attack hives and the nests of the wild bee, for the
sake of the spoil; in these exploits they frequently meet
with so rough a reception, as to force them to retire, that
they may roll on the ground and thus crush their nume-
rous and vindictive assailants; but the moment they have
effected this, they return to tlie charge and are generally

successful. Foxes will also eat any sort of insect, fruit,
&c. and are very destructive in vineyards. This latter
propensity was observed at a very early period. " Take
us the Foxes, the little Foxes that spoil the vines, for our
vines have tender grapes."*

But they do not limit themselves to the quantity of food
necessary to appease the cravings of their appetite at the
moment. Instinct appears to warn them, that although
they may then be revelling in plenty, that future wants
must also be provided against. Hence, when they invade
a poultry yard, they kill all they can, and successively
carry off every piece, concealing them in the neighbour-
hood for a supply in time of need. Captain Lyon, in
speaking of this trait of character in the arctic Fox, ob-
serves, "Their first impulse on receiving food, is to hide
it as soon as possible, even though suffering from hunger,
and having no companion of whose honesty they are doubt-
ful. In this case snow is of great assistance, as being
easily piled over their stores, and then forcibly pressed
down by the nose. I frequently observed my dog-fox,
when no snow was attainable, gather his chain into his
mouth, and in that manner carefully coil it so as to hide
the meat. On moving away, satisfied with his operations,
he of course, had drawn it after him again, and sometimes
with great patience repeated his labors four or five times,
until in a passion, he has been constrained to eat his food,
without its having been rendered luscious by previous con-
cealment, "t

Foxes are very fond of basking in the sun; in fact their
general time of rest is in the day time, during which pe-
riod they appear listless and inactive, without they are
excited by fear or some other stimulus. They sleep in a
round form like the dog, and also resemble that animal in
the ease with which they are awakened, it being almost
impossible to come on them unawares, for even when they
are in an apparently sound sleep, the slightest noise, made
near them, will arouse them. The moment night sets in,
all their faculties are awakened; they then begin their
gambols and depredations, continuing in rapid and almost
unceasing motion till day break. ]\Iost, if not all, the spe-
cies live in burrows; these are generally composed of
several chambers, and are provided with more than one
entrance, by which they may make their escape in cases of
extremity. One of the great characteristics of the Fox, is
their extreme prudence and almost matchless cunning,
which are exemplified not only in their stratagems to ob-
tain prey, but also in their numerous wiles in order to
avoid their pursuers. Dr. Richardson states, that- the
arctic Fox appears to have the power of decoying other

» Solomon's Song, ii. 15. t Lyon's Private Journal.

26

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

animals within his reach, by imitating their voices: this is
confirmed by Captain Lyon, who states, "that while tent-
ing, we observed a Fox prowling on a hill side, and heard
him for several hours afterwards in different places, imi-
tating the cry of a brent goose." Crantz, in his History of
Greenland, informs us, that this species also exert an extra-
ordinary degree of cunning in their mode of obtaining fish.
They go into the water, and make a splash with their feet
in order to excite their curiosity, and when they come up,
seize them. The mode in which some species entrap
water fowl is also extremely ingenious. They advance a
little way into the water and afterwards retire, playing a
thousand antic tricks on the banks. The fowl approach,
and when they come near, the animal ceases, that he may
not alarm them, moving only his tail about, and that very
gently, till the birds approach so near that he is enabled to
seize one or more.* But these are trifling displays of in-
genuity in comparison to some which are related of these
animals. Thus, Pliny says, that such is the sagacity of
Foxes that they will not venture on any piece of ice until
they have ascertained its thickness and strength, by apply-
ing their ear to it. A late traveller in Norway, we believe
Capell Brooke, states that the Foxes of the North Cape
take sea fowl by letting one of their companions over the
edge of a cliff by his tail, and where this does not enable
them to reach their prey, that a line is formed of no incon-
siderable length, by seizing each other's tails in their
mouths. That credulous author, Pontoppidan, also informs
us, " that a certain person was surprised on seeing a Fox
near a fisherman's house, laying a parcel of fishes' heads in
a row; he waited the event, the Fox hid himself behind
them, and made a booty of the first crow that came for a
bit of them."

This character of cunning and extreme prudence in the
Fox, renders him extremely difficult to be destroyed, or
taken. As soon as he has acquired a little experience, he
is not to be deceived by the snares laid for him, and the
moment he recognizes them, nothing can induce him to
approach them, even when suffering the severest pangs of
hunger. The scent which the Fox leaves behind him
being exceeding strong, he appears sensible of that cir-
cumstance, and uses every artifice to bewilder his pursuers
and throw them out of their track. He generally takes
advantage of the wind, and often crosses rivers, swims
down small streams or runs along the top of a wall, in
order to interrupt the continuity of the scent, and puzzle
the dogs. This timid and prudential character, however,
completely disappears in the female when she has young
ones to nurse and defend. Maternal instinct, which is

forcibly felt by all species of animals, and effaces for a
time their natural propensities, is peculiarly striking in the
Fox. There is no sentiment so universal in its nature and
so wholly disinterested as this; none in which personal
danger is so completely unheeded and disregarded. A
mother never hesitates an instant in facing the most appal-
ling danger, or enduring the utmost privations, risking
every thing, even life itself, for the preservation of her
infant offspring. She that at other times was timid and
gentle, now becomes bold, fierce, and resolute; unshaken
by all that is trying, undeterred by all that is menacing.
Thus the female Fox watches with unceasing care over her
young, assiduously providing for all their wants, and ex-
hibiting a fearlessness wholly different from her usual dis-
position. Goldsmith relates a remarkable instance of this
parental affection, which he says occurred near Chelmsford,
in England. " A she Fox that had, as it would seem, but
one cub, was unkennelled by a gentleman's hounds and
hotly pursued. The poor animal, braving every danger,
rather than leave her cub to be worried by the dogs, took
it up in her mouth and ran with it in this way for some
miles. At last, taking her way through a farmer's yard,
she was assaulted by a mastiff, and at length obliged to drop
her cub."

The Fox goes with young about three months, and the
litter is composed of from three to eight. The cubs, like
puppies, are covered with hair, and are born blind. They
remain in the burrow about three or four months, and soon
after abandon their parents; at two years of age their
growth is completed.

As the vicinity of the Fox is productive of mischief and
destruction, and as its cunning and sagacity augment its
resources against danger, its chase has always afforded a
subject of amusement and occupation. Many crowned
heads have been passionately devoted to this sport Among
others, Louis XIII. of France, gave it the preference over
all others, and brought to perfection the employment of
the hound, instead of the terrier, which had heretofore been
constantly used for this purpose. This invigorating and
healthful exercise is pursued with great ardour in some
parts of our country, particularly in the southern States.
From Custis's Recollections of Washington, it appears that
previous to 1787, he was a keen Fox hunter: this bold and
animating sport being well suited to his temperament, and
his fondness for equestrian feats. His habit was to hunt
three times a week; as is well known, Washington was a
skilful and fearless rider, and ridiculed the idea of being
unhorsed, provided the animal kept on his legs, he
always followed the hounds, through all difficulties; was
invariably in at the death, yielding to no man the honor of
the brush.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Besides the chase, various means are resorted to, for the
purpose of destroying these mischievous animals, which,
though sometimes successful, often fail, from their extreme
cunning, which enables them to avoid the best concerted
schemes for their capture. Even when taken in a steel
trap, it is said that they wll sacrifice a limb to escape —

''by the indented steel
With gripe tenacious held, the felon grieves,
And struggles, but in vain, yet oft "lis known,
When ev'ry ain has fail'd, the captive Fox
Has shar'd the wounded joint, and with a limb
Compounded for his life." — Somenilk. Cliase.

The fur is valuable and much sought for, particularly
that of the black or silver Fox, which sells for six times
the price of any other, that is produced in North America.
La Hontan speaks of a black Fox skin as being, in his time,
worth its weight in gold.

The different species of Fox are involved in much con-
fusion. There are few animals of which travellers have
spoken more, and yet there are scarcely any whose history
has been treated of with less precision and method. As
far as our researches have extended, the following appear
to be the well determined species and varieties. As re-
gards tliose of North America, we have followed Dr. Rich-
ardson, who has paid particular attention to them, and
whose acuteness and industry, deserves the thanks of
every naturalist

1. Canis (Vulpes) Vulgaris. Common Fox.

Var. a. V. alopex. Brant Fox.

b. V. crucigera. European cross Fox.

2. V. lagopus. Arctic Fox.

Var. a. V. fuliginosus. Sooty Fox.

3. V. fulvus. Red Fox.

Var. a. V. decussatus. American cross Fox.
b. V. argentatus. Black, or silver Fox.

4. V. Virginianus. Gray Fox.

5. V. cinereo-argentatus. Swift Fox.

6. V. corsac. Corsac Fox.

Var. a. V. Karagan. Desert Fox.

7. V. Niloticus. Egyptian Fox.

There are a variety of other nominal species which we
have omitted, not being able to satisfy ourselves respecting
tliem. It is astonishing how little care is taken by travel-
lers, to ascertain the proper names of the animals they
describe in their journals, even when the means of infor-
mation is within their reach. The history of the various
species of the animal kingdom can only be the result of a
long series of observations, which it is utterly impossible
for a single individual to make. Hence, if travellers
describe the same animal under different names, it loads
science with a host of unnecessary species, and retards in-
stead of advancing the progress of inquiry.

The red Fox is an inhabitant of most parts of our conti-
nent, but appears to occur in the greatest numbers to the
north; they are so abundant in what are termed the fur
countries, that Dr. Richardson says, that about eight thou-
sand are annually imported into England from thence.
They are, however, by far too numerous in the United
States, giving manifest proofs of their presence in their
depredations on the poultry yards.

The general colour of this species in its summer coat, is
" bright ferruginous on the back, head, and sides, less bril-
liant towards the tail; under the chin white; the throat
and neck a dark gray; and this colour is continued along
the first part of the belly in a stripe of less width than on
the breast; the under parts, towards the tail, are very pale
red; the fronts of the fore legs and feet are black, (or dark
brown,) and the fronts of the lower parts of the hind legs
are also black; the tail is very bushy, but less ferruginous
than the body, the hairs mostly terminated with black, and
more so towards the extremity than near the root, giving
the whole a dark appearance; a few of the hairs at the end
are lighter, but it is not tipped with white." — Sabine.
The colour of the tip, however, differs much; in some
specimens, the white being very distinct, whilst in others
this tint is scarcely discernible. This summer coat is long,
fine, and brilliant, as winter approaches it gradually be-
comes longer and denser, even the soles of the feet being
completely covered with fur, which wears off in the sum-
mer, leaving naked callous spots.

It bears a strong resemblance to the common Fox of
Europe, and was considered identical with that species
until De Beauvois pointed out its differences. These, as
stated by Dr. Richardson, are, that the American species
has longer and finer fur, and is more brilliant in its colours.
Its cheeks are rounder, its nose tliicker, shorter, and more
truncated. Its eyes are nearer to each other. Its ears are
shorter, the hair on its legs is longer, and the feet more
covered with fur, its tail is also fuller and finer. The
colour of the breast is more inclined to a gray, and that of
the anterior part of the legs of a darker brown, being
nearly black. Desmarest likewise mentions, that there is a
difference in the form of the skulls of the two species.

As there still exists no slight difference of opinion, as to
whether this animal is a native; many persons considering
that it is merely the European species which has become
naturalized, whilst others appear to think that there are
two distinct varieties, closely resembling each other, the
one native and the other introduced; we will examine the
grounds of the various hypotheses, before entering on a
description of the habits and manners of the subject of our
sketch. In doing this, we have thought it would be satis-
factory to our readers, to cite the various authorities we
have had occasion to consult on each side of the question.

28 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

Pennant* under the head of European Fox, observes, shown to a Mr. Lenarton, an old Jersey man, who pro-
<' It inhabits the northern parts of North America. This nounced it an English Fox. He said the red Fox was
species gradually decreases to the southward in numbers imported into New York from England, by one of the
and size; none are found lower than Pennsylvania. They first English governors, who was said to be a great sports-
are supposed not to have been originally natives of that man, and turned out on Long Island, where they remained
country. The Indians believe they came from the north for many years, but at last made their way on the ice to the
of Europe, in an excessive hard winter, when the sea was main land and spread over the country. The red Fox and
frozen. The truth seems to be, that they were driven in Canada hare are migrating south and west"*
some severe season from the north of their own country. In another letter from a correspondent in the same work
and have continued there ever since. The variety of the writer observes, "with us (Virginia) he is supposed
British Fox with a black tip to the tail, seems unknown in to have been brought from the continent— Germany, I
America." think — and not from the island of Great Britain. I re-
Kalm says, " The red Foxes are very scarce here (New member well, when the first red Fox was seen in my native
York); they are entirely the same with the European part of Virginia (in Goochland, on James' River,) and the
sort. Mr. Bartram and several others assured me, that, sensation it created among sportsmen. This was about
according to the unanimous testimony of the Indians, this fifteen years ago."t

kind of Fox never was seen in the country before the Eu- Both the above writers also state, that the gray Fox ( V.

ropeans settled in it. But of the manner of their coming Virginianus) disappears on the appearance of the red.

over, I have two accounts. Mr. Bartram, and several This, however, is not the case, as in many parts they are

other people, were told by the Indians, that these Foxes equally numerous.

came into America soon after the arrival of the Europeans, Such, as far as we have been able to investigate, are the

after an extraordinary cold winter, when all the sea to the proofs, that the red Fox is identical with the common Fox

northward was frozen. But Mr. Evans and some others, of Europe, being in fact descended from it. On the other

assured me that the following account was still known by hand many writers, as F. Cuvier, Desmarest, and Harlan,

the people. A gentleman in New England, who had admit and describe the red Fox as a distinct species, but at

much inclination for hunting, brought over a great number the same time state that the European Fox is also an inhabi-

of Foxes from Europe, and let them loose in his terri- tant of North America. Dr. Richardson says, the latter

tories, that he might be able to indulge his passion for is probably a native of New Caledonia, and further ob-

hunting. This, it is said, happened at the very beginning serves, " Several of the voyagers who have visited the At-

of New England's being peopled with European inhabi- lantic coast of North America, mention two kinds of red

tants. These Foxes were believed to have so multiplied. Fox skins in possession of the natives; the one having a

that all the red Foxes in the country were their off- fine, long, silvery fur, of a reddish yellow colour, (C.

spring, "t It is due to Kalm to state, that he considers fulvus?) the other of a smaller size, having shorter and

neither of these accounts as satisfactory. Custis states, coarser fur and less lively tints of colour (C. vulpes?) I

<' The Foxes hunted fifty years ago were gray Foxes, with think it very probable that an investigation into the charac-

one exception, this was a famous black Fox;" and in a ters of the American Foxes, will show that the reddish

note says, "The red Fox is supposed to have been im- Fox of the Atlantic States is a variety of the C cinereus,

ported from England to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, (Q. does Dr. Richardson mean the gray Fox by the C.

by a Mr. Smith, and to have emigrated across the ice to cinereus?) which has been mistaken for the European

Virginia, in the hard winter of 1779-80, when the Chesa- Fox. "J

peake was frozen over. "J From the above contradictory and unsatisfactory ac-

A correspondent in the American Sporting Magazine counts, we have been led to believe that there is but one

says, " I think it probable that they were brought over species of red Fox in the United States, and the country

and turned out at other places, and at very early periods, north of them; this opinion is strengthened by much col-

In 1789, when quite a boy, I was at the death of the first lateral evidence. Thus, Dr. Richardson expressly states,

red Fox killed in Perry county, Pennsylvania. Not a "It (the common Fox) does not exist in the countries

person present, or any one who saw it for some days, had north of Canada, lying to the eastward of the Rocky

ever seen or heard of an animal of the kind. At last it was Mountains, and consequently did not come under our

• Arclic Zoolo^.

t Travels in North America.

t Recollections of Washington, (t

t from Sporting Mag.)

* American Turf Register and Sporting JIaga

\ Ibid. i. 197.

X Richardson, Faun. am. bor. 97.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

29

notice on the late expeditions."* This at once over-
throws Pennant's account, and proves that the Fox he
described as the same with the European, was in reality
the V. fulvus. As to the first tradition, given by Kalm,
none of the Indian tribes inhabiting New England could,
possibly, possess any knowledge of the state of the sea to
the north, as to this day, the tribes dwelling even 20 de-
grees nearer its shores, are wholly ignorant of it; added to
which, the intermediate nations have been from time im-
memorial at war with their neighbours. As regards the
introduction of common Foxes into our country from Eu-
rope, for the purposes of hunting, we confess we are scep-
tical, though we cannot absolutely deny the fact. But,
even granting that they were thus introduced, it would by
no means account for the great numbers of these animals
which are now to be found, without allowing that their
prolific powers have wonderfully increased by their change
of climate. There is some discrepancy of opinion among
authors, as to the colour of the tip of the tail in the com-
mon Fox: Linnaeus, and most other writers, say it is
white, whilst Desmarest asserts it is black. This part in
the red Fox, as far as we can ascertain, is invariably
whitish or white, and never black.

Since we commenced this investigation, we have ex-
amined a great number of skins of red Foxes, and inva-
riably found all those which were acknowledged to be
American, of one species, the fulvus. Without relying
on our own researches alone, we have asked the opinion of
others, and have found that our ideas were confirmed by
those who have had ample opportunities for information on
the subject Mr. T. Peale permits us to state, that during
his excursions, and among the various specimens he has
seen, he has never met with the common Fox as occurring
in the United States. None of the cabinets in this city even
contain a specimen of the V. vulgaris.

The red Fox is about two feet, to two feet and a half, in
length; the tail, with the fur, about sixteen inches; height,
from fourteen to eighteen inches. It burrows in the sum-
mer, and in winter sometimes takes shelter in the hollow
of a tree, or under one which has fallen. Their usual
haunts are in dense thickets, where they are with difficulty
followed. The female brings forth in the spring, and has
from four to five at a litter. The young are covered at
birth with a soft downy fur, of a yellowish gray colour,
the ferruginous hair not appearing till they are from five to
six weeks old. When taken at an early age, this species
may be domesticated to a certain degree, though they
always retain some of their savage propensities. Dr.
Richardson says he procured four cubs, a fortnight old,

* Richardson, Faun, am, bor. 97.

which were thought by the hunters to be the cross variety,
but which eventually proved the common red Fox. These
little creatures began very early to burrow in the sandy
floor of the house in which he kept them, and to conceal
themselves during the day. They, however, were very
tame, and would come on being called, taking food from
the hand and carrying it to their places of concealment,
never eating when overlooked.

A young one was also suckled at the Philadelphia Mu-
seum, by a cat, who continued to nurse it for several
weeks, when it was killed by a fall. They are unpleasant
pets, from the fetor of their urine somewhat resembling
that of the skunk. The red Fox, besides his depredations
on the poultry yards, likewise preys on smaller animals of
the rat kind, rabbits, &c. ; he is also fond of fish, and, in
fact, rejects no kind of animal food that comes in his way.
His flesh is rank and ill tasted, and is eaten only through
necessity.

The red Fox resembles his European congener, in his
craftiness and cunning, exhibiting the same wiles to escape
pursuit, and the same instinctive cautiousness of traps and
snares. It is said, that the red Fox of the present day is
killed in a much shorter time, and with more certainty,
than formerly. When pursued, they are more apt to for-
sake their haunts, and run for miles in one direction, than
the gray, which is often killed, even after a severe chase,
near the place from which it first set out. In this respect,
the latter is more analogous to the European. The red
Fox hunts for its food chiefly in the night time, but is also
frequently seen in the day. In the winter season, their
tracks are frequent on the borders of lakes and ponds,
which they quarter somewhat like a pointer dog. They
turn aside to almost every stump or twig appearing above
ground, and void their urine on it.

Various methods are made use of to entrap these suspi-
cious animals, as steel or box traps, and falls made of logs,
&c. ; but much nicety is required in setting them, or the
Fox will avoid them. A very neat and successful mode of
fixing a steel trap, has been described to us. After having
fixed on a place which they frequent, the trap is to be
opened and its exact form traced on the ground, and as
much earth removed as will contain it without pressure:
the sod removed from the top is to be laid over it, and the
lines of separation covered with mould, and grass stuck in
it. A bait of cheese is to be placed above, and in two or three
places in the neighbourhood, and it is better to bait the
spot in which the trap is set, for some days previous, to
remove all fear. Some of the best trappers ascribe their
success to the use of assafostida, castoreum, and other
analogous substances, with which they rub their traps, and
small twigs set up in the neighbourhood, alleging that

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

these substances invariably attract the animals. The box
trap has occasionally proved successful. The best plan is
to vary the modes from time to time.

CANIS rVULPES) FULVUS.

Var. a. Decussatus.
AMERICAN CROSS FOX.
Eenard barri ou Tsinantonqne. Theodat. Canada,
745. — European Fox. var. b. Cross Fox. Pennant,
,9rct. Zool. i. 46. — Canis decussatus. Geoffrot,
Desmarest, &c.

The American decussatus appears to bear the same
relation to the red Fox, as the European crucigera does
to the common Fox. The Indians, observes Dr. Richard-
son, consider it as a mere variety of the red Fox, and in
fact, the gradations of colour between characteristic speci-
mens of the cross and red Fox are so small, that the hunt-
ers are often in doubt with respect to the proper denomi-
nation of a skin.

The following description of a very characteristic speci-
men, is given by Mr. Sabine.

"The front of the head gray, composed of black and
white hairs, the latter predominating on the forehead;
ears covered with soft black fur behind, and with long
yellowish hairs within. The back of the neck and shoul-
ders pale ferruginous, crossed with dark stripes; one ex-
tending from the head over the back, the other passing it
at right angles over the shoulders ; rest of the back gray,
composed of black fur, tipped with white; the sides pale
ferruginous, running into the gray of the back; the chin
and all the under parts, as well as the legs, black; a few of
the hairs being tipped with white; the under part of the
tail and adjacent parts of the body, pale yellow; the gray
colour of the back extends to the upper part of the tail at
its commencement, the rest of the tail dark above and light
beneath, tipped with white."

F. Cuvier is inclined to think, that it is a variety of the
argentatus, and Godman supposes that it may possibly be
a mule produced between that Fox and the red. The fur
of this species is valuable, and is much more esteemed than
that of the red Fox, even where they are of equal fineness.

C.MNIS (VULPES) FULVUS.

Var. b. Argentatus.
BLACK, OR SILVER FOX.
Renard noir. Theodat. Canada. 744. — European
Fox, var. a. black. Pennant, Arc. Zool. i. 46. —
Renard noir ou argente. Geoff. Collec. de Mus. —

Renard argentL F. Cuvier, Mamm. lith. livr. v. —
Canis argentatus. Desmarest, Mamm. 203. Sabine,
Harlan. — Black, or Silver Fox. Godman, i. 274.

This variety is as rare in America as the analogous
one is in Europe, a greater number than four or five being
seldom taken in a season, at any one post of the fur com-
panies. Capell Brooke observes of the European variety,
" The silver, or black Fox is so rare, that seldom more
than three or four are taken in the course of a year on the
Lofoden Islands, and I have never heard of its being
met with in any other part of Norway. " Pennant seems
to think that this may arise from their superior cunning,
for he remarks "that the more desirable the fur is, the
more cunning, and difficult to be taken, is the Fox that
owns it." This, however, is erroneous, it depending
solely on the rarity of the animal. Dr. Godman says, it
more closely resembles the gray Fox than any other,
differing from it only, in the colour and copiousness of
its fur.

This Fox is sometimes of a rich lustrous black colour,
with the exception of the end of the tail, which is white.
But it varies much in this particular. " A fine specimen,
preserved in the Hudson's Bay Museum, has the head and
back hoary, most of the long hairs on those parts being
white from the tip for a considerable way down. The
downy fur at the root of the longer hairs, has a dark black-
ish brown colour The nose, legs, sides of the neck and
all the under parts, are dusky, approaching to black. The
tail is black. Its ears are erect, triangular, but not verj^
acute, and are covered with a soft fur of a brownish black
colour. In some individuals, the fur, which in most parts
is hoary, has a shining black colour, unmixed with white,
from the crown of the head to the middle of the back, and
down the outside of the shoulders, being an approach to
the cruciform arrangement."*

This Fox resembles its kindred, in the unpleasant odour
it diffuses. F. Cuvier mentions that its smell is very disa-
greeable, but differs somewhat from that of the common
Fox of Europe. The black Fox inhabits the same districts
as the red Fox.

» Richardson, O. C. 95.

NOTE. — As we are very solicitous that the Natural History of our native
animals should be extricated from the confusion and uncertainty in which it still
remains; we would feel under obligations to any of our readers, who will furnish
us with such information as they may possess respecting them. We are led to
make this request, from a desire to render our work a repository of facts in Na-
tural History, which will always serve for useful reference. As regards the
opinion we have expressed with respect to the Red Fox, we shall be very willing
to acknowledge our error, on the sight of the skin of the Common Fox, killed iu
the United Slates, and will feel much indebted for such an opportunity of set-
tling the question.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

31

WINTER WOLF-SKALLS,

Or the manner of destroying Wolves in Sweden ; with
Anecdotes of these ferocious animals.

WoLF-SKALLS are not unfrequent during the winter,
in the vicinity of Stoclcholm. These, as I have said, are
conducted at that period of the year in a very different
manner to what is usual in the summer time. I had hoped
to have been a spectator on one of these occasions, but un-
fortunately no chasse took place during my stay in the
capital.

There is a skall-plats, or hunting place, for Wolves,
situated at less than four miles from Stoclvholm. This is
an area marked out in the forest by a pathway of about
four paces in width. It is in the form of a sugar loaf, and
two thousand four hundred fathoms, or four thousand eight
hundred yai-ds, in circumference. In the centi-e of the
area, the lure, or carrion, to attract the Wolves, was de-
posited; at its upper end are five screens, or lodges; these
are intended for the accommodation of the sportsmen when
a skall takes place; that in the centre is reserved for the
use of such parts of the ro}^al family as may think proper
to participate in the amusement.

As soon as the snow falls, this skall-plats is watched
both night and day by persons appointed for the purpose.
When, therefore, it is discovered by the tracks that a suf-
ficient number of Wolves are congregated at the carrion, a
singular expedient is adopted to prevent those animals
again retreating from the area.

This is effected by extending a piece, or rather many
pieces of canvass (Jagttyg,) on poles previously driven
into the ground for the purpose, around the whole skall-
plats. On this are painted, in very glaring colours, the
heads of men, animals, &c. If the Wolves be once sur-
rounded by this artificial barrier, it is said that the hideous
figures, thus dangling in the wind, usually deter those ani-
mals from leaving the place.

As every thing is in readiness on the spot, this operation
ought not to occup}'^ more than two hours: when it is com-
pleted, information is sent off to the authorities, and the
requisite number of people to form the cordon is instantly
ordered out.

When the men are assembled, a line of circumvallation
is at once formed about the area. The nets are now set up
around the smaller end of the skall-plats; these may be
about seven feet in height, and may extend for one thou-
sand, or one thousand five hundred paces in length. The
people at tliis point remain stationary, whilst those who
are placed at the broader extremity of the figure advance
upon their comrades. There are several pathways across

the plats, cut through the trees, and on reaching these the
driving division halts and rectifies disorders. Thus the
Wolves, or other wild beasts, are gradually forced towards
the skreens, or lodges, where they ai'e of course readily
slaughtered.

The above plan of killing Wolves in the winter season is
adopted in many parts of Sweden.

Mr. Greiff has treated rather fully upon the several ways
in which Wolves may be destroyed. I subjoin a few of
that gentleman's observations regarding the winter-skalls.

" The inducement to form a place of lure, must be de-
rived from the reports which come in to the governor from
the county, of the damage done by wild beasts during tlie
summer.

"When the Ofwer Jagmastare, or head forest ranger, has
received intelligence on the preceding point, he examines
the woods in those tracts where the Wolves have done
most damage, and have probably whelped, and makes
choice of the most suitable spot on which a place of lure
can be formed.

"A suitable spot means one which is covered with a
tolerably thick wood of large trees, especially spruce,
where the ground is undulating, and which contains fens
and mosses ; and of such great extent, that the pathway
(Skallgatan) does not pass over fields or plains which pre-
vent the tracing of the animals, after a fall of snow or sleet.
The wood must be left quiet from passengers, or woods-
men, during the time of hunting, or, in other words, the
winter season; and should be situated near the centre of
the parish, whose peasants are to form the skall. A cot-
tage should be near the place, that the under-huntsmen may
find quarters, and have opportunity to call up in haste the
men employed to fasten on the Jagttyg, or hunting-cloth,
by which the daily watch of a whole division of the coun-
try for this purpose will be avoided.

"The hewing down of the trees, for the purpose of
forming the skall-plats, or place of lure, should take place
in the month of August or September, when the assistance
of the authorities must be required. If the wood is not of
the thickest and heaviest kind, the skall-plats should be
ready in two to three days, with thirty to forty labourers
per day."

Mr. Greiff then describes the manner in which the skall-
plats is to be prepared ; but as the particulars would proba-
bly prove little interesting to the reader, I have thought it
best to omit them.

Mr. Greiff goes on to say : " When the skall-plats is
ready, it must be kept undisturbed by the woodsmen and
from all noise.

" In the month of October, when the peasants begin to
kill their worn-out horses, the head ranger gives them inti-

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

mation tliat tliey shall, in conformity to orders from au-
thority, transport them to the hunting or lure-place, and
give the necessary orders for their skinning, and also that
a huntsman is at hand to direct that the carrion should be
laid in the proper place.

" As soon as the ground is frozen, the hunting-cloth is
brought out, which must be smoothed well down and
beaten with fir branches, so that all shall be in order for
the first falling snow; for the hunts which can be formed
by the traces on the first snow, or before Christmas, are
the surest.

'< Two huntsmen must be ordered to keep watch at the
skall-plats, the day on which the snow has fallen; and
they should go round it three times a day, morning and
evening, and once during the njght with a lantern of tin,
made so that it only throws light from the bottom; the
marks of the animals going in and out are to be carefully
noted each time, and written down in a journal, and
whether they follow each other in numbers, or go singly.
<' An experienced huntsman will soon discover at what
time the animals visit the carrion; the 8th, 11th, and 14th
day is usually the period, after they have once eaten of it.
It happens that Wolves, early in winter, get into the skall-
plats and lie there several days, without their traces being
discovered; and on such occasions, it is necessary to drive
them gently out again, in order to ascertain their number.
" Each time of going round the area, every track is to be
swept out with a long broom; and if the huntsman at any
time have occasion to step out of the pathway (Skallgatan,)
the marks should be immediately swept out. Birds of
prey, such as ravens and crows, must not be frightened
away, because they entice the wild beasts by their cries,
and give them confidence.

"The huntsmen examine each his side of the skall-
plats : should it be found, when they meet, that traces of
animals having entered are sufficiently numerous to fasten
up the hunting-cloths, the men for that purpose are called
out immediately, and the fastening is to be executed with
all possible expedition, and the whole ought to be finished
within two hours.

" The fastening ought to commence either at the top or
at the bottom of the skall-plats, where two rolls of cloth
should be lying ready : one man unloosens the roll — the
other carries the pole on which it is wound: — they advance
along the line, unwinding as they go. The roll should be
wound round the pole, so that it unwinds correctly and
easily. A third man fastens the cloth round the end of
each stake. When the hunting-cloth is fastened up, the
men so employed return each along his allotted distance,
and rectifies what he finds amiss: the pieces of cloth ought
to hang three feet from the ground. The huntsmen then

reconnoitre the skall-plats, to ascertain whether the ani-
mals have escaped during the fastening; if that be the case,
the hunting-cloths are immediately taken down, wound up,
and laid in their places.

" When it is found that the animals are enclosed, mes-
sengers, who ought to be always in readiness, should be
immediately despatched, to apprise the people of the time
of assembling for the hunt, and of the number required,
according to the size of the skall-plats, reckoning eight,
and at the utmost ten, hunting paces between each person.
"From the moment it is ascertained that the animals
are enclosed, and until the hunt takes place, the utmost
silence should be observed at and about the skall-plats.

" When the people are assembled, and the numbers
communicated to the head ranger, they are to advance
silently to the skall-plats: they are to be formed in two
divisions, either at the top or at the bottom. A huntsman
goes before each division, and a huntsman after. They
place each peasant in his proper situation, and inform him
what he is to attend to, namely, to stand on the outside
of the hunting-cloths ; to remain silent ; and not to go
from his post: but if the animals show themselves, he is to
shake and strike against the cloths with his hunting-staff or
spear.

" The skalfogdar, or subordinate ofiicers of the hunt,
are to be chosen from trusty people, who are acquainted
with the locality ; soldiers are preferable : these, together
with the superfluous huntsmen, are to be distributed among
the body which is to advance, and should, for the preser-
vation of better order, be distinguished by some badge.

" Should there be any of the Royal Family present, the
head-ranger himself should advance in the centre ; other-
wise, a trusty huntsman, who should preserve a steady
pace in his advance.

" The driving division ought to advance slowly, because

too much haste brings the people sooner into disorder.

The movement ought to be effected without shots or cries;

only they are to strike the trees with their hunting-poles,

and examine carefully if any animal has hidden himself, or

lies dead.

" When the people have advanced to tlie farthest point,

the wild animals which have been shot are to be conveyed

to the King's skreen.

" No otlier than good marksmen shall be allowed to

carry a gun."

Mr. Greiff has given some farther directions regarding

the manner in which the Wolf-skall is to be organized and

conducted.

" During my stay at Stockholm, I visited the skall-plats

of which I have just been speaking: — this was along with

Mr. Arenius, the head-ranger of the district, who was

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

so obliging as to explain the nature and purport of every
thing.

On this occasion, I was in company with Count Charles
Frederic Piper, a Swedish nobleman of high rank. The
Count held the appointment of Forste Hofjagmastare,
which may be rendered in French, (for in English I know
of no equivalent,) Grand Veneur de la covr. As this is
the second office in the gift of the Swedish Crown, in re-
gard to the forests, I was of course at head quarters for
sporting information. To this accomplished nobleman I
am under the greatest obligations, as well for his attentions
whilst I remained at Stockholm, as at an after period,
when I partook of the hospitalities of his princely resi-
dence at Lofstad.

At this time, the ground was covered with snow to the
depth of six or eight inches: there were then, as we saw
by their tracks, one, if not two Wolves feeding upon the
carrion. As there were more of those animals, however,
known to be in the vicinity, which, it was daily expected,
might follow the example of their comrades, — and as it
was contrary to rule to call out the people, unless a greater
number were within the skall-plats, INIr. Arenius did not
feel himself justified in taking this step, which he much
regretted as he was very anxious to gratify my curiosity,
in witnessing the destruction of some of these pernicious
beasts. Though no chasse took place whilst I remained
in the capital, in the commencement of the following
April, five wolves were one day slaughtered in this very
skall-plats.

Very considerable numbers of those animals are some-
times killed in the winter-skalls: I have heard of as many
as fifteen being shot in a day. On these occasions, wolves
never, I believe, turn upon their assailants ; but, when
they find escape impossible, they generally skulk, and en-
deavour to hide themselves. Mr. Greiflfsays, they do not
attempt to leap over the nets, but always endeavour to
creep under them.

No one is allowed to use balls at a Wolf-skall, for fear
of accidents; these animals are therefore destroj^ed with
large shot.

Anecdotes of Wolves. — As usually happens when
the weather is severe, the Wolves now became rather trou-
blesome. Indeed, I heard of their committing many de-
predations in different parts of the surrounding country:
for this reason, I went on one or two little expeditions, un-
der the idea that I might be enabled to destroy some of
tliose voracious animals.

Wolves are very partial to a pig. My plan of proceed-
ing, therefore, was this: I caused one of these animals, of
a small size, to be sewed up in a sack, with the exception
of his snout; and I then placed him in my sledge. To the
I

back of this vehicle I fastened a rope of about fifty feet in
length, to the extreme end of which was attached a small
bundle of straw, covered with a black sheepskin ; this,
when the sledge was in motion, dangled about in such a
manner as to be a good representation of the pig. Thus
prepared, I drove in the night time through such districts
as were known to be frequented by Wolves. To attract
these animals towards us we kept occasionally pinching
the poor pig, who, not liking this treatment, made the
forest ring again with his squeaks.

This plan of shooting Wolves with the assistance of a
pig is not very unfrequently resorted to in Scandinavia,
when the weather is severe. If those dangerous animals
happen to hear the cries of the pig, it is said they almost
always approach immediately near to the sledge, when it
is not, of course, difficult to kill them.

All my expeditions, however, proved unsuccessful; for,
owing to the wandering habits of the Wolves, I was never
able to fall in with them. On some of these occasions I
have suffered a good deal from cold ; as, from the necessity
that existed of being always ready for action, it did not
answer to be hampered with too much clothing. My poor
pig, I remember, had once his ears so hard frozen, that
they might have almost been broken off in the same man-
ner as so much glass.

About a week prior to this time, a peasant on his return
home from Amal, one evening tied his horse up to his
door, whilst he carried the harness within the house. At
this moment, a number of Wolves made their appearance,
when the frightened animal broke his bridle, and ran off at
the top of his speed. The Wolves, however, gave chase
to the horse, and soon succeeded in coming up with him in
the forest, when they quickly destr03^ed him.

During my excursion, I visited the spot where the poor
animal met his doom, but, with the exception of a bone or
two that were strewed about, not a vestige of the carcase
was to be seen ; the Wolves having, by this time, devoured
the whole of it. There was some blood on the snow,
which was trodden down in the vicinity, in the same man-
ner as if it had been gone over by a flock of sheep.

Though I was generally quite alone, with the exception
of my driver, during these expeditions, I do not apprehend
I ran much personal risk; the greatest danger was from
the horse proving unsteady, in the event of the Wolves
making their appearance. In that case, the sledge would
not improbably have been overturned, when I, in conse-
quence, might have been left to my fate. From the
Wolves themselves, under other circumstances, I enter-
tained little apprehension, as I was usually armed with a
good cutlass, and more than one gun.

It is said, that people have incurred some jeopardy when

34

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY.

on these expeditions. The following anecdote was related
to me by Mr. Garberg, at Gefle. Of the truth of the story,
which occurred near to that place, that gentleman did not
seem to entertain a doubt.

About twenty years ago, during a very severe winter,
and when there were known to be many Wolves roaming
about the country, a Captain Nordenalder, together with
several companions, started off on an excursion similar to
those I have been describing.

The party were provided with a large sledge, such as are
used in Sweden to convey coke to the furnaces, a pig, and
an ample supply of guns, ammunition, &c. They drove
on to a great piece of water which was then frozen over, in
the vicinity of Forsbacka, and at no great distance from
the town of Geflc. Here they began to pinch ■'he ears,
&c. of the pig, wlio of course squeaked out tremendously.

This, as they anticipated, soon drew a multitude of fam-
ished Wolves about their sledge. When these had ap-
proached within range, the party opened a fire upon them,
and destroyed or mutilated several of the number. All
the animals that were either killed or wounded were
quickly torn to pieces and devoured by their companions.
This, as I have observed, is said invariably to be the case,
if there be many congregated together.

The blood with which the ravenous beasts had now glut-
ted themselves, instead of satiating their hunger, only
served to make them more savage and ferocious than be-
fore; for, in spite of the fire kept up by the party, they
advanced close to the sledge with the apparent intention of
making an instant attack. To preserve their lives, there-
fore, the Captain and his friends threw the pig on the ice;
this, which was quickly devoured by the Wolves, had the
effect, for the moment, of diverting their fury to another
object.

Whilst this was going forward, the horse, driven to des-
peration by the near approach of the ferocious animals,
struggled and plunged so violently, that he broke the shafts
to pieces: being thus disengaged from the vehicle, the poor
animal galloped off, and, as the story goes, succeeded in
making good his escape.

When the pig was devoured, which was probably hardly
the work of a minute, the Wolves again threatened to
attack the party; and as the destruction of a few out of so
immense a drove as was then assembled, only served to
render the survivors more blood-thirsty, the Captain and
his friends now turned their sledge bottom up, and thus
took refuge beneath its friendly shelter.

In this situation, it is said, they remained for many
hours, the Wolves in that while making repeated attempts
to get at them, by tearing the sledge with their teeth. At
length, however, assistance arrived, and they were then,

to their great joy, relieved from their most perilous situ-
ation.

Captain Eurenius, when he was quite a boy, in com-
pany with a brother who was younger than himself, once
went on a similar expedition to those of which I have been
speaking.

It was in the depth of winter, the cold at the time being
very severe, when these striplings proceeded in their
sledge to an inlet of the Wenern, which was then sheeted
with ice, and which was known to be much frequented by
Wolves.

They had a pig along with them, as usual, who, by the
application of a corking-pin, they soon caused to open his
pipes in such a manner that he might have been heard at
two or three miles distance. These cries soon attracted
the Wolves to the spot: when they had approached to
within a short distance of the sledge. Captain Eurenius dis-
charged his piece, and severely wounded, as he supposed,
one of the number.

The report of the gun, however, caused the horse to
take fright, when capsizing the sledge, and smashing the
shafts to pieces, he went off at full gallop, with the latter
dangling at his heels.

The Captain and his brother were now in a rather awk-
ward predicament: they had, besides, lost their ammuni-
tion, and had only one loaded gun left. Leaving the pig
in the sledge to its fate, they therefore faced towards their
home, from which they were distant several miles, at their
best pace. In this while, as it may be supposed, they cast
many an anxious look behind, to see if the Wolves were in
pursuit.

These fears, however, were at length relieved; for, after
proceeding some way, they met their father and a posse of
people advancing to their assistance ; these had seen the
horse come galloping home with the broken shafts; when,
knowing the nature of the service on which these two ad-
venturers had been engaged, as well as the direction they
had taken, they lost no time in hastening towards the spot.
The meeting was a joyful one; the father being not a little
delighted thus to find his sons in safety.

The whole party then repaired to the scene of action:
here they found the pig had been taken from the sledge
and devoured. This also seemed to have been the fate of
a wolf, — the same, it was supposed, that Captain E. fired
at; for some pieces of skin, and bones, of one of those
ferocious animals, were found near to the spot.

During severe weather, when Wolves are famishing with
hunger, their natural timidity, as I have said, forsakes
them, and then they oftentimes conduct their attacks in the
most daring manner. Among several instances of the kind
which have come to my knowledge, I select the following:

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

In the depth of a hard winter, many years ago, Captain
Eurenius and a friend were one evening transversing the
Wenern lake, which was then firmly frozen over; this was
at no great distance from the town of Wenersborg, situated,
as I have said, at the southern extremity of that noble ex-
panse of water.

They were in a sledge, and jogging quietly along, when,
suddenly, their horse pulled up, and became violently
alarmed and agitated. For a while they were at a loss to
divine the reason why the animal should be so much
affrighted, but on looking ahead, they discovered a drove
of twelve or fourteen Wolves; these presently approached
to within a very short distance of their vehicle, and seemed
to threaten them with an immediate attack.

Very unfortunately, they had no gun along with them on
this occasion; but both were armed with good swords.
Captain E. therefore took the reins, whilst his friend jump-
ing out of the sledge, posted himself, sabre in hand, imme-
diately in front of the horse; by these means their ferocious
assailants were kept at bay. Finding himself thus protect-
ed, the poor animal again moved forward.

The man now kept advancing a pace or two a-head of
the horse, brandishing his sword all the while to drive off
the Wolves; these were never more than a very short dis-
tance from him, and often so near, that he could almost
touch them with the point of his weapon.

In this manner, the two travellers proceeded for five or
six miles, and until they reached the very outskirts of the
town of Wenersborg, when the Wolves thought it prudent
to beat a retreat.

Captain E. said, moreover, that the Wolves never attempt-
ed to get into the rear of the sledge, but always kept in ad-
vance of it. This, if it be practicable, is usually the case
witli those animals; and is supposed to be owing to their
dread of falling into an ambuscade.

Some fifty years ago, when quite a boy. Captain Eure-
nius was one starlight and very cold night, returning from
a dance in the vicinity of Wenersborg. It was Christmas-
time, and there were fifteen or sixteen sledges in company:
most of the horses were provided with such bells as those
of which I have made mention. In the middle of the
cavalcade was a sledge occupied by a lady; at the back of
the vehicle, as is frequently the case, sat the servant, who
was driving; whilst on a bear-skin, which covered her feet,
a favourite lap-dog was reposing. In passing through a
wood, however, and in spite of the jingling of the bells, &c.,
a large Wolf suddenly sprang from a thicket, when, seizing
the poor dog, he leaped over the sledge, and was out of sight
in a thick brake on the opposite side of the wood in the
course of a few seconds.

A somewhat similar anecdote to the above was related to
me by Lieutenant Oldenburg.

Two of his friends, whose names I forget, when on a jour-
ney in the winter-time, were accompanied by a favourite
dog, which was following immediately in the rear of the
sledge. All of a sudden, two famished Wolves dashed at
the dog, who, to save himself, ran to the side of the vehicle,
and jumped over the shafts between the horse and the body
of the carriage. The Wolves, nothing deterred, had the
audacity to take a similar leap; when, as ill-luck would
have it, they got hold of the poor animal.

The dog, however, was large and powerful, and his neck,
besides, was armed with one of those formidable spiked
collars so common to be seen in Sweden. From these
causes, he was enabled to escape from the fangs of his assail-
ants, when he at once sprang into the sledge, as if to claim
protection from his masters.

Here, however, the Wolves were afraid to pursue him,
though, for a considerable distance, they still continued to
follow the vehicle. On this occasion, both of Lieutenant
O.'s friends were unarmed, and, in consequence, the beasts
escaped with impunity.

Another anecdote, of rather a curious nature, was told me
by an acquaintance of mine in Wermeland.

A peasant was one day crossing a large lake in his sledge,
when he was attacked by a drove of Wolves. This fright-
ened the horse so much, that he went off at full speed.
There was at this time a loose rope hanging from the back
of the vehicle, that had been used for binding hay, or other
purposes: to the end of this a noose happened to be attach-
ed. Though this was not intended to catch a Wolf, it
fortunately effected that desirable object; for one of the fe-
rocious animals getting his feet entangled within it, he was
presently destroyed, owing to the pace at which the horse
was proceeding.

The poor peasant, at last, reached a place of safety.
Though he had been dreadfully frightened during the chase,
he not only found himself much sooner at the end of his
journey than he had expected, but richer by the booty he
had thus unexpectedly obtained. The skin of a Wolf, in
Sweden, is worth, at this time, about fifteen rix-dollars, or
as many shillings.

The following circumstance, showing the savage nature
of the Wolf, and interesting in more than one point of view,
was related to me by a gentleman of rank attached to the
embassy at St. Petersburg: it occurred in Russia some few
years ago.

A woman, accompanied by three of her children, were
one day in a sledge, when they were pursued by a number
of Wolves. On this, she put her horse into a gallop, and
drove towards her home, from which she was not far dis-
tant, with all possible speed. All, however, would not
avail, for the ferocious animals gained upon her, and, at last,
were on the point of rushing on the sledge. For the pre-

servation of her own life and that of the remaining children,
the poor, frantic creature now took one of her babes, and
cast it a prey to her blood-thirsty pursuers. This stopped
their career for a moment; but, after devouring the little
innocent, they renewed the pursuit, and a second time came
up with the vehicle. The mother, driven to desperation,
resorted to the same horrible expedient, and threw her fero-
cious assailants another of her offspring. To cut short this
melancholy story, her third child was sacrificed in a similar
manner.

Soon after this, the wretched being, whose feelings may
more easily be conceived than described, reached her home
in safety. Here she related what had happened, and en-
deavoured to palliate her own conduct, by describing the
dreadful alternative to which she had been reduced. A
peasant, however, who was among the by-standers, and
heard the recital, took up an axe, and with one blow cleft
her skull in two; saying, at the same time, that a mother
who could thus sacrifice her children for the preservation
of her own life, was no longer fit to live.

This man was committed to prison, but the Emperor
subsequently gave him a pardon.

This gentleman related to me another curious circum-
stance regarding Wolves: it happened at no great distance
from St. Petersburg, only two years previously.

A peasant, when one day in his sledge, was pursued by
eleven of these ferocious animals: at this time, he was only
about two miles from home, towards which he urged his
horse at the very top of his speed. At the entrance to his
residence was a gate, which happened to be closed at the
time; but the horse dashed this open, and thus himself and
his master found refuge within the court-yard.

They were followed, however, by nine out of the eleven
Wolves: but, very fortunately, at the instant these had
entered the enclosure, the gate swung back on its hinges,
and thus they were caught as in a trap. From being the
most voracious of animals, the nature of these beasts, now
that they found escape impossible, became completely
changed: so far, indeed, from offering molestation to any
one, they slunk into holes and corners, and allowed them-
selves to be slaughtered almost without making resistance.
It is said, that the mere act of striking a light with flint
and steel, has often the effect of intimidating a Wolf; and
that the rattling of a chain not unfrequently answers the
like purpose. In the event of a person, when unarmed,
being attacked by these blood-thirsty brutes, these things
are worth knowing; for, though apparently trifling in them-
selves, they might be the means of saving his life.

In some parts of Scandinavia, when people are travelling
during the winter-time over extended plains, lakes, &c.
which are known to be much frequented by Wolves, it is
the custom to attach a long rope to the back of the sledge;

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

the serpentine motion that this makes, when the vehicle is
proceeding, has, it is said, the effect of deterring these ani-
mals from making their attacks. — Lloyd's Field Sports.

INFLUENCE OF MUSIC UPON MICE.

The following anecdote of the influence of music
upon a Mouse, is related by Dr. Archer, of Norfolk.

"On arainy evening in the winter of 1S15," says this gen-
tleman, " as I was alone in my chamber, I took up my flute,
and commenced playing. In a few minutes my attention
was directed to a mouse that I saw creeping from a hole,
and advancing towards the chair I was sitting in; I ceased
playing, and it ran precipitately back to its hole: I began
again shortly afterwards, and was much surprised to see it
re-appear, and take its old position. The appearance of the
little animal was truly delightful — it couched itself on the
floor, shut its eyes, and appeared to be in ecstasy: I ceased
playing, and it instantly disappeared again. This experi-
ment I repeated frequently, with the same success, observ-
ing that it was always differently affected, as the music va-
ried from the slow and plaintive to the brisk or lively.
It finally went off, and all my art could not entice it to
return."

A more remarkable instance of this fact was recently in-
serted in the Philadelphia Medical and PhysicalJournal,
communicated by Dr. Cramer, of Jefferson county. The
circumstance, he says, was related to him by a gentleman
of undoubted veracity.

" One evening in the month of December, as a few offi-
cers on board a British man of war, in the harbour of Ports-
mouth, were seated round the fire, one of them began to
play a plaintive air on the violin. He had scarcely per-
formed ten minutes, when a mouse, apparently frantic,
made its appearance in the centre of the floor, near the
large table which usually stands in the ward room. 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 extatic delight. It was observed, that in pro-
portion to the gradation of the tones to the soft point, the
feelings of the animal appeared to be increased, and vice
versa. After performing actions, which an animal so di-
minutive would at first sight seem incapable of, the little
creature, to the astonishment of the delighted spectators,
suddenly ceased to move, fell down, and expired, without
evincing any symptoms of pain." — Sport. Mag.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

QUAIL, OR PARTRIDGE.
PERDIX VIRGINIANUS.

[Plate IV. — Male and Female.]
Arct. Zool. 318, No. 185.— Catesb. App. p. \2.— Vir-
ginian Quail, TuRT. Syst. p. 460. — Maryland Q.
Ibid. — Le Perdrix d^Jimerique, Briss. i. 231. — Buff.
ii. 447. — Tetrao Virginianus, Linn. Syst. ed. 10, p.
161. T. Marilandicus, id. ib. — Perdix Virginiana,
Lath, Lid. Orn. p. 650. P. Marilanda, id. p. 651. —
Caille de la Louisiane, Buff. PL Enl. 149. — J.
Doughty's Collection.

This well-known bird is a general inhabitant of North
America, from the Northern parts of Canada and Nova
Scotia, in which latter place it is said to be migratory, to the
extremity of the peninsula of Florida; and was seen in the
neighbourhood of the Great Osage village, in the interior of
Louisiana. They are numerous in Kentucky and Ohio;
Mr. Pennant remarks, that they have been lately intro-
duced into the island of Jamaica, where they appear to
thrive greatly, breeding in that warm climate twice in the
year. Captain Henderson mentions them as being plenty
near the Balize, at the Bay of Honduras. They rarely fre-
quent the forest, and are most numerous in the vicinity
of well cultivated plantations, where grain is in plenty.
They, however, occasionally seek shelter in the woods,
perching on the branches, or secreting among the brush
wood; but are found most usually in open fields, or along
fences sheltered by thickets of briars. Where they are not
too much persecuted by the sportsmen, they become almost
half domesticated; approach the barn, particularly in win-
ter, and sometimes in that severe season mix with the poul-
try, to glean up a subsistence. They remain with us the
whole year, and often suffer extremely by long hard win-
ters, and deep snows. Indeed, it often happens that whole
coveys are found frozen to death, or so extremely reduced,
as not possessing sufficient power to fly. An instance of
this kind occurred in the centre of the city of Philadelphia.
In the very severe winter of 1828, a quantity of rubbish
was removed from the large lot of ground at the corner of
Eleventh and Market streets, owned by S. Girard, esq. un-
der which a covey of Partridges was discovered in so weak
and famished a state, as to be taken by the hand. These
birds, it is supposed, were hatched in this lot the preceding
summer, as persons residing in that vicinity heard them
frequently whistling through the season. During these
protracted snows, the arts of man combine with the incle-
mency of the season for their destruction, and to the ravages
of the gun are added others of a more insidious kind. Traps
are placed on almost every plantation, in such places as

they are known to frequent. These are formed of lath,
or thinly split sticks, somewhat in the shape of an obtuse
cone, laced together with cord, having a small hole at top,
with a sliding lid, to take out the game by. This is sup-
ported by the common figure 4 trigger, and grain is scat-
tered below, and leading to the place. By this contrivance
ten or fifteen have sometimes been taken at a time. But,
a more barbarous, and as equally successful a mode is em-
ployed by many to entrap them, by fixing snoods made of
horse hair across the paths and furrows of such fields, and
thickets, as are frequented by these birds, especially their
roosting grounds. This is done by driving into the ground
small stakes, about ten inches in length, and two inches
apart, to the distance of five or six feet, similar to a fence,
leaving the spaces where the snoods are suspended much
wider, and to the number, perhaps, of four or five. The
Partridges, in running the path, finds this impediment, and
attempt to pass through the wider spaces, and are caught
by the neck, where they often remain in this cruel and
most tormenting situation for days. These are sometimes
brought alive to market, and occasionally bought up by
sportsmen, who, if the season be very severe, sometimes
preserve and feed them till spring, when they are humanely
turned out to their native fields again, to be put to death, at
some future time, secimdem artem. Between the months
of August and March, great numbers of these birds are
brought to the market of Philadelphia, where they are sold
from eight to eighteen cents a piece.

The Quail begins to build early in May. The nest is
made on the ground, usually at the bottom of a thick tuft of
grass that shelters and conceals it. The materials are
leaves and fine dry grass, in considerable quantity. It is
well covered above, and an opening left on one side for en-
trance. The female lays from fifteen to twenty-four eggs,
of a pure white without any spots; and during the period
of incubation are remarkably tenacious of their nest, for
rather than forsake it, they will frequently sacrifice their
lives, and it is by no means an uncommon occurrence for
them to fall victims to the scythe. The time of incubation
has been stated to me by various persons at four weeks,
when the eggs were placed under the domestic hen. The
young leave the nest as soon as they are freed from the
shell, and are conducted about in search of food by the
female; are guided by her voice, which at that time resem-
bles the twittering of young chickens, and sheltered by her
wings, in the same manner as those of the domestic fowl;
but with all that secrecy and precaution for their safety,
which their helplessness and greater danger require. In
this situation, should the little timid family be unexpectedly
surprised, the utmost alarm and consternation instantly
prevail. Sometimes, when an enemy approaches, (espe-

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

cially the sportsman's dog,) the mother will instantly
squat herself, and collect her little brood under her wings
for protection, and at this time she will remain so perfectly
tranquil as to permit the hand almost to grasp her, before
she will attempt to escape; she will then throw herself in
the path, fluttering along, and beating the ground with her
wings, as if sorely wounded, using every artifice she is
master of, to entice the passenger in pursuit of herself, ut-
tering at the same time certain peculiar notes of alarm,
well understood by the young, who dive separately amongst
the grass, and secrete themselves till the danger is over;
and the parent, having decoyed the pursuer to a safe dis-
tance, returns, by a circuitous route, to collect and lead
them off. This well known manoeuvre, which nine times
in ten is successful, is honourable to the feelings and judg-
ment of the bird, but a severe satire on man. The affec-
tionate mother, as if sensible of the avaricious cruelty of
his nature, tempts him with a larger prize, to save her
more helpless offspring; and pays him, as avarice and
cruelty ought always to be paid, with mortification and
disappointment.

The eggs of the Quail have been frequently placed under
the domestic hen, and hatched and reared with equal suc-
cess as her own ; though, generally speaking, the young
Partridges being more restless and vagrant, often lose them-
selves, and disappear. The hen ought to be a particularly
good nurse, not at all disposed to ramble, in which case
they are very easily raised. Those that survive, acquire all
the familiarity of common chickens; and there is little
doubt, that if proper measures were taken, and persevered
in for a few years, that they might be completely domes-
ticated. They have been often kept during the first sea-
son, and through the whole of the winter, but have uni-
formly deserted in the spring. Two young Partridges
that were brought up by a hen, when abandoned by her,
associated with the cows, which they regularly followed to
the fields, returned with them when they came home in
the evening, stood by them while they were milked, and
again accompanied them to the pasture. These remained
during the winter, lodging in the stable, but as soon as
spring came, they disappeared. Of this fact I was inform-
ed by a very respectable lady, by whom they were par-
ticularly observed.

It has been frequently asserted to me, that the Quails
lay occasionally in each other's nests. Though I have
never myself seen a case of this kind, I do not think it
altogether improbable, from the fact, that they have often
been known to drop their eggs in the nest of the common
hen, when that happened to be in the fields, or at a small
distance from the house. The two Partridges above men-
tioned were raised in this manner; and it was particularly

remarked by the lady, who gave me the information, that
the hen sat for several days after her own eggs were hatch-
ed, until the young Quails made their appearance.

The Partridge, on her part, has sometimes been em-
ployed to hatch the eggs of the common domestic hen. A
friend of mine, who himself made the experiment, informs
me, that of several hen's eggs which he substituted in
place of those of the Partridge, she brought out the whole;
and that for several weeks he occasionally surprised her in
various parts of the plantation, with her brood of chickens;
on which occasions she exhibited all that distressful alarm,
and practised her usual manoeuvres for their preservation.
Even after they were considerably grown, and larger than
the Partridge herself, she continued to lead them about;
but, though their notes, or call, were those of common
chickens, their manners had all the shyness, timidity,
and alarm of young Partridges ; running with great ra-
pidity, and squatting in the grass, exactly in the manner
of the Partridge. Soon after this they disappeared, having
probably been destroyed by dogs, by the gun, or by birds
of prey. Whether the domestic fowl might not by this
method be very soon brought back to its original savage
state, and thereby supply another additional subject for the
amusement of the sportsman, will scarcely admit of a
doubt. But the experiment, in order to secure its success,
would require to be made in a quarter of the country less
exposed than ours to the ravages of guns, traps, dogs, and
the deep snows of winter, that the new tribe might have
full time to become completely naturalized, and well fixed
in all their native habits.

About the beginning of September, the Quails being
now nearly full grown, and associated in flocks, or coveys,
of from four or five to thirty, afl"ord considerable sport to
the gunner. And, perhaps, of all the feathered tribe
which inhabit this country, none are persecuted with so
much untiring vigor, as this interesting little bird; the
delicacy of its flesh, its domestic qualities, and source of
profit, seems to mark it for that destruction which continu-
ally awaits it.

Ranking high in our scale of game, and being univer-
sally found in this country, the Partridge, by its familiar
habits, invites the sportsman, who pursues it as a source
of pleasurable recreation, superior to all others; and thus,
between man, hawks, and vermin, is a continual war
waged against this harmless bird, and every succeeding
year adds to the number and avidity of its enemies, but so
great is the fecundity of the Partridge, that instead of de-
creasing in quantity, they appear to thrive, and multiph',
in despite of the system of extermination carried on
against them. The most are killed by man, and he may
be fairly considered their greatest enemy; but, the Par-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

tridge is more fearful of the hawk, for when pursued by
this destructive bird, terror overcomes its instinct, and it
will oftimes fly, unmindful of the consequences, against a
tree or house with so much force, as to be killed; in fact,
frequently their whole muscular powers become so paral-
ized by dread, that it will suffer itself to be trodden upon,
or taken, without making an eifort to escape.

At this time, the notes of the male are most frequent,
clear, and loud. His common or early call, consists of
two notes, with sometimes an introductory one, and is
similar to the sound produced by pronouncing the words
<' Bob White." This call may bo easily imitated by
whistling, so as to deceive the bird itself, and bring it near.
While uttering this, he is usually perched on a rail of the
fence, or on a low limb of an apple-tree, wliere he will
sometimes sit, repeating at short intervals " Bob White,"
for half an hour at a time. It, however, is only practised
after pairing in the spring, and conthiues through the sum-
mer until about the middle of August, when it is substi-
tuted by another call, which is used by them until the time
of pairing comes on again. When a covey are assembled
in a thicket or corner of a field, and about to take wing,
they make a low twittering sound, not unlike that of young
chickens; and when the covey is dispersed, they are called
together again by a loud and frequently repeated note, pe-
culiarly expressive of tenderness and anxiety.

About the first of October they prepare for winter quar-
ters, and at this time commences what is called their run-
ning season, a singular habit of this bird, and may be ac-
counted for, in some measure, as follows: In open and
well cultivated grounds, their food and cover are destroyed
by the husbandman, who turns the soil in order to put in
his winter's grain ; added to this, are the few watering
places and swamps to afford them the means of life and pro-
tection, consequently, the birds, impelled bjr instinct, seek
those places in low and swampy countries, where they can
always procure water, and shelter from their enemies
and the severity of winter. Thus, in the neighbour-
hood of Philadelphia, and all populous cities, where the
country is in a high state of cultivation, does this circum-
stance of the Partridge occur; but, in New Jersey, Dela-
ware, and the interior of other States, it seldom or never
takes place.

The food of the Partridge consists of grain, seeds, in-
sects, and berries of various kinds. Buckwheat and Indian
corn are particular favourites. In September and October
the buckwheat fields afford them an abundant supply,
as well as a secure shelter. They usually roost at night in
the middle of a field, on high ground; and from the cir-
cumstance of their dung being often found in such places,
ia one round heap, it is generally conjectured tliat they

roost in a circle, with their heads outwards, each individual
in this position, forming a kind of guard to prevent sur-
prise. They also continue to lodge for several nights in the
same spot.

The majority of Partridges in a covey, are males; hence,
in the pairing season, it frequently happens that two cocks
claim the same hen, and decide their right by combat,
upon the truest principles of honor. A gentleman who
was an eye witness to a battle between two male Par-
tridges, during the past spring, stated that it lasted for a
considerable time. His attention was attracted by a rust-
ling noise in the bushes, accompanied with a twittering
sound, and examining into the cause, he perceived these
birds in close combat: after some time, one bird ran off to
a considerable distance, and was followed closely by his an-
tagonist, when they wheeled about, and returned to the
same spot, where they renewed the fight with increasing
vigor; then, in turn, the other bird acted in a similar man-
ner, by running away, being chased by his antagonist, and
in this way the battle was protracted for half an hour, and
until the contending parties became so exhausted, that our
friend put an end to the contest, by making them prisoners.

The Partridge, like all the rest of the gallinaceous order,
flies with a loud whirring sound, occasioned by the short-
ness, concavity, and rapid motion of its wings, and the com-
parative weight of its body. The steadiness of its horizon-
tal flight, however, renders it no difficult mark for the
sportsman, particularly when assisted by his sagacious
pointer. The flesh of this bird is peculiarly white, tender,
and delicate, unequalled, in these qualities, by that of any
other of its genus in the United States.

The Quail, as it is called in New England, or the Par-
tridge, as in Pennsylvania, is nine inches long, and four-
teen inches in extent; and will usually weigh from seven
to eight, and sometimes nine ounces, each ; the bill is
black; line over the eye, down the neck, and whole chin,
pure white, bounded by a band of black, which descends
and spreads broadly over the throat; the eye is dark hazel;
crown, neck, and upper part of the breast, red brown; sides
of the neck spotted with white and black, on a reddish
brown ground ; back, scapulars, and lesser coverts, red
brown, intermixed with ash, and sprinkled with black; ter-
tials edged with yellowish white; wings plain and dusky;
lower part of the breast and belly pale yellowish white;
beautifully marked with numerous curving spots, or arrow
heads of black; tail ash, sprinkled with reddish brown;
legs very pale ash.

The female differs in having the chin and sides of the
head yellowish brown, in which dress it has been described
as a different kind. There is, however, only one species of
Quail at present known within the United States.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

A HUNTING EXCURSION.

In the winter of 1817, (being a resident of Pike coun-
ty, in the northern part of Pennsylvania,) I shouldered my
rifle, and made a solitary hunting excursion after deer,
along the big Buskill, a creek or tributary stream to the
river Delaware, about one hundred miles north of Philadel-
phia, and remarkable for the rocky, barren country, through
which it finds its way.

At this period, the population was thin and scattered,
the nearest settlement, or town, being fifteen miles distant,
save the habitation from which I made my egress, and a
few other log dwellings in the neighbourhood. The rug-
ged and barren soil offered no inducements to the toilsome
hand of the pioneer, or agriculturalist. Wild animals
were numerous; deer, bears, panthers, and wolves, seemed
to be the sole inhabitants of this dreary solitude, while the
horrid yell, and devastating howl of the two latter, only
broke in upon the dull silence which reigned in this ro-
mantic wild.

The day on which I made the forementioned excursion,
was cold, dreary, and threatening rain. I had travelled, per-
haps, three miles before I succeeded in killing a deer,
although I saw several, but out of range of my trusty rifle;
this was a fine buck, and after divesting him of his offals, I
as usual, hung him on a snag projecting from the side of a
barren oak, until I could procure assistance to carry him
home. Being somewhat fatigued, I sat me down to rest on
a high, commanding spot, which was a craggy projecture,
terminating with a considerable precipice. I remained in
a contemplative mood, perhaps for fifteen minutes, when
my attention was aroused by a crackling noise on the oppo-
site side of the creek. I discovered it to proceed from a
panther, of enormous size, that was approaching the place
where I was seated, I however, soon lost sight of it, as it

appeared to go towards the foot of the precipice, immedi-
ately under my feet, and as I supposed, with the intention
of rising the hill. I seized my rifle, and sheltered myself
behind a large tree, and with breathless anxiety awaited
the moment, when my antagonist would show his head
at the top of the precipice; and, being thus prepared to let
fly the messenger of death, I felt but little alarm, from the
assurance of my ability to dispatch the monster, so soon as
the opportunity offered.

But, I had mistaken the course and object of the animal,
and the precautionary steps I had taken, proved in the
sequel, to have been my guarantee of safety, for I had
scarcely adjusted every thing necessary in these cases,
when I heard a yell, the most ferocious and terrific that
the mind can conceive, and in a moment, the panther
made a spring from the bottom of the precipice into a tree,
twenty feet from the ground, foaming, yelling, and tearing
the bark and branches with her claws, and distant from me
about eighteen or twenty yards. The paroxysms of rage
exhibited at this time by the creature, exceeded any thing
I had ever before witnessed. I was then unable to account
for it, there being no apparent cause to excite such actions,
and the courage which I had acquired by long experience,
was almost failing me; but, being convinced that my only
safety was in the destruction of tliis terrible creature, I
levelled my piece, and fired, but at the instant the trigger
obeyed its impulse, the animal moved, and instead of kill-
ing, I only added fury to my antagonist. She then sprung
from the tree to a large limb of an adjoining black oak,
commenced lashing the smaller limbs with her claws, curl-
ing her tail, and darting fury from her eyes, sought the
object of her anger, on whom she might wreak her ven-
geance.

I found that my security consisted in keeping perfectly
quiet, and with much haste and trepidation, I succeeded in

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

re-loading my rifle; this quieted my fears, and I gained my
usual confidence. By tliis time tlie panther, WTithing un-
der the effect of the wound, yelled more terrible, if possible,
than before, and seemed actuated solely by the spirit of the
infernal regions, commenced springing on the rocks, then
on some tree, but fortunately, always in that situation as to
keep the tree behind which I stood, between us ; the last
leap, however, that she made, was in the fork of a tree about
fifteen yards from me, which completely uncovered me to
the full view of this enraged monster.

Whether the animal at the discovery, became daunted, or
enjoying the self satisfaction of having her enemy within
her reach, and thereby paused in order to glut her eyes
more fully, preparatory to the destruction of her prey, or
before she made her final leap, is impossible for me to
divine; but, providentiallj' forme, it was thus, for this aw-
ful moment of silence and hesitancy, enabled me to shoot
the creature through the heart, and bring her lifeless at my
feet Unaccustomed to see this animal do thus, I was en-
deavouring to account for actions so extraordinary, in a
variety of causes; but, on wending my way to my habita-
tion, the mystery was solved. I overtook a hunter, who
had in his arms two young panthers, and it appeared that
this adventurous man had gone into the den of the mother,
and robbed her of her kittens; this being the case, it is easy
to account for the ferocity of the animal I had just killed,
and from whose vengeance, I thanked my stars I had so luck-
ily escaped. But my feelings towards the stranger were not
of the most pacific kind, arising from the reflection of my dan-
ger having been caused by his fool-hardiness, and I expressed
myself to him on the subject in strong terms to that effect.

The man, after hearing the story, turned pale and shud-
dered, not at any danger he was then in, but from that
which he had so fortunately escaped, for had the infuriated
mother returned at the period he was in the den, the cubs
he held in his arms, would, by the time I was conversing
with him, have been sucking his blood, for, from his own
tale, he could not have left the spot more than half an hour
previous to my arrival. M.

CHESAPEAKE DUCK SHOOTING.

The Chesapeake Bay and its tributary streams, has,
from its discovery, been known as the greatest resort of
water fowl in the United States. This has depended on
the profusion of their food, which is accessible on the im-
mense flats, or shoals that are found near the mouth of the
Susquehanna, the whole length of North-East and Elk
rivers, and on the shores of the bay and connecting streams,
as far south as York and James rivers.
L

The quantity of fowl of late years, has been decided-
ly less than in times gone by; and the writer has met
with persons who have assured him, the number has
decreased one half in the last fifteen years. This change
has arisen, most probably, from the vast increase in the
destruction from the greater number of persons who now
make a business or pleasure of this sport; as well as the
constant disturbance they meet with on many of their feed-
ing grounds, which induces them to distribute themselves
more widely, and forsake their usual haunts.

As early as the first and second week in October, the
smaller Ducks, as the Buffel head, (anas albeola,) South
southerly, (a. glacialis,) and the Ruddy, or Heavy tailed
duck, (a. rubidus,) &c. begin to show themselves in the
upper part of the bay, and by the last of the month, the
Black head, (a. marila,) Widgeon, or Bald pate, (a.
Americana,) Red head, (a. ferina,) and the Goose, (a.
Canadensis,) appear, and rapidly distribute themselves
down the bay. The Canvass back, (a. valisineria,) and
the Swan (a. cygnus,) rarely, unless the weather to
the north has been severe, appear in quantities till the
middle of November. All these fowl, when first arrived,
are thin and tasteless, from their privation during their mi-
gration, and perhaps preparatory arrangements, and require
some days at least, of undisturbed repose, to give them that
peculiai- flavour, for which some of them are so celebrated.
During the low tides succeeding their arrival, the birds sit
on the flats far from the shores, and rarely rise to the wing
unless disturbed; but when the spring tides render the
water too deep for feeding, they commence their career,
and pass down the bay in the morning, and return in the
evening. Most of these fowl feed on the same grass,
which grows abundantly on the shallows in the bay and
adjacent waters, and has been called Duck-grass, (Vaxis-
NERiA ,imericana. )

It grows from six to eighteen inches in length, and is
readily pulled up by the root. Persons who have closely
observed these Ducks while feeding, say, that the Canvass
back, and Black head, dive and pull the grass from the
ground, and feed on the roots, and the Red head, and Bald
pate then consume the leaves. Indeed, although the Bald
pate is a much smaller bird than the Canvass back, they
have been seen to rob the latter, immediately on their re-
turn from under the water, of all their spoil.

All these larger Ducks are found together when feeding,
but separate when on the wing. That they feed on the
same grass, is evident, from the similarity of flavour, and
those most accustomed to the article, have a difficulty in
deciding on the kind of Duck from the taste. Indeed, the
Bald pate is generally preferred by residents. Whilst
speaking of flavour, I will remark, that the Swan under

42

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

five years of age, is probably the most luscious of all water
fowl. It possesses the taste of the Goose, but more concen-
trated, and is far more tender; and I have known persons
nauseated by the extreme sweetness of the flesh. The
length of time this bird can be preserved untainted is re-
markable, having seen one of them still perfectly sweet
four weeks after his death, and without any means having
been employed, other than an exposure to the air during
the time, most of which had been wet and warm. The age
of the Swan may be known by the colour of the feathers,
&c., the yearling being of a deep leaden tint, with a deli-
cate red bill; the second year, he is of a lighter colour,
with a white bill; the third season, his bill has become a
jet black, but about one third of the plumage is still tipped
with grey, and till he is five years of age, an occasional
feather will present the tint of 3-outh. As they live perhaps
to one hundred years or more, they become exceedingly
tough and tasteless, and flying, as they generally do, in lines
of from three to eight with a patriarch at the head, the lead-
ing Swan is usually passed and the followers chosen.
These elders have a note remarkably resembling, at a dis-
tance, the common tin trumpet, and the intensity of their
inharmonious scream is decreased by youth.

" The lasl sweet notes of the expiring Swan"

are as unknown in the Chesapeake, as

"Memnon's music which at sun rise play'd."

When more than one person are shooting, it is usual for
each to name which Swan he will aim at, and if there be
not enough for all, two will take a particularly good bird,
and if it be killed, will decide its possession afterwards, by
some play of chance. Few are willing to take the first
bird, even though their position of last in the direction of
flight, would compel them according to usage, to do so, not
only from the difficulty and uselessness of killing the old
ones, but there is much less chance of a stray shot from a
neighbour's gun assisting in the destruction.

In the autumn of 1829, the writer with another person,
was on Abby Island, when seven Swans were approaching
the point in one line, and three others a short distance be-
hind them. The small group appeared exceeding anxious
to pass the larger, and as they doubled the point at about
sixty yards distance, the three formed with the second bird
of the larger flock, a square of probably less than three feet.
At this moment both guns were discharged, and three
Swans were killed, and the fourth so much injured, that he
left the flock and reached the water a short distance in the
bay, but it being nearly dark, his direction was lost.
These, with another that had been killed within an hour,
and three which were subsequently obtained, were all of

less than five years of age, and averaged a weight of
eighteen pounds.

The Swans never leave the open shores of the bay for
the side streams, and the Geese rarely through the day,
though they often retire to the little inlets to roost or feed
at night. Few of these large game are found after their
regular settlement, above Spesutie Island, but lay on the
flats in mingled masses of from fifty to five hundred, down
the western shores, even as far as the Potomac. During a
still night, a few Swans may often be seen asleep in the
middle of the bay, surrounded by a group of far more
watchful Geese; and the writer was paddled at day break
one morning within ten feet of an enormous sleeping Swan,
who had probably depended for alarm on the wary Geese,
by which he had been surrounded, but which, as we ap-
proached had swam away. By an unforeseen occurrence,
when a few seconds would have enabled us to have stunned
him by a blow, he became alarmed, and started in a direc-
tion that prevented a probable chance of killing, from our
position, and tottering nature of the skiff.

The strength of these birds is so great, that if we had at-
tempted his capture without first disabling him, he would
doubtless have upset the boat; for it has been known that a
full grown Swan, and adults usually measure seven feet
from tip to tip, is more than equal in strength, in three
feet water, to a good sized man.

By the middle of December, particularly if the weather
has been a little severe, the fowl of every kind has become
so fat, that I have seen Canvass back burst open in the
breast in falling on the water; and spending less time in
feeding, pass up and down the bay from river to river, in
their morning and evening flights, and give at certain locali-
ties, great opportunities for destruction. They pursue,
even in their short passages, very much the order of their
migratory movements, of the line or baseless triangle, and
when the wind blows on the points which may lie in their
course, the sportsman has great chances of success. These
points or courses of the Ducks, are materially affected by
the winds, for they avoid, if possible, an approach to the
shore, but when a strong breeze sets them on these pro-
jections of the land, they are compelled to pass within shot,
and often over the land itself

In the Susquehanna and Elk rivers, there are few of
these points for shooting, and success depends in those
places, in destroying them on their feeding grounds.
After leaving the eastern point at the mouth of the Susque-
hanna and Turkey Point, the western side of the Elk
river, which are both moderately good for flying shooting,
the first place of much celebrity is the narrows, between
Spesutie Island and the western shore. These narrows
are about three miles in length, and from three to five

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

hundred yards in breadth. By the middle of November,
the Canvass backs particularly, begin to feed in this passage,
and the entrance and out let, as well as many intermediate
spots, become very successful stations. A few miles fur-
ther down the western shore is Taylor's Island, which is
situated at the mouth of the Rumney, and Abby Island at
the mouth of Bush river, which are both celebrated for
Ducks, as well as Swans and Geese. These are the most
northerly points where large fowl are met with, and
projecting out between deep coves where immense numbers
of these birds feed, they possess great advantages. The
south point of Bush river, or Legoe's point, and Robbins'
and Rickett's points near Gunpowder river, are fruitful
localities. Immediately at the mouth of this river is situ-
ated Carroll's Island, which has long been known as a
great shooting ground, and is in the rentage of a company
at a high rate. Maxwell's point, as well as some others up
this and other rivers, and even further down the bay, are
good places, but less celebrated than those I have men-
tioned. Most of these points are let out as shooting
grounds to companies and individuals, and they are es-
teemed so valuable, that intruders are treated severely.

It has been ascertained, that disturbing the fowl on the
feeding flats, is followed in most cases, by their forsaking
those haunts, and seeking others ; hence, in the rivers
leading to the bay near flying points, they are never an-
noyed by boat shooting either by night or day, and al-
though the discharge of guns from the shore may arouse
them for a time, they soon return; whereas, a boat or sail
in chase a few times, will make them forsake a favourite
spot for days.

From the great number of Ducks that are seen in all di-
rections, one would suppose that there could be no doubt
of success at any of the points in their course of flight;
but whilst they have such correct vision as to distance, and
wide range of space, unless attending circumstances are
favorable, a sportsman may be da3-s without a promising
shot. For the western side of the bay, and it is there the
best grounds are found, the southerly winds are the most
favourable; and, if a high tide is attended by a smart frost
and mild south wind, or even calm morning, the number
of birds set in motion becomes inconceivable, and they ap-
proach the points so closely, that even a moderately good
shot, can procure from fifty to one hundred Ducks a day.
This has often occurred, and the author himself has seen
eight fat Canvass backs killed at one discharge into a flock,
from a small gun.

To a stranger visiting these waters, the innumerable
Ducks, feeding in beds of thousands, or filling the air with
their careering, with the great numbers of beautiful white
Swans resting near the shores, like banks of driven snow,

he would naturally suppose the facilities for their destruc-
tion were equal to their profusion, and with so large an
object in view, a sportsman could scarcely miss his aim.
But when he considers the great thickness of their cover-
ing, the velocity of their flight, the rapidity and duration
of their diving, and the great influence that circumstances of
wind and weather have on the chances of success, it be-
comes a matter of wonder how so many are destroyed.

The usual mode of taking these birds, has been, till re-
cently, by shooting from the points during the flight, or
from the land or boats on their feeding grounds, or by
toUng, as it is strangely termed, an operation by which the
Ducks are sometimes induced to approach within a few feet
of the shore, from a distance often of several hundred yards.
This process, though it has been frequently described, may
not be uninteresting to repeat. A spot is usually selected
where the birds have not been much disturbed, and where
they feed at three or four hundred yards from, and can ap-
proach to within forty or fift}^ yards of the shore, as they
will never come nearer than they can swim freely. The
higher the tides and calmer the day, the better, for they
feed closer to the shores and see more distinctly. Most
persons on these waters, have a race of small, white or
liver coloured dogs, which are familiarly called the toler
breed, but which appear to be the ordinary Poodle.

These dogs are extremely playful, and are taught to run
up and down the shore, in sight of the ducks, either by the
motion of the hand or by throwing chips from side to side.
They soon become perfectly acquainted with their business,
and as they discover the Ducks approaching them, make
their jumps less high till they almost crawl on the ground,
to prevent the birds discovering what tlie object of their
curiosity may be. This disposition to examine rarities,
has been taken advantage of, by using a red or black
handkerchief by day, and white by night, in toling, or
even by gently splashing the water on the shore. The
nearest Ducks soon notice tlie strange appearance, what-
ever the plan attempted, raise their heads, gaze intent-
ly for a moment, then push for the shore. The rest fol-
low suite, and the author has, on many occasions, seen
thousands of them swimming in a solid mass direct to the
object; and by removing the dog further into the grass,
they have been brought within fifteen feet of the bank.
When they have approached to about thirty or forty yards,
their curiosity is generally satisfied, when they swim
laterally up and down for a few seconds, and then retro-
gade to their old spot. Whilst presenting the side view, is
the moment to shoot, and forty or fifty Ducks have often
been killed by a small gun. The Blackheads toll the most
readily, then the Red heads, next the Canvass backs, and
the Bald pates rarely; and this, is the ratio of their approach

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY.

to the points in flying, although, if the Canvass hack has
determined on his direction, few circumstances will change
his course. The total absence of cover or precaution
against exposure to sight, or even a large fire, will not turn
these birds aside on such occasions.

In ^_ym^ shooting, the Bald pate is a great nuisance, for
they are so shy, that they not only avoid the points them-
selves, but by their whistling and confusion of flight at such
times, alarm others; and few days occur during the season,
without many maledictions on their very existence.

As simple as it may appear, to shoot with success into a
solid mass of Ducks sitting on the water at forty or fifty
yards distance, yet when you recollect, that you are placed
nearly level with the water, the object opposed to the
visual line, even though composed of hundreds, may be in
appearance but a foot or two in width. To give, therefore,
the best promise of success, old duckers recommend that
the nearest Duck should be in perfect relief above the
sight, whatever the size of the column, to avoid the com-
mon result of over-shooting. The correctness of this prin-
ciple was illustrated to the writer, in an instance in which
he had toled to within a space between forty and seventy
yards of the shore, a bed of certainly hundreds of Ducks.
Twenty yards beyond the outside birds of the solid mass,
were five Black heads, one of which was alone killed out of
the whole number, by a deliberate aim into the middle of the
large flock from a rest, by a heavy, well proved Duck gun.

Before I leave the subject of sitting shooting, I will
mention an occurrence that took place on Bush river, a
few years since. A man whose house was situated near
the bank, on rising early one morning, observed the river
had frozen except an open space of ten or twelve feet in
diameter, at about eighty yards from the shore nearly op-
posite his house. The spot was full of Ducks, and with a
heavy gun he fired into it; many were killed, and those
that flew soon returned, and were again and again shot at,
till fearful he was injuring those already his own, he
ceased the massacre, and brought on shore ninety-two
Ducks, most of which were Canvass backs..

The writer, three years since, had the use of a dog of
the above species who had never, from his extreme youth,
been taught, and the fourth or fifth attempt that was made at
toling, as the Ducks neared him, he retired into the grass,
stooped, and when he supposed they were within shot, im-
mediately ceased his play, and at the sound of the click in
cocking, laid flat down that he might be out of danger.
This manoeuvre was observed frequently afterwards, and
when he supposed the Ducks sufficiently near, no induce-
ments could make him play.

To prevent them running in, whilst toling, these dogs
are not allowed to go into the water to bring out the

Ducks, but another breed of large dogs of the Newfound-
land and water spaniel mixture are employed. These ani-
mals, whilst toling is in progression, or at a point, take ap-
parently as much interest in success, as the sportsman him-
self. During a flight, their eyes are incessantly occupied
in watching the direction from whence the birds come, and
I have frequently seen them indicate by their manner, the
approach of a flock so distant, that the human eye would
have overlooked it. As the Ducks come on, the dog lays
down, but still closely observing them, and the moment
the discharge occurs, jumps up to see the effect. If a Duck
falls dead, they plunge in to bring it; but many of them
wait to see how he falls, and whether he swims, and they
seem to be as aware as the gunner, of the improbability
of capture, and will not make the attempt, knowing, from
experience, that a bird merely tvinged will generally save
himself by swimming and diving. These dogs usually
bring one Duck at a time out of the water; but a real New-
foundland, who was with the author and his company this
autumn, was seen on several occasions to swim twenty
yards further, and take a second in the mouth to carry on
shore. The indefatigability and ambition of these animals
is remarkable, and a gentleman informed the author he
had known his dog bring, in the space of one hour, twenty
Canvass backs and three Swans from the water, when the
weather was so severe that the animal was covered with
icicles, and to prevent him freezing, he took his own great
coat to envelop the dog during the time. Some dogs will
dive a considerable distance after a Duck, but a crippled
Canvass back, or Black liead, will swim so far under the
water, that they can rarely be caught by the dog ; and it often
has been observed, that the moment one of these Ducks,
if merely winged, reaches the surface, he passes under, and
however calm, cannot be seen again. To give an idea of
the extreme rapidity with which a Duck can dive, I will
relate an occurrence which was noticed by myself, and a
similar one took place to another of the party the same
day. A male South southerly was shot at in the water by
a percussion gun, and after escaping the shot by diving,
commenced his flight, and when about forty yards from the
boat, he had acquired an elevation of a foot or more from
the surface. A second percussion gun was discharged, and
he dived from the wing at the flash, and though the spot of
entrance was covered by the shot, he soon arose unharmed
and flew.

Canvass backs when wounded, on the streams near the
bay, instantly direct their course for it, where they nestle
among the grass on the shores till cured, or destroyed by
eagles, hawks, gulls, foxes, or other vermin that are con-
stantly on the search; and if a dead Canvass back be not
soon secured, he becomes a prey to the gulls, who rarely

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

touch any other kind, so refined is their taste. I have seen
severe contests take place betvi^een crippled Canvass backs
and gulls, and although a pounce or two generally prevents
further resistance, sometimes they are driven off. If the
bird is remarkably savoury, the gull makes such a noise,
that others are soon collected, vphen possession is determined
by courage or strength.

Another mode of taking Ducks, consists in placing
gilling nets under water on the feeding grounds, and when
they dive for food, their head and wings become entangled
in the meshes, and they are drowned. This plan, though
successful at first, soon drives the birds from these places;
and in some cases, a few applications has entirely prevented
their return for some weeks. Paddling upon them in the
night, or day, produces the same effect; and although prac-
tised to some extent on Bush river, is highly disapproved
of by persons shooting from points. For the last three
j'ears, a man has been occupied on this stream with a gun
of great size fixed on a swivel in a boat, and the destruction
of game on their feeding flats has been imitiense; but so un-
popular is the plan, that many schemes have been privately
proposed of destroying his boat and gun, and he has been
fired at with ball so often, that his expeditions are at pre-
sent confined to the night. Sailing with a stifi" breeze
upon the Geese and Swans, or throwing rifle balls from
the shore into their beds, is sometimes successful.

Moonlight Goose shooting has not been a general prac-
tice, but as these birds are in motion during light nights, they
could readily be brought within range by " honking" them
when fl3'ing. This sound is very perfectly imitated at Egg
Harbour; and I have seen Geese drawn at a right angle from
their course by this note. They can indeed be made to
hover over the spot, and if a captive bird was employed,
the success would become certain.

Stool Ducks are little known, and from the very partial
success in their employment the last fall bj^ the writer and
his company, their usefulness seems very problematical.

The art of shooting a Duck, is one difficult to acquire,
the exceeding rapidity of their flight, rendering it necessary
to direct the gun in advance, in proportion to their distance.

It has been pretty well ascertained, that with a moderate
wind, most of these birds can fly at the rate of a mile in a
minute, or eighty-eight feet in a second; and, as no doubt
an appreciable interval must elapse from the passage of the
load from the barrel, till it reaches the object, in a distance
of one hundred yards, an idea can be formed of the neces-
sity of an allowance for flight. This interval is so distinct,
that on most occasions the shot can be heard to strike, even
at moderate distances, and when the result is fatal. Under
ordinary circumstances, at forty yards the head is gene-
rally aimed at; and at sixty, from six inches to a foot is
M

given; but, with a stifi" breeze to help them, even three or
four feet becomes necessary. With Swan at sixty yards,
the head is still aimed at, but the neck prolongs that part
to two feet in advance of the body. None of these birds
should be shot at, when advancing, for the thickness of the
covering of the breast, as well as its rotunditj', diminish
the chance of success; but experienced Duck shooters allow
the bird to pass by them entirely, and then the shot strikes
on a flatter surface as under the wing, and also passes in
with the direction of the feathers. The same latitude of
advance need not be allowed with the percussion gun, as
with the flint, from the more instantaneous discharge, and
this is one cause of failure in first use, and hence of the
prejudice old duckers have to these guns. They have also
conceived that a certain quantity of powder was necessary
to kill, and finding that this proportion produced great
recoil and uncertainty' of effect, have condemned the plan,
without ascertaining that less powder was really necessary,
from its more perfect combustion. Of the advantages of
the percussion over the common gun in this amusement,
where wet days are often the most successful, nothing need
be said as to the greater certainty of explosion; its merits
are so well known, that in two years there will probably be
few flint guns on the bay.

In this sport, it is all important to have guns that can
bear a heavy charge without recoil, as great weight in the
breech. Ordinary fowling pieces will not bear suflScient
loads, and unless the bore be large, with a proportionate
thickness of barrel, the large shot to be thrown, will not
kill at a long distance. The most useful proportion for a
double gun, is, weight of barrels from ten to eleven pounds;
length, forty-two inches ; calibre, thirteen-sixteenths of an
inch. This proportion has been ver}' accurately ascertain-
ed, not only by experiments in England, but even in our
own city; and within two years many such guns have ar-
rived, in which the employment has confirmed the princi-
ple. A few guns are in use, of a calibre of an inch and a
half, and a weight of forty pounds, to be moved on a swivel.
These have, on several occasions, killed eighty, or one
hundred birds at a time, but they are verj' unwieldy, and
only employed when the Ducks are sitting. The size of
shot best adapted to this sport, is still a disputed point; but
the writer, and many of his friends, have arrived at the con-
clusion, that BB is the best for Ducks, and the smallest
mould shot for Geese and Swan. The smaller the shot
is, the greater the chance of striking, from the increase
of the number of pellets; but unless it be of good size,
it will not enter the feathers, and Canvass backs are
so thickly covered, that smaller shot will rarely kill.
When on the water at a moderate distance. No. 1. shot
will be sufficiently large, and there being nearly double

46

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY.

the number of pellets, the birds struck will be in the same
ratio.

But, notwithstanding the apparent facilities that are offer-
ed of success, this amusement is probably one of the most
exposing to cold and wet, and those who undertake its en-
joyment without a courage " screwed to the sticking point,"
will soon discover that

" To one good, a thousand ills oppose."

It is indeed, no parlour sport, and between creeping
through mud and mire, often for hundreds of yards, to
be at last disappointed, and standing exposed on points to
the

" Felling rain, or more llian freezing cold,"

for hours without even the promise of a shot, it would even
try the patience of Franklin's glorious nibbler. It is,
however, replete with excitement and charm, and to one
who can enter on the pleasure, with a system formed for
polar cold, and a spirit to endure

" The weary toil of many a stormy day,"

it will yield a harvest of health and delight, that the "roam-
er of the woods" can rarely enjoy. I. T. S.

ADVICE TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN.

When young men first take the field in pursuit of
game, they are full of expectations, excited by the pros-
pects of enjoyment; and, possessing youth, health and ac-
tivity, seldom weigh the consequences of irregular habits,
or the evils resulting from not observing a proper course of
conduct, or the effect which the errors of their youth may
have on their future life. Under these views, I have sug-
gested the following advice:

In associating with companions for your hunting excur-
sions, choose, if possible, those who are calm in their mind,
and deliberate in their movements, and free from that blus-
tering spirit, which too often manifests itself in sportsmen.
You will thereby avoid much danger, and those accidents
which are mostly the effect of rashness and carelessness.

Shun the company of a man who is continually cursing
and swearing at his dogs, or on the slightest provocation,
especially if he is unsuccessful in his enterprise, for it com-
monly happens, that persons of these dispositions and
habits, do not subject themselves to restraint, and will find
excuse, no matter how trivial, to vend their anger, most
generally on their dogs, and attribute their want of success
to the error of these animals, when it originates altogether

in their own turbulent passions. Shun such contaminating
breath, as you would a contagious disease, that affects your
very vitals.

Never swear yourself, nor suffer any circumstance to
make you commit yourself in a way that you would con-
demn in others; neither permit the contingencies attending
hunting excursions, such as misbehaviour of your com-
panions, or dogs, to ruffle your disposition or excite anger;
if your companion claims a bird to which you are entitled,
or which has been shot on the discharge of both j'our guns,
compromise your feelings and let him have it, it is but a
bird, and not worth quarreling about; and, if he has been
unjust in his claim, he will be ashamed of it. Should your
dog commit error, chastise him, but keep yourself free
from rage. Observing these rules, you will be more fitted
for the pleasures of the field, more successful in your en-
terprise, and avoid many unpleasant feelings to yourself
and companions ; the labours of the day will end with
calmness and pleasure, unmixed with rancorous feelings,
and prove a period of recreation rather than toil. Choose
cool weather for your season of shooting, your body then
is more invigorated, and you will prevent considerable ex-
citement and occasion for fever, which is more likely to
attend warmer weather; beside, you perhaps can be better
spared from your business.

Do not let your excursions be marked with cruelty,
either towards your dogs, or the innocent objects of your
search ; let a moderate quantity of game suffice you always,
and be not ambitious to excel, when that superiority is to
be gained at the expense of much life, or labour ending in
great fatigue to yourself. Beware displaying your art by
shooting at harmless birds, such as swallows, robins, &c.
for it is not only useless as a plan of practising to shoot, but
cruel and disgraceful to him who employs it.

Disclaim all braggarts of shooting, and found )-our prin-
ciples on their failure, for I never yet saw a braggart, but
had to back his performances with heavy oaths. These,
generally, are the poorest shots, and most certainly the
worst companions; for the man w-ho makes a statement,
and endeavours to confirm it with an oath, is entirely un-
worthy of confidence and respect; beside, persons who
habituate themselves to this disgraceful and ungentlemanly
practice, engender feelings, which in their nature are not
only callous to truth, but to every sense of propriety; and
there is nothing too ridiculous or incredible, either for
them to relate as truth, or to be swallowed by them as such,
when related by others; this is strongly verified in an old
saying, "that it is even possible for a man to tell a lie so
often, as to believe it himself for truth." This principle is
more common amongst those who idle their time with a
gun, lounge about taverns and drink to excess, but who, in

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

47

the early stages of their career, might trace their decline to
a "flask of brandy," which they always provided for
their hunting excursions.

I would advise you, therefore, to drink no spirituous
liquors whatever, and discourage your friends from pro-
viding a flask of brandy, for you may rest assured that all
artificial stimulants of this nature, are never productive of
good, but injurious to the health and disposition of those
who use them, for they only excite but to enervate, and,
are oftentimes productive of broils between friends, wliich
frequently end in separation, and sometimes deadly strife.
The best allay for thirst, is from the fountain which nature
has provided, and by slaking your thirst with pure water,
you will be enabled to withstand the fatigues of the day
with more comfort both to j'our body and mind.

It argues much against those who make frequent applica-
tions of the bottle, or are stopping at every tavern to pro-
cure a drink of liquor; these misgivings and derelictions of
principle lead to further vice, and frequently bring the
sportsman to a state of degradation, and the exercise of
those habits which render him noxious to his family and
friends, and to himself a source of disgust, and sometimes
remorse.

To check these inroads of vice, the young sportsman, in
the commencement of his career, should mark out for his
future guidance, certain rules from which he ought never
depart; these rules should be founded on good principles,
and by strictly observing them, he will subject all his
pleasures to a proper sphere, tending much to sweeten life,
and rob it of many of the concomitant evils, with which
mortality is so replete. A celebrated writer justly ob-
serves, " that benevolence requires, that the pleasures of
sense should be made entirely subservient to health of body
and mind, so that each person may best fill his place in life;
best perform the several relative duties of it; and as far as
in him lies, prolong his days to their utmost period, free
from diseases and infirmities."

Thus, by viewing and forming all your gratifications as
subordinate steps to health, you may freely in this restrict-
ed sense, pursue the various modifications of pleasure, as
auxiliaries to the enjoyment of life; and by bridling 30ur
desires, and discriminating between licentiousness and
the moderate enjoyment of pleasure, and scrupulously
adhere to the latter, you will no doubt lessen the anx-
iety of indulgent fathers, or earnest solicitude of affec-
tionate mothers ; escape many of the pains and ills of life,
and pass down to a good old age, free from the keen retros-
pection of having prodigally wasted your early days in
cruelty, and the pursuit of those enjoyments, which for-
ever elude the grasp, and only excite hope, in order to
disappoint.

ANECDOTE OF A GREY FOX.

A FEW days smce, two gentlemen of Burlington coun-
ty, N, J. went out to hunt rabbits, each provided with a
gun, and but one dog. In a low bushy swamp, which
they had just entered, the dog came upon the form of a
Grey Fox. Reynard, of course, left his seat, and the
party went off in keen pursuit. After a chase of about
two miles, he entered a very dense thicket, composed prin-
cipally of underbush and twigs, and making a circuit of
this place, in order to deceive his enemies, returned to the
place from whence he was first started. On his way
thither, one of the persons (they had by this time sepa-
rated) shot at, and evidently struck him, as he made three
or four somersets, rolling himself into the form of a ball,
and fell; but, instantly recovering, he succeeded in reach-
ing the swamp, hunted closely by the dog, from whence he
was again routed by his industrious pursuer. He now
made for the thicket again, two miles off; chance threw
the other sportsman in his way, and the poor Fox fell
apparently dead at his very feet; but, ere the huntsman
could secure him, he was gone. The thicket now became
the scene of strife; Reynard played off his cunning full
two hours and a half, (part of which was by moonlight) but
it availed him nothing, as victory was decided in favour of
the indefatigable dog and his masters, and our friend Vul-
pes was sorely discomfited: he was carried home quite de-
funct as they thought, and thrown into a corner of the
room, the family sat down to supper; Reynard seeing all
busily engaged, ventured to reconnoitre, and had cautiously
raised himself on his fore legs, no doubt for this purpose,
but on finding himself observed, resumed his quiescent
state: one of the party, in order to ascertain whether the
Fox was really alive, or not, passed a piece of lighted
paper under his nose, but the inanimate log or stone ap-
peared not more senseless at that moment. Finding all
attempts to get off unavailing, he submitted to his destiny
with a very good grace, and next morning was as well as
ever, bating a slight wound in the shoulder, and a dirty
skin. Reynard, we understand, is to be kept in durance
until New Year, when he is to be again loosed for further
sport; but, humanity would certainly dictate his final en-
largement, especially as he exercised his cunning so ad-
mirably to deceive his captors: he ma}^, also, have suffered
death (in imagination) in its thousand forms, and, although
he may, in former days, have trespassed on some good
dame's poultry yard, and committed sundry other depre-
dations, such as stealing whole flocks of geese by floating
silently amongst, and drawing them one by one under
water, &c. &c. ; we still think, that humanity should trace
the discriminating line between cruelty and recreation,
and sufl'er the " sly intruder" to escape with his life.

Dec. 22, 1830. T.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

ANECDOTE OF A WILD GOOSE.

Captain S , of N. J., while lying at anchor with

his schooner, ofif 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, alighted about midway of
the hill, where some cattle were grazing; one of which,
seeing the stranger, and being unable exactly to make out
its character, walked up, as is commonly the case with
cattle, to smell it. The Goose, not fancying this kind of
introduction, and perhaps unacquainted with the motives of
the steer, seized him by the nose with so much firmness,
as to set the creature bellowing, and actually ran off a
considerable distance, before it could disengage this new
enemy from its hold. The Goose then made for the bay,
where it was chased by two boats from the schooner, and
after much diversion, and an hour and a half's labour, they
succeeded in capturing it.

wet, cold, and hungry, find the fire out, and the meal pre-
pared for you to consist of stale bread, beefsteak burnt up,
and pye with crust as tough as sole leather.

COMFORTS OF A SHOOTER.

After a long ride to your hunting ground, and find-
ing plenty of game, to be ordered off by the proprietor
after killing but one bird; or wandering a long distance, to
be overtaken by a heavy and continuous rain, or to be con-
fined to the house in consequence of a tremendous rain,
after having travelled the day before, many miles with a
view of having a good hunt.

To be in company with persons, whose dogs always
flush the game, when yours are at a stand ; or to have a
companion, who, the instant the dogs point, runs up and
flushes the game, before you get within shooting distance,
or (especially if you are a good shot, and himself an infe-
rior one) makes it his common practice to shoot at the same
bird with yourself, and claim it as having been killed by
him.

To have a companion, who, after shooting away all of
his powder and shot, kills but one bird, attributes the fault
to the gun, shot, or powder, and vends his angry feelings
on his dog; or, after hunting all day, without seeing game,
and towards evening the dogs come to a stand, expectation
on tip-toe, but on coming up, find it to be either a lark, or
where some partridges have been.

To be in company with a stranger who professes to be a
great shot, but on trial of his skill, proves him as likely to
shoot yourself or the dog, as the bird in a mistake; or, to
be intruded upon by some other sportsman, addicted to
cursing, swearing, and hallooing at his dogs, sufficient to
alarm a whole township.

Comforting yourself in your ill-success, with a prospect
of having a good supper; on your return to the tavern,

MISCEL.L,AXY.

A FRIEND from Pendleton furnishes us with the fol-
lowing item of sporting intelligence. A young gentleman
in Bath county, Mr. John Williams, recently killed two
large bucks, the horns of which were so interlocked that
they could not disengage themselves. There is no doubt
they had had a combat, and from observations which Mr.
W. made, he supposed they had been in this condition for
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 about one
hundred yards before he met a leaden death." — Staunton,
[f^a.) Sjjectator.

RETALIATION.
It is well known that in the good old days of our
fathers, when New England was truly the land of steady
habits, there would occasionally spring up a volatile and
fun-loving character, whose disposition and habits formed
a striking contrast with the upright and conscientious bear-
ing of the puritans. There were two farmers of this cast
who lived very near each other; one of them was the
owner of very fine sheep, but who, having a decided anti-
pathy to confinement would sometimes trespass on the en-
closure of their master's neighbour. The other having
caught them in one of these overt acts, determined to in-
flict summary vengeance on the intruders and their owner.
With this intent he proceeded to catch them, and running
his knife through one of their hind legs, between the ten-
don and the bone, immediately above the knee joint, put
the other leg through the hole. In this condition the
woolly flock decamped, leaving one quarter less tracks than
when they came. The feeder of sheep kept his own coun-
sel; and soon after, his neighbour's hogs having broken or
dug into his enclosures, he took advantage of this opportu-
nity for retaliation by cutting their mouths from ear to ear.
In this way the four footed grunters, rather chop fallen,
made their way to their own quarters. The owner of the
swine soon made his appearance in a great rage, declaring
his hogs were ruined, and that he would have redress. His
neighbour made answer, that it was he who ruined them,
" For, the fact is, friend, I didn't cut open them are hog's
mouths, but seeing my sheep running on three legs, they
split their mouths a laughing. "

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

49

NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.
C^NIS FAMILMRIS. VAR. SENSILIS.

[Plate v.]

Man exercises a more unlimited and singular sway
over the Dog, than over any other any other animal; this
is so complete that the whole species has become his pro-
perty, each individual of it being identified with his mas-
ter, whose orders, and even whose wishes, he is always
solicitous to execute; he adopts his manners, and surren-
ders his own feelings and propensities with cheerfulness
and alacrity, remaining faithful even under the severest
treatment; he calmly suffers and forgets the most cruel out-
rages, or only remembers them to increase his devotion;
and all this originates neither from necessity or constraint,
but appears to arise from innate feelings of gratitude, and
true friendship. The speed, strength, and scent of the
Dog, have constituted him a powerful ally of man against
other animals, and his services have, in all probability,
contributed in no slight degree to have reclaimed man from
the savage state, and induced him to adopt the pastoral, or
second grade of civilization.

In fact, it must be evident to every reflecting mind, that
without the aid of this faithful animal, man could never
have obtained the mastery he now holds over the rest of
creation. To conceive the importance of this acquisition,
let it be supposed that it had never been attained. With-
out the assistance of the Dog, how could man have attempt-
ed to reduce the other animals to a state of subjection? For
his own safety, and to constitute himself master of the ani-
mated world, it was absolutely necessary to form an alli-
ance with some of the animals themselves, and to conciliate
such as were capable of attachment and obedience, in order
to oppose them to such as were possessed of opposite quali-
ties. Hence, the domestication of the Dog seems to have
been almost coeval with the history of man in a social state,
and the result has been the conquest of the earth.

The generic characters of the Dog are, having the face
prolonged, and the naked, glandulous part of the nose more
or less rounded; the cheeks somewhat elevated, the tongue
smooth, and the ears erect, and pointed. This last charac-
ter, however, becomes altered by domestication. Fore
feet with five, and hinder feet with four toes, provided
with strong, slightly curved nails, which are not retractile,
as in the cats. The dental system in this genus is peculiar;
there are in all forty-two teeth, namely, twenty in the
upper jaw, and twenty-two in the lower, which are dis-
posed as follows: Incisors |, canine \z\, molars fif . The
incisors are placed on the same line, and are trilobed before
they have been much used. The canines are conical,
N

acute, and smooth. The superior molars arc six in num-
ber, on each side, viz. three small acute teeth or false cut-
ting molars, having a single lobe, a bicuspid or carnivo-
rous, and two small teeth with a flat crown. The inferior
molars are seven in number, on each side, viz. four false
molars, a carnivorous, and two tuberculous teeth. This
genus, as we have mentioned in a former number, includes
the domestic Dog, the fox, the wolf, and the jackal. All
the species are endowed with very acute senses, especially
that of smelling. They are carnivorous, even feeding on
flesh, when in a putrid state; more or less intelligent. The
generality of them unite in troops, for the purpose of taking
their prey, which they follow by the scent. Some species
live in burrows, but the greatest number inhabit woods and
thickets.

The specific characters of the domestic Dog, as given by
Desmarest, are; tail curved upwards in a greater or less
degree ; face more or less prolonged, or shortened ; hair
very various as to colour, though in almost every in-
stance where the tail is varied with white, this colour is
terminal. Linnaeus assigned as a character of this species,
that the tail inclined to the left side, but this, daily obser-
vation proves to be incorrect.

To dwell at greater length on the description or particu-
lar qualities of this well known animal, would be superflu-
ous. Instead, therefore, of entering into a detail of his
character and uses, we shall principally call the attention of
our readers to the diflerent opinions of naturalists, as res-
pects the original species, with a few instances of his saga-
city, attachment, and perseverance, as have occurred in the
course of our reading.

It must be obvious, even to the most unobservant, how
exceedingly Dogs difler, not only in their habits, faculties,
and propensities, but also in the form and proportions of
their bodies, the infinite and incessant mixture of races,
and the ramification of crosses, rendering it almost impos-
sible to enumerate each distinct breed or variety. This
however, has been attempted by several naturalists. The
first systematic arrangement of these animals, which we
have inet with, is that of Dr. Caius, who divides them into
three classes: 1. Those of a generous nature. 2. Farm
Dogs; and 3. Mongrels. After the time of this author,
numbers of classifications have been given, all- more or less
defective. Buffon has drawn up an elaborate genealogical
table to prove that all the varieties may be traced back to
the shepherd's dog, which he considers the original type,
from its great sagacity. In this table he not only attempts
to class the difierent varieties, but also to give an idea of
the mode in which they have been produced, by the influ-
ence of climate, and the commixture of breeds. It is con-
structed in the form of a geographical chart, so as to pre-

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

serve as much as possible the position of the different cli-
mates in which each variety is found. As has already been
mentioned, the shepherd's Dog is assumed as the starting
point. This variety, when transported into cold regions,
becomes ugly and small; though in Russia he still main-
tains his distinctive characters; in temperate climates, and
among perfectly civilised nations, he loses his savage air,
his erect ears, his rude long hair, and assumes the form of
the mastiff, bull dog, or hound, which latter is the most dis-
tant remove from the original stock. The hound, setter,
and terrier, are of the same race, according to Buffon, and
he states, that the same birth has produced all these varie-
ties. If the hound be transported to Spain or Barbary, it
will become either a spaniel or water Dog. The Irish grey-
hound, when taken to the north, is converted into the great
Danish Dog; and when transported to the south, becomes
the common greyhound. But it would be useless to pur-
sue the opinions of this beautiful but theoretical writer, to
a greater length, particularly as it is by no means proved
that the original stock was identical with the shepherd's
Dog.

Pennant has also given an arrangement of these animals,
which is tolerably correct, though it is still deficient in
rtiany particulars. The best which has been presented to
the world, is that of F. Cuvier, who has paid much atten-
tion to this intricate subject; this classification, which dif-
fers much from that of Buffon, has also been adopted by
Desmarest, and is as follows. He first divides them into
three groups; Matins, Spaniels, and Dogues.

I. Matins, or those Dogs having more or less elongated
head, the parietal bones approaching each other, and the
condyles of the lower jaw placed in a horizontal line with
the upper jaw teeth.

Var. A. New Holland Dog. C.f. Australasia. Desm.
Dingo. Shaw. Inhabits New Holland.

B. French Matin. C.f. laniarius. Linn. Matin,

Buffon. France.

C. Danish Dog. C. f. Danicus. Desm. Grand

Danois. Buffon.

D. Grey hound. C grains. Linn. Levrier, Buf-

fon. This variety is still further subdivided.

a. Irish grey hound.

b. Scotch grey hound.

c. Russian grey hound.

d. Italian grey hound.

e. Turkish grey hound.

In this group may also be placed the Mhanian Dog.

II. Spaniels, or Dogs having the head very moderately
elongated, the parietal bones do not approach each other
above the temples, but diverge and swell out so as to en-
large the forehead and cerebral cavity.

Var. E. Spaniel. C. f. extraritis. Linn. This also, is
divided into many subvarieties.
a. Small spaniel. Le petit epagneul. Bvffon.
h. King Charles's spaniel. C. brevipilis. Linn.
Le Gredin. Buffon.

c. Le Pyrame. Buffon. We have no Eng-

lish name for this Dog

d. Maltese Dog. C. melitaus. Bichon. Buff.

e. Lion Dog. C. leoninus. Linn.

f. Calabrian Dog. This variety is originally

from Spain, hence its English name.

F. Water spaniel. C. aquaticus. Linn. Grand

barbet. Buffon.

a. Small water spaniel. Petit barbet. BtrrFON.

b. Le Griffon. The intelligence of these Dogs

appears to be more suceptible of develop-
ment than in any of the other varieties.

G. Hound. C. f. gallicus. Linn. Chien cou-

rant. Buffon.
H. Pointer. C avicularius. Linn. Braque.

Buffon.
a. Dalmatian pointer. Braque de Bengal.

Buffon.
I. Turnspit. C. f. vertagus. Linn. Basset a

jambes droites. Buffon.

a. Crooked legged turnspit. Basset a jambes

torses. Buffon.

b. Chien burgos. Buffon.

K. Shepherd's Dog. C. f. domesticus. Linn.
L. Wolf Dog. C. pomeranus. Linn.
M. Siberian Dog. C. sibiricus. Linn.
N. Esquimaux Dog. C. f. borealis. Desm.
0. The Alco. C. / americanus. Linn. To this
group should also be added, the Alpine span-
iel, the Newfoundland Dog, the setter, and
the terrier.
III. Dogues, or Dogs having the muzzle more or less
shortened, the skull high; the frontal sinuses large; the
condyle of the lower jaw extending above the line of the
upper jaw teeth. The cranium is smaller than in the two
preceding groups.

Var. P. Bull Dog. C.f. molossus. Linn.
a. Thibet Dog.
Q. Mastiff. C. f anglicus. Linn.
R. Pug Dog. C.f. fricator. Linn. Le doguin.

Buffon.
S. Iceland Dog. C. f. islandicus. Linn.
T. Small Danish Dog. C. f. variegatus. Linn.
U. Bastard Pug. C. f. hybridus. Linn. Le

roquet. Buffon.
V. English Dog. C.f. britannicus. Desm.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Var. X. Artois Dog. Nearly approaching, and per-
haps derived from R., now extinct.
Y. Andalusian Dog. C. f. andalusia. Desm.

Chien de cayenne.
Z. Barbary Dog. C. f. segyptius. Linn. Chien
liD-c. BurroN.
It will be perceived, that this list only includes the well-
marked varieties; there are hundreds of others, of which it
is impossible to give any distinctive characters. Most of
these are termed Mongrels, and by the French, chiens
de rve.

When we consider even these varieties, it is evident, that
the modifications of the original species have been immense,
and that they have existed for so great a length of time, as
to render it almost impossible to come to any definite con-
clusion on the subject; since, however, the shape of the
head has attracted the attention of naturalists, it has been
found that some domesticated Dogs correspond in this part
of their configuration with the wild species much more than
others, rendering it more than probable, that they are all
collateral ramifications of the same original stock.

At the same time that this is admitted, it must be confess-
ed that the perplexities attendant on this intricate point,
although lessened, are by no means removed, for the ques-
tion immediately recurs, what is this original stock, or
primitive species ? Is it the shepherd's Dog, as supposed
by Bufibn; or, did it arise from a union between the seve-
ral species of the genus Canis; or finally, is it one or other
of these species, modified by domestication, and other con-
curring circumstances?

From some experiments, which appear to have been
conducted with great care, Bufibn is of opinion, as before
stated, that the wolf and the fox are widely different in
their natures from the Dog, and that their species are so
distinct and remote from each other, as to prevent any sex-
ual intercouse, at least, in a state of captivity, and observes
" that the Dog did not derive his origin from either the
wolf or the fox, and that those who regard these two ani-
mals as wild dogs, or vvho imagine the Dog to be a wolf or
fox become domesticated, have deceived themselves.

In this, however, BuflTon himself fell into an error, as
Pennant, Daniel, Pallas, and others, all bring proofs that
intercourse has taken place among the various species of
the Dog kind and their congenus, but also, that these occur-
rences are by no means uncommon. In a menagerie,
which was exhibited in 1S28, in England, were two ani-
mals, from a cross between the wolf and the domestic Dog,
which had been bred in that country. A similar circum-
stance is related by the celebrated John Hunter, in the
Philosophical Transactions for 1787, and he thinks that it
establishes the fact of the wolf and the Dog being of the

same species; and, on the same ground, deduces the iden-
tity of the Dog and the jackal. This idea is also held by
Pennant, who says, that the original stock of Dogs in the
old world, is derived from the above mentioned animals,
and that their tamed oflspring, crossed with each other and
with their parent stock, have gradually given rise to the
numerous forms and sizes of the canine race.

There is one great obstacle to the adoption of these opi-
nions, arising from the manner in which all varieties of the
Dog carry their tails, differing in this respect from all the
other species of the genus. Even the Esquimaux Dog,
which is in a half-reclaimed state, invariably carries his
tail turned upward, whilst in the wolf of the same district,
which he so closely resembles, it generally drops, espe-
cially when running. Dr. Richardson, however, states,
" that the latter practice (of curving the tail upwards) is not
totally unknown to the wolf; although that animal, when
under the observation of man, being generally apprehensive
of change, or on the watch, seldom displays this mark of
satisfaction. I have, however, seen a family of wolves play-
ing together, occasionally carry their tails curled upwards."

From a careful investigation of all the information we
have been able to attain on this point, the opinion of ButTon,
that the Dog is a separate and distinct species, appears the
most plausible, though whether the shepherd's dog was
the originial stock from which the numberless varieties
now existing are derived, is very problematical.

The wild dogs now found in various parts of the world,
all appear to have originated from some of the domestic
varieties, and to be easily reclaimable, never losing their
respect for the human species. In fact, these animals never
voluntarily separate themselves from man; even where they
have no individual masters, they still frequent his abode.
Thus they are found in this half-wild state in Lisbon, and
in most of the Asiatic cities. In Cuba and India, however,
they have partially assumed their native habits, hunting in
packs, attacking and overcoming much superior animals,
from their numbers.

The females go with young about sixty-three days, and
generally produce from three to five at a birth, though, in
some instances, the litters are much larger. The puppies
are born blind, the eye being closed with a membranous
substance, which, in about nine or ten days, is ruptured
by the action of the upper eye-lid. They also have their
muzzle short and full, even in the varieties having elon-
gated faces, as the greyhound; at the end of two months
they begin to display their character, and to grow rapidly.
In the fifth and sixth month they commence to shed their
teeth, which are replaced, as in man, with others, which
are never renewed. In the first months of their existence,
both sexes discharge their urine in squatting down, but

52

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

towards the end of a year the Dog raises his leg in perform-
ing this act. The duration of a Dog's life is usually about
fourteen or fifteen years, but they frequently suffer much
from the effects of age. It is said, that the probable age of
a Dog can be ascertained b}^ an examination of his teeth;
in the earlier 3'ears they are exceedingly white and sharp
pointed; but the farther he advances in life, the more they
become covered with calculous scales near the gums, dis-
coloured in all parts, and blunt and unequal at their points;
but a still more certain indication of age, is a gray and
hoary tinge above the nose to the eyes, and upon the front;
this begins to appear about the tenth or eleventh year, and
continues to increase till the last stage of life.

As we have already observed, the Dog is carnivorous;
he does not, however, eat every kind of animal food indis-
criminately. Thus, most of the water birds, which have
a strong fishy taste, are rejected by him, except when
urged by great hunger. He is possessed of such strong di-
gestive powers, as to derive nourishment from the hardest
bones. When flesh cannot be procured he will feed on fish,
fruits, succulent vegetables, and bread; and, indeed, in
those countries where dog's flesh is considered as a gastro-
nomic delicacy, he is wholly fed on vegetable food. The
Dog drinks by lapping up the water with his tongue; this
organ, also, is the only part of his body from which he
perspires, hence, whenever he is using any violent exer-
cise, it is suffered to loll out of the mouth. Before lying
down, he generally walks several times round the spot on
which he intends to repose. He sleeps but little, and sel-
dom profoundly, the slightest noise causing him to spring
up. During the time he is asleep, he frequently starts, or
has a tremulous motion in his limbs.

Besides the usual employment of Dogs in this country,
as guards, or for the chase, they are extensively used by
many nations to draw burdens, particularly among the in-
habitants of the northern parts of this continent; and the
weights they are capable of moving, especially over the
ice, are truly astonishing. Captain Lyon, to whom we
are indebted for an exceedingly interesting account of the
Esquimaux variety of this animal, says he has seen a Dog
draw one hundred and ninety-six pounds, the distance of
a mile, in eight minutes. But their use as beasts of draught
is not confined to these nations, the inhabitants of Holland
have long used them for this purpose, and nothing is more
common in Paris, than to see these animals dragging small
carts with vegetables and meat.

In some countries the flesh of the Dog is considered as a
great luxury; this is especially the case in China, and in
New Zealand. When used for this purpose, they are never
suffered to eat animal food, but are kept in cages, and fat-

tened with vegetables. They are killed by strangling, and
the extravasated blood is carefully collected, and also forms
a culinary delicacy. They grow very fat, and are allowed,
even by such of our countrymen as have tasted their flesh,
to be very palatable. But the taste for the flesh of these
quadrupeds is not confined to the Asiatic countries, some
of the Indian nations of this continent have the same taste.
We also find that the ancients considered the flesh of young
dogs to be excellent food. Hippocrates placed it on a foot-
ing with beef and mutton; the Romans, who were no slight
adepts in the gastronomic art, likewise admitted sucking
puppies among their delicacies.

Unfortunately, this sagacious and faithful animal is liable
to disease, which is communicable to almost all animals that
he may bite whilst labouring under it; the human species
appears to be peculiarly liable, under such circumstances,
to be inoculated with this horrible, and, alas! almost incu-
rable malady. As other temporary diseases are sometimes
mistaken for hydrophobia, we are induced to subjoin the
following account of the symptoms, as laid down in a work
on this disorder, by Chaussier and Orfila.

"When this disease is in its forming stage, a Dog is
sick, languid, and more dull than usual. He seeks retired
spots, remains in a corner, does not bark, but growls con-
tinually, at strangers, and refuses to eat or drink, without
any apparent cause. His motions are unsteady, resembling
those of a man almost asleep. At the end of three or four
days, he leaves his master's house, and roves about in all
directions; walking or running as if intoxicated, and has
frequent falls. His hair is bristled up, his eyes haggard,
fixed and sparkling; his head hangs down; his mouth is
open, and full of frothy saliva; his tongue is protruded,
and his tail hangs between his legs. He has, in most cases,
but not invariably, a horror of water, the aspect of which
seems to exasperate his sufl'erings. He experiences, at re-
peated intervals, transports of fury, and strives to bite
every object which presents itself, not even excepting his
own master, whom, in fact, he now scarcely recognizes.
At the end of about thirty-six hours he dies in convul-
sions."

There are few diseases in which quacks have more suc-
cessfully imposed on the credulity of mankind, or in which
even the best directed treatment has proved more ineffec-
tual. At one time, great reliance was placed in the Orms-
kirk remedy, which was superseded by a host of pretended
antidotes derived from the vegetable kingdom, and what is
extraordinary, from the most inert of these productions,
such as chickweed, anagalis, water plaintain, and the
skull-cap, none of which possess the slightest medical pro-
perties. Some persons rely on what is termed worming

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

a Dog, as a preventative to his being attacked with mad-
ness; this is absurd and utterly useless.'* The nature of our
work will not permit us to enter on this subject at greater
length, we must therefore refer such of our readers as wish
further information on the subject, to the treatise above
alluded to. There is one precaution, however, that should
always be borne in mind; that where a dog bites any per-
son, the animal should not be killed, but, should be se-
curely confined, that the fact of the madness may be posi-
tively ascertained.

The variety of Dog so well known under the name of
Newfoundland, has generally been considered by Natural-
ists as a mongrel, allied to the Esquimaux and Indian; but
this opinion is evidentl)^ erroneous, as he differs from those
varieties in the form of his head, and the general robust-
ness of his figure. When full bred and uncontaminated by
the blood of any inferior variety, he is certainly the most
imposing and noble of the canine race. Although, at first
sight, his great size and strength convey a sensation of fear,
the mild and expressive character of his countenance mani-
fests that ferocity is far from being a predominant or dis-
tinguishing trait of his character.

Extremely docile and affectionate, this Dog maj^ be
taught to perform actions which appear almost incredible,
and which, seemingly, require no slight exercise of the
reasoning faculties. Equally sagacious as persevering, he
never relinquishes an undertaking as long as there remains
the most distant hope of success. He seldom or ever offers
offence, but will not receive an insult or injury with im-
punity. The great pliability of his temper, peculiarly fits
him for the use of man, as he never shrinks from any task
that may be assigned him, but undertakes it with an ardour
proportioned to the difficulty of the execution. A full
sized Newfoundland Dog, from the nose to the end of the
tail, measures about six feet and a half, the length of the
tail being about two feet ; from one fore foot to the other
over the shoulders, three feet four inches; round the head
across the ears, two feet; round the upper part of the fore
leg, ten inches; length of the head, fourteen inches. The
feet are webbed, by which means he can swim with great
quickness and facility. The body is covered with long
shaggy hair; that on the legs and tail being very thick and

* As some of our readers may be unacquainled -nilh this operation, we sub-
join it. The worm, as it is termed, is the ligament which connects the tongue to
the under part of the mouth. The tongue is to be raised, and the skin which
covers the worm slit; a small awl is then to be introduced under the centre of it,
to raise it up ; the farther end will make its appearance by a little force being
used, and by being taken hold of with apiece of cloth, it may be easily removed.
Great care must be taken not to break it. This operation should be performed
at the time the pups are removed from the mother. It is said to prevent the Dog
from biting, if he should be affected with madness, and to have proved perfectly
efficacious in more than one instance; but this is at best but problematical.

long. This Dog is not remarkable for symmetry of pro-
portions, and his motions are heavy; consequentlj', he is
not distinguished for speed.

We are indebted to J. Browne Smith, Esq. for an op-
portunity of figuring this majestic animal, from a remarka-
bly fine and well marked specimen in his possession. The
Philadelphia Museum is also enriched by a well prepared
example of this Dog, which formerly belonged to Mr.
Wistar, of Germantown. Both these animals, though not
so large as the dimensions we have just given, afford excel-
lent criteria of the form and general proportions of the
animal.

The Newfoundland Dog is habitually used in its native
country, for the purposes of draught. They are easily
broken in, and soon inured to the trammels of harness;
three, four, or five are used in a sledge or other vehicle,
and will convey a load of some hundreds weight for many
miles with great ease. This, when once instructed in and
accustomed to the road, they will do without any super-
vision; and having delivered the load with which they
have been entrusted, will return to the residence of their
master, to receive their accustomed food, which generally
consists of fish, either fresh or in a dried state, of both of
which they are said to be extremely fond. Captain Brown*
states, that in ISIO, it was computed that there were up-
wards of two thousand of these Dogs, at and in the vici-
nity of St. John's, Newfoundland. They are left to shift
for themselves during the whole summer, and are not only
troublesome to the inhabitants, but become absolute nui-
sances, from starvation and disease. Contrary to their
natural disposition, where properly taken care of, under
these circumstances, they assemble in packs and prowl
about like wolves for their prey, destroying sheep, poultiy,
and every thing eatable within their reach. When the
fishing season is over, and their inhuman masters again re-
quire their services, they are reclaimed, and submit with
cheerfulness to the tasks which are assigned them. The
same author states, that this reclamation always gives rise to
much confusion and litigation, the value of these periodi-
cally deserted animals being estimated at from two to eight
pounds each.

In the year 1815, a dangerous disease resembling hydro-
phobia appeared among them, owing, as was generall}^
supposed, to the hardships and starvation to which they
were subjected. Persons bitten by them exhibited no
symptoms of hydrophobia; and the disease was attributed,
by the medical men of the island, to a fever induced by
severe labour with insufficient nourishment upon salted
food, and a scarcity of water, caused by the frozen state of

* Biographical Sketches and Authentic Anecdotes of Dogs, p. 198

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

all the streams. Even while it is plenty, their unfeeling
proprietors scarcely allow the exhausted animals time to
slake their thirst.

The qualifications of this Dog are not, however, confined
to drawing burdens; as a watch Dog he is far more intelli-
gent, and more to be depended on than the mastiff; and his
services on navigable rivers are unequalled by any other of
the species; he has even been broken in as a pointer, his
sagacity and docility rendering his training an easy task.

There are, however, some faults to which he is unfortu-
nately too prone; — he is a most implacable enemy to sheep;
when engaged in chase of a flock of these animals, he gene-
rally singles out one of them, and if not prevented, which
is no easy task, will never relinquish the pursuit until he
has attained and mastered his victim. He always aims at
the throat, but after having sucked the blood, leaves the
carcass. He is, also, but too often inclined to be jealous of
attentions paid by his master, either to other Dogs, or even
to children, of this disposition we are acquainted with
many instances.

The Newfoundland Dog in his native country, seldom
barks, and that, only when much provoked. His utter-
ance appears an unnatural exertion, producing a noise be-
tween a bark and a growl. His well known partiality for
water, in which he appears in his proper element, diving
and keeping beneath the surface for a considerable time,
need not be commented on. The generality of the Dogs
known under the name of Newfoundland, both in England
and this country, are only half bred.

We subjoin a few anecdotes of this animal, which we have
derived from the work above cited.

One of the magistrates of Harbour Grace had an animal
of this kind, which was in the habit of carrying a lantern
before his master at night, as steadily as the most attentive
servant could do; stopping short when he made a stop, and
proceeding when he saw him disposed to follow. If his
owner was from home, as soon as the lantern was fixed in
his mouth, and the command given, " Go fetch thy mas-
ter," he would immediately set off, and proceed directly to
the town, which lay at the distance of more than a mile
from his place of residence. When there, he stopped at
the door of every house, which he knew his master was in
the habit of fi-equenting, and laying down his lantern would
growl and beat at the door, making all the noise in his
power, until it was opened. If his owner was not there,
he would proceed farther in the same manner until he found
him. If he had accompanied him only once to a house,
this was sufficient to induce him to take that house in his
round.

Mr. Peter Macarthur informs me, says Capt. Brown,
that in the year 1821, when opposite to Falmouth, he was

at breakfast with a gentleman, when a large Newfoundland
Dog, all dripping with water, entered the room, and laid
a newspaper on the table. The gentleman informed the
party, that this Dog swam regularly across the ferry every
morning, went to the post office, and obtained the papers
of the day.

We might multiply these anecdotes, but the space allot-
ted to this subject will only permit to add the following:
we would, however, refer our readers to Capt. Brown's
work, as presenting the most astonishing and almost incre-
dible instances of sagacity in Dogs that have ever been
presented to the public.

A Mr. M'Intyre in Edinburgh, possesses a half-bred
Newfoundland Dog, of which the author, after relating
some extraordinary anecdotes, says, " A number of gen-
tlemen, well acquainted with Dandie, are daily in the habit
of giving him a penny, which he takes to a baker's shop
and purchases a roll. One of these gentlemen was accosted
by the Dog in expectation of his usual present. Mr. T.
said, I have not a penny with me to-day, but I have one at
home." On his return to his house, he heard a noise <at the
door, which was opened by the servant, when in sprang
Dandie to receive his penny. In a frolic, Mr. T. gave him
a bad one, which he, as usual, carried to the baker, but
was refused his bread. He immediately returned to Mr.
T.'s, knocked at the door, and when the servant opened it,
laid the penny at his feet, and walked off, seemingly with
the greatest contempt. Although Dandie, in general, makes
an immediate purchase of bread with the money he re-
ceives, yet the following circumstance clearly demonstrates
that he possesses more prudent foresight than many who
are reckoned rational beings. One Sunday, when it was
very unlikely that he could have received a present of
money, Dandie was observed to bring home a loaf. Mr.
M. being somewhat surprised at this, desired the servant
to search the room to see if any money could be found.
While she was engaged in this task, the Dog seemed quite
unconcerned till she approached the bed, when he ran to
her, and gently drew her back from it. Mr. M. then
secured the Dog, which kept struggling and growling,
while the servant went under the bed, where she found
7 1-2 pence, under a bit of cloth; after this he was fre-
quently observed to hide his money in a corner of a saw
pit, under the dust."

Notwithstanding the vigilance and watchfulness of this
animal, he, like most others of his species, is terrified at
the sight of a naked man. A tan-yard in Kilmarnock, in
Scotland, was robbed by a thief, who took this method of
overcoming the courage of a powerful Newfoundland Dog.
This terror of Dogs at the sight of persons without clothes,
arises from their being unaccustomed to such objects, and

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 55

it appears to pervade most animals. In Schipp's curious unwelcome neighbour to flight, this was by turning his back
memoir of his life, he mentions that a captain in East to the animal and looking at it through his legs. He de-
India Company's service, was out shooting in India, he clared, that the moment the tiger saw this strange attitude,
suddenly came on a large tiger, just as he had discharged he took to his heels, and was out of sight in a few mo-
his gun, he had no time to load again, but for a time stood ments.
his ground. At last he thought of a stratagem to put his

INSCRIPTION

MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.

BY LORD BYRON.

When some proud son of man returns to earth,

Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth.

The sculptur'd art exhausts the pomps of woe.

And storied urns record who rest below;

When all is done, upon the tomb is seen.

Not what he was, but what he should have been:

But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend.

The first to welcome, foremost to defend;

Whose honest heart is still his master's own.

Who labours, fights, lives, breathes, for him alone,

Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth,

Denied in Heaven the soul he held on earth:

While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven.

And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven I

Oh, man ! thou feeble tenant of an hour,

Debas'd by slavery, or corrupt by power.

Who knows thee well, must quit thee with disgust,

Degraded mass of animated dust!

Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,

Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!

By nature vile, ennobled but by name.

Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.

Ye! who, perchance, behold this simple Urn,

Pass on — it honours none you wish to mourn:

To mark a Friend's remains these stones arise,

I never knew but one, and here he lies.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

THE SLOTH.

From Walerton's Wanderings in South America.

Let us now turn our attention to the Sloth, whose
native liaunts have hitherto been so little known, and
probably little looked into. Those who have written on
this singular animal have remarked that he is in a perpe-
tual state of pain, that he is proverbially slow in his move-
ments, that he is a prisoner in space, and that as soon as
he has consumed all the leaves of the tree upon which he
had mounted, he rolls himself up in the form of a ball, and
then falls to the ground. This is not the case.

If the naturalists who have written the history of the
Sloth had gone into the wilds, in order to examine his
haunts and economy, they would not have drawn the fore-
going conclusions; they would have learned, that though
all other quadrupeds may be described while resting upon
the ground, the Sloth is an exception to this rule, and that
his history must be written while he is in the tree.

This singular animal is destined by nature to be pro-
duced, to live and to die in trees; and to do justice to him,
naturalists must examine him in this his upper element.
He is a scarce and solitary animal, and being good food,
he is never allowed to escape. He inhabits remote and
gloomy forests, where snakes take up their abode, and
where cruelly stinging ants and scorpions, and swamps,
and innumerable thorny shrubs and bushes, obstruct the
steps of civilized man. Were you to draw your own con-
clusions from the descriptions which have been given of
the Sloth, you would probably suspect, that no naturalist
has actually gone into the wilds with the fixed determina-
tion to find him out and examine his haunts, and see whe-
ther nature has committed any blunder in the formation of
this extraordinary creature, which appears to us so forlorn
and miserable, so ill put together, and so totally unfit to
enjoy the blessings which have been so bountifully given to
the rest of animated nature; for, as it has formerly been
remarked, he has no soles to his feet, and he is evidently
ill at ease when he tries to move on the ground, and then
it is that he looks up in your face with a countenance that
says, " Have pity on me, for I am in pain and sorrow."

It mostly happens that Indians and Negroes are the peo-
ple who catch the Sloth, and bring it to the white man:
hence it may be conjectured that the erroneous accounts we
have hitherto had of the Sloth, have not been penned down
with the slightest intention to mislead the reader, or give
him an exaggerated history, but that these errors have na-
turally arisen by examining the Sloth in those places where
nature never intended that he should be exhibited.

However, we are now in his own domain. Man but
little frequents these thick and noble forests, which extend

far and wide on every side of us. This, then, is the proper
place to go in quest of the Sloth. We will first take a near
view of him. By obtaining a knowledge of his anatomy,
we shall be enabled to account for his movements here-
after, when we see him in his proper haunts. His fore-
legs, or, more correctly speaking, his arms, are apparently
much too long, while his hind-legs are very short, and look
as if they could be bent almost to the shape of a corkscrew.
Both the fore and hind legs, by their form, and by the man-
ner in which they are joined to the body, are quite incapa-
citated from acting in a perpendicular direction, or in sup-
porting it on the earth, as the bodies of other quadrupeds
are supported, by their legs. Hence, when you place him
on the floor, his belly touches the ground. Now, granted,
that he supported himself on his legs like other animals,
nevertheless he would be in pain, for he has no soles to his
feet, and his claws are very sharp and long, and curved; so
that, were his body supported by his feet, it would be by
their extremities, just as your body would be were you to
throw yourself on all fours, and try to support it on the
ends of your toes and fingers — a trying position. Were the
floor of glass, or of a polished surface, the Sloth would actu-
ally be quite stationary; but as the ground is generally
rough, with little protuberances upon it, such as stones, or
roots of grass, &c., this just suits the Sloth, and he moves
his fore-legs in all directions, in order to find something to
lay hold of; and when he has succeeded, he pulls himself
forward, and is thus enabled to travel onwards, but at the
same time in so tardy and awkward a manner, as to acquire
him the name of Sloth.

Indeed, his looks and his gestures evidently betray his
uncomfortable situation; and as a sigh every now and then
escapes him, we may be entitled to conclude that he is actu-
ally in pain.

Some years ago I kept a Sloth in my room for several
months. I often took him out of the house, and placed
him upon the ground, in order to have an opportunity of
observing his motions. If the ground were rough, he
would pull himself forwards by means of his fore-legs, at a
pretty good pace; and he invariably shaped his course to-
wards 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 favourite abode was the back of a
chair; and after getting all his legs in a line upon the top-
most 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 Sloth, in its wild state, spends its whole life in the
trees, and never leaves them but through force, or by acci-
dent. An all-ruling Providence has ordered man to tread
on the surface of the earth, the eagle to soar in the expanse

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

of the skies, and the monkey and squirrel to inhabit the
trees: still these may change their relative situations with-
out feeling much inconvenience: but the Sloth is doomed
to spend his whole life in the trees; and, what is more ex-
traordinary, not upon the branches, like the squirrel and
the monkey, but under them. He moves suspended from
the branch, he rests suspended from it, and he sleeps sus-
pended from it. To enable him to do this, he must have a
very different formation from that of any other known
quadruped.

Hence, his seemingly bungled conformation is at once
accounted for; and in lieu of the Sloth leading a painful
life, and entailing a melancholy and miserable existence on
its progeny, it is but fair to surmise that it just enjoys life
as much as any other animal, and that its extraordinary
formation and singular habits are but further proofs to en-
gage us to admire the wonderful works of Omnipotence.

It must be observed, that the Sloth does not hang head-
downwards like the vampire. When asleep, he supports
himself from a branch parallel to the earth. He first seizes
the branch with one arm, and then with the other; and
after that, brings up both his legs, one by one, to the same
branch; so that all four are in a line: he seems perfectly at
rest in this position. Now, had he a tail, he would be at a
loss to know what to do with it in this position: were he to
draw it up within his legs, it would interfere with them;
and were he to let it hang down, it would become the sport
of the winds. Thus his deficiency of tail is a benefit to
him; it is merely an apology for a tail, scarcely exceeding
an inch and a half in length.

I observed, when he was climbing, he never used his
arms both together, but first one and then the other, and
so on alternately. Tliere is a singularity in his hair, dif-
ferent from that of all other animals, and, I believe, hith-
erto unnoticed by naturalists; his hair is thick and coarse
at the extremity, and gradually tapers to the root, where it
becomes fine as the finest spider's web. His fur has so
much the hue of the moss which grows on the branches of
the trees, that it is very difficult to make him out when he
is at rest.

The male of the three-toed Sloth has a longitudinal bar
of very fine black hair on his back, rather lower than the
shoulder-blades; on each side of this black bar there is a
space of yellow hair, equally fine; it has the appearance of
being pressed into the body, and looks exactly as if it had
been singed. If we examine the anatomy of his fore-legs,
we shall immediately perceive by their firm and muscular
texture, how very capable they are of supporting the pen-
dent weight of his body, both in climbing and at rest; and,
instead of pronouncing them a bungled composition, as a
celebrated naturalist has done, we shall consider them as
P

remarkably well calculated to perform their extraordinary
functions.

As the Sloth is an inhabitant of forests within the tro-
pics, where the trees touch each other in the greatest pro-
fusion, there seems to be no reason why he should confine
himself to one tree alone for food, and entirely strip it of
its leaves. During the many years I have ranged the
forests, I have never seen a tree in such a state of nudity;
indeed, I would hazard a conjecture, that, by the time the
animal had finished the last of the old leaves, there would
be a new crop on the part of the tree he had stripped first,
ready for him to begin again, so quick is the process of
vegetation in these countries.

There is a saying amongst the Indians, that when the
wind blows, the Sloth begins to travel. In calm weather
he remains tranquil, probably not liking to cling to the brit-
tle extremity of the branches, lest they should break with
him in passing from one tree to another; but as soon as the
wind rises, the brandies of the neighbouring trees become
interwoven, and then the Sloth seizes hold of them, and
pursues his journey in safety. There is seldom an entire
day of calm in these forests. The trade-wind generally
sets in about ten o'clock in the morning, and thus the Sloth
may set off after breakfast, and get a considerable way be-
fore dinner. He travels at a good round pace; and were
you to see him pass from tree to tree, as I have done, you
would never think of calling him a Sloth.

Thus, it would appear that the difTerent histories we have
of this quadruped are erroneous on two accounts: first,
that the writers of them, deterred by difficulties and local
annoyances, have not paid sufficient attention to him in his
native haunts; and secondly, they have described him in a
situation in which he was never intended by nature to cut
a figure; I mean on the ground. The Sloth is as much at
a loss to proceed on his journey upon a smooth and level
floor as a man would be who had to walk a mile in stilts
upon a line of feather beds.

One day, as we were crossing the Essequibo, I saw a
large two-toed Sloth on the ground upon the bank; how he
had got there nobody could tell: the Indian said he had
never surprised a Sloth in such a situation before: he would
hardly have come there to drink, for both above and below
the place, the branches of the trees touched the water, and
afibrded him an easy and safe access to it. Be this as it may,
though the trees were not above twenty yards from him,
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 got into a hobble to-day, thou
shalt not suffer for it: I'll take no advantage of thee in mis-

fortune; the forest is large enough both 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 have
another interview with man. So fare thee well." On
saying this, I took up a long stick which was lying there,
held it for liim to hook on, and then conveyed him to
a high and stately Mora. He ascended with wonderful
rapidity, and in about a minute he was almost at the top
of the tree. He now went off in a side direction, and
caught hold of the branch of a neighbouring tree; he then
proceeded towards the heart of the forest. I stood look-
ing on, lost in amazement at his singular mode of progress.
I followed him with my eye till the intervening branches
closed in betwixt us: and then I lost sight for ever of the
two-toed Sloth. I was going to add, that I never saw a
Sloth take to his heels in such earnest; but the expression
will not do, for the Sloth has no heels.

That which naturalists have advanced of his being so
tenacious of life, is perfectly true. I saw the heart of one
beat for half an hour after it was taken out of the body.
The wourali poison seems to be the only thing that will
kill it quickly. On reference to a former part of these wan-
derings, it will be seen that a poisoned arrow killed the
Sloth in about ten minutes.

So much for this harmless, unoffending animal. He
holds a conspicuous place in the catalogue of the animals of
the new world. Though naturalists have made no mention
of what follows, still it is not less true on that account.
The Sloth is the only quadruped known, which spends its
whole life from the branch of a tree, suspended by his feet.
I have paid uncommon attention to him in his native
haunts. The monkey and squirrel will seize a branch with
their fore feet, and pull themselves up, and rest or run upon
it; but the Sloth, after seizing it, still remains suspended,
and suspended moves along under the branch, till he can
lay hold of another. Whenever I have seen him in his
native woods, whether at rest, or asleep, or on his travels,
I have always observed that he was suspended from the
branch of a tree. When his form and anatomy are atten-
tively considered, it will appear evident that the Sloth can-
not be at ease in any situation, where his body is higher,
or above his feet. We will now take our leave of him.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE NATURAL HISTORY
OF THE CHAMELEON.

By ROBERT SPITTAL, Esq.
The singular habits of the Chameleon have ever ex-
cited popular astonishment, and from their peculiar inter-
est, claimed in a high degree the attention of the natural

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

historian; and though it be now some time since, through
his aid, many singular, but erroneous conclusions, con-
cerning the nature and habits of this animal, have been
dissipated, still we trust that the few remarks we intend to
make, from personal observation — having had two of these
animals in our possession for several months, some time
ago — will not be deemed unworthy of attention.

That the particular species to which our observations
apply, may be identified, we may mention that it is desig-
nated by Baron Cuvier, in his Regne Animal, " Le
Chameleon ordinaire." It is a native of Europe, Asia,
and Africa. Those in our possession were brought from
the south of Spain, and measured about five inches in length,
exclusive of the tail. On being touched, they conveyed an
impression of cold to the hand, and, like other cold-blooded
animals, were very sluggish in their motions; and, indeed,
we have frequently observed them remain in the same
posture, for liours together, firmly embracing the twig on
which they stood, with their toes, having at the same time,
the tail generally twisted around the same, or some adja-
cent twig.

When excited to motion, by the appearance of a fly, not
within the range of their power, or otherwise, they pro-
ceeded very slowly from branch to branch, moving first
one extremity, then another, at the same time securing
themselves by their tails ; and we have often observed
them trust entirely to this organ, when descending from
twig to twig, and sometimes been impressed with the simi-
larity between their motions and those of some of the
monkey tribes, having preliensile tails.

Sluggish though the Chameleon generally be, there are
particular organs which form eminent exceptions to this
general remark, and this is particularly the case with the
eyes. These organs, except when the animals were asleep,
were used with great alacrity: and it is no exaggeration to
say, that they were continually rolling in all directions,
with the singular peculiarity of each eye having an inde-
pendent motion, as mentioned by Cuvier and others. This
fact we have frequently observed ; and it was not an un-
common thing to see one eye directed upwards, and the
other downwards; or one backwards, and the other in an
opposite direction, at the same time. Thus, in a beautiful
manner, one function is made to compensate for the want
of another; for, though naturally sluggish in the motion of
its body generally, it enjoys a more extensive sphere of
vision than any other animal in similar circumstances; and
is thus enabled to discover its prey over a much larger
surface, than, did it not possess the extensive motion of its
eyes mentioned, it otherwise could.

They lived entirely upon insects, and these were tempted
to approach by besmearing the twigs in the cage with honey.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

59

On observing one — which was easily known by their keep-
ing one or both eyes stedfastly fixed on it for a short time —
the method of attack pursued was to the following effect.
They slowly moved towards their prej^, as if afraid to dis-
turb it; at the same time keeping their eyes firmly fixed
upon the insect until within a few inches of it, then on a
sudden darting forth the tongue, and as suddenly withdraw-
ing it, they secured their prey, which very voracious mas-
tication and deglutition soon disposed of.

The greatest distance to which we have observed the
tongue protuded, was about five inches, generally less,
never more. This organ, protruded by strong muscular
power, is, we believe, chiefly returned to the mouth by an
apparatus attached to its base, which acts by its resiliency,
in a somewhat similar way to the elasticity of a silk purse,
when drawn out, and suddenly let go. The better to ena-
ble them to seize their prey, the extremity of the tongue
folds up to a slight extent, somewhat like the extremity of
the proboscis of an elephant; and moreover the organ is
coated with an adhesive matter.

According to the quantity of air in the lungs, the lateral
dimensions of the Chameleon are more or less extended.
We have observed them more than an inch and a half in
breadth across the chest; sometimes, however, compressed
to less than half an inch; their usual bulk was the medium
between these.

That the change of colour has an intimate relation to the
bulk of the animal, or, in other words, to the quantity of
air in the lungs, there is every evidence; and we shall
now make a few remarks on that singular phenomenon,
stating the various changes of colour observed, and at the
same time the circumstances in which the animals were
placed at the moment. The usual colour observed during
the day, was a mixture of various shades of green, in irreg-
ular spots; towards the head, these, however, sometimes
assumed the form of stripes: sometimes these colours were
slightly mixed with yellowish patches, and at other times
with dark purple spots.

Such were their usual colours for the most part of the
day, while moving about, undisturbed in their cage, or
amongst the twigs of a plant, in the search of food. When
of the greenish hue mentioned, it was sometimes difficult to
discover them amongst the leaves; and indeed it seems
probable that this may be a provision of nature, to enable
the Chameleon to procure its food, which consists chiefly
of insects; and these, had the animal been of a colour more
distinct from that of its natural habitation, trees, might
have been deterred from approaching within a tangible dis-
tance.

At night, when asleep, the colour was of a yellow hue.
Being desirous to ascertain the effect of light on them,

while of that colour, we placed, for this purpose, a lighted
candle, about three or four inches from the side of one of
these animals, and allowed it to remain for a few minutes,
the effect of wiiich was, that light brown spots began to
appear, at irregular distances, on the side next the light.
These spots gradually deepened in colour, until they attain-
ed that of a dark brown. On the removal of the light to a
distance, the spots as gradually disappeared, and the animal
assumed its usual yellowish hue.

A similar effect took place on imitating a shower of rain,
by sprinkling water over the animals, but in a more rapid
manner than on the application of the light.

These two experiments we repeated several times, with
similar results; and we believe the appearance of these spots
to be owing to the irritation produced, in the first instance,
by the heat and light; in the second, by the mechanical
irritation of the water. The animals never awoke during
these experiments, except when the artificial rain was too
heavy, or continued for a long time.

Shortly after these animals came into our possession, one
of them escaped from the greenhouse in which they resided
for a time; and it was not until after a very diligent search,
that we discovered it amongst some long grass, of a colour
which surprised us much. It appeared at first sight to be
speckled black and white; on closer examination, however,
the dark colour was purple, the light apparently a pale yel-
low. These colours were in large irregular patches.

While of tliis hue, its dimensions were unusually small,
its sides were much compressed, and we may state gene-
rally, that when of a dark colour, they were usually in a
compressed state; for though in the case just mentioned
there was an approach to a white at some places, still the
dark colour was most profuse.

On one occasion, we remarked the effects of strong pas-
sion on these animals. Wishing to take one of them out of
the cage in which they were usually confined, and approach-
ing the hand towards it for that purpose, the animal
retreated for a little at first, then on a sudden turned
round and seized one of our fingers, without further mis-
chief, however, than slightly raising the cuticle. At this
moment the colour changed from the usual greenish mix-
ture to that of a yellowish grey, spotted over, at the
same time, with numerous red points, about the size of the
head of a pin, while the animal became more bulky than
we had ever seen it.

Some days before death, which took place, partly, in
consequence of the inclemency of the weather, but particu-
larly, we believe, in consequence of the want of food at the
time, the flies having nearly all disappeared, worms and
other small animals were rejected, they gradually be-
came weaker and weaker, left the twigs, and came to the

60

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

floor of the cage. While in this weak state, their colour
differed from any we ever observed them to assume while
in health. They became of the following hues, viz. yel-
low and purple. These colours were in large irregular
patches, and seemed gradually to brighten as the animals
became weaker, until on death they were brightest.

With regard to the transparent property of the body of
the Chameleon, we have only to say, that on one occasion,
we are tolerably sure that we observed the shadow of the
wires of the cage, during the bright sunshine, through the
body of one of them, while in a compressed state.

These remarks, we think, seem to show that the exist-
ing opinions, which attribute the change of colour to the
action of the lungs, as the chief cause, is correct; not we
believe entirely, however, owing to the change of colour
of the blood, according to the respiration, transmitted by
the skin; but conjointly, with its effects on the integu-
ments, rendering them more or less tense or flaccid; and
thus enabling the surface to reflect different ra3'S of light at
different times, according to the state of the integuments.

It is curious to observe the opinions of naturalists con-
cerning the change of colour in the Chameleon, and we
have here subjoined those of the authors we have consulted
on this point, in a tabular form.

AUTHORS.

Opinions concerning the causes of Change of Colour.

The change of colour takes place when the animal becomes infla-
ted.
Takes the colour of bodies which it approaehes» except i-ed and

From affections of the mind of animal.
Reflection.

disposition of parts that compose theskin giving a difFerentmo-

ification to rays of light.

skin reflecting colour of bodies a

1 violet ; change in conse
1 driven into skin at difien

itensity of the
e of different

Chang

hanges on exposure to sun ; colour seems to depend on s
I health, temperature, and other unknown causes.
iLiings render skin more or less transparent, and also chai
I colour of the blood according as inflated.
Perhaps from being seized with a kind of jaundice.
Not from colour of objects it approaches.
.From being very subject to jaundice.
|Frora exposure to sun, changes colour.
From objects on which they happen to be placed.
According to sutes of animal.
From exposure to sun.
Fear, anger, and heat.
Blood violet ; vessels and skin yellow ; hence upon quan

blood driven to skin depends colour.
According as blood is sent more or less rapidly in contact w

fresh air iuspii.ed.
According to their wants and passions, lungs render body n

less transparent, and force the blood more or less to fl

wards the skin ; that fluid coloured more or less brightly B

;.io. fn r...an,w.r of air uken into lungs.

From quantity of oxygen in lungs.

However, with the exception of a few, including Dr. Rus-
sell and Pliny, all seem to agree, that the colour of the
Chameleon does not depend on that of the body on which
it happens to be placed.

Dr. Russell drew his conclusions from observing, that
sometimes, while on a tree, the colour of the animal ap-
proached to that of the bark; and again, while on the
grass, after some time it became of a green hue. Now,
these two colours are the most usual, as far as our observa-
tion goes, which the Chameleon assumes, however situated.
Coincidences such as these however, we admit, are cer-
tainly liable to mislead, especially those, setting about an
inquiry of this nature, under the influence of a precon-
ceived theory. But indeed, Dr. Russell at the same time
admits, that the Chameleon does not always assume the
colour of the ground on which it is placed, and states, that,
when put into a box lined with black, it sometimes became
lighter in colour, and vice versa when put into a white one.
Another objection to this theory is, that the Chameleon re-
tains its hue for some time after removal from the spot
where it had become of any particular colour, which could
not be the case did it depend upon the colour of surround-
ing objects. This fact we have often noticed, and with the
exception of the somewhat ridiculous opinions of Linnaeus,
Hasselquist, and Kircher, most of the authors we have
quoted, either distinctly state, or from their observations on
this subject entitle us to infer, that the lungs are the principal
agents in the production of the change of colour, their ac-
tion being apparently modified by the temperature of the
air — light — passions or affections of the mind — state of
health — various wants — and perhaps other unknown causes.
Edin. Phil. Jour.

These quotations show that the opinions of naturalists on
this subject are very various, and even contradictory.

THE BLACK SWAN.
When the classical writers of antiquity spoke of the
Black Swan as a proverbial rarity, so improbable as almost
to be deemed impossible, little did they imagine that in
these latter da}'S a region would be discovered, nearly equal
in extent to the Roman empire even at the proudest period
of its greatness, in which their " rara avis" would be found
in as great abundance as the common wild Swan upon the
lakes of Europe. Such, however, has been one of the
least singular among the many strange and unexpected re-
sults of the discovery of the great southern continent of
New Holland.

The Black Swans are found as well in Van Diemen's
Land as in New South Whales and on the western coast of
New Holland. They are generally seen in flocks of eight
or nine together, floating on a lake; and when disturbed,
flying off like wild geese in a direct line one after the other.
They are said to be extremely shy, so as to render it difiicult
to approach within gunshot of them. — Menag. Zool. Soc.

'^

vn:

^:^

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

ROUGH BILLED PELICAN.
PELECJiNVS ERYTHRORYNCHOS.

[Plate VL]

P. erythrorynchos. Gmel. i. 571. No. 15. — P. trachy-
rynchos. Latham, index, 884. Phil. Trans, vol. 54,
419. — Rough billed Pelican. Lath. Synops. 6. p. 586.
Phu-adelphia Museum.

The Pelicans belong to the family of Totipalmes,
Cuv. which are distinguished by having their hind toe
united to the others by a continuous membrane, notwith-
standing which organization, they are almost the only web
footed birds which perch on trees. They almost all fly
well, and have short legs.

This genus, as instituted by Linnseus, comprehended all
of the palmated tribe, the base of whose bills are in a greater
or less degree destitute of feathers, and having the nostrils
placed in a groove running along the sides of the upper
mandible, with their aperture so small as scarcely to be
distinguished; and also, having a more or less dilated gul-
let, and a very small tongue. Under this definition were in-
cluded the Pelicans proper, the cormorants, gannets, &c.
The observations of more recent naturalists, however, have
shown the necessity of separating these birds into several
distinct genera, restricting that of Pelecanus to such as
are possessed of the following characteristics: ''Bill very
long, broad, stout, straight, much depressed; upper man-
dible convex at base, then plane, seamed on each side,
ridge distinct, ending in a compressed, robust, and strongly
hooked nail; lower broader, formed of two flexible cartila-
ginous branches united at tip, supporting a naked mem-
brane, capable of forming by distention a pouch of great
size, extending beyond the throat; edges of the upper man-
dible, plane internally, separated from the palate by two
longitudinal, approximated, sharp processes; palate cari-
nated, lower edges sharp; nostrils in the furrow, basal,
linear, longitudinal, hardly distinguishable; tongue cartila-
ginous, very small, obtuse and arcuated at tip. Head mo-
derate, face and cheeks naked ; eyes rather large ; neck
long, stoutisli; body massive. Feet nearly central, short,
robust; tibia naked below; tarsi shorter than the second
toe, stout, naked; middle toe longest, one third longer than
the outer; hind toe shortest, hardly half as long as the
middle one; connecting membrane broad, full, entire;
nails falculate; the middle one with its edges entire, or
pectinated. Wings moderate, ample ; second primary
longest ; secondaries reaching to the primaries. Tail
rounded of twenty feathers."*

The female is very similar in appearance to the male,

* C. L. Bonaparte. Synop. Birds of Ihe U. S.

Q

but the young differs greatly for a long time. They moult
annually, and have a short, thick, and close plumage.

The most remarkable peculiarity of these birds, is the
bag or pouch attached to the lower mandible. This bag,
when empty, the bird has the power of contracting into a
very small compass, and of wrinkling it up until it scarcely
hangs below the bill, though when fully extended, it is of
an enormous size; it may be considered as its crop, as it
serves all the purposes of that receptacle, and from being
placed at the commencement, instead of the termination of
the gullet, it enables them to retain food in it for a considera-
able time, without becoming altered. When in pursuit of
prey, the Pelican stows its spoils in this pouch, and when
it is full, retires to the shore to devour the fruits of its in-
dustry at leisure. In this manner also, the female carries
food for her young, and when disgorging it, presses the
bottom of the sac upon her breast, and thus discharges its
contents. This mode of procedure has, in all probability,
given rise to the poetic fable of her opening her breast, and
feeding her young on her own blood.

And like the kind life rendering Pelican,
Refresh them with my blood*

Except this opinion of the ancients was founded on the
circumstance we have alluded to, we cannot comprehend
how they could have attributed to this stupid bird, the admi-
rable qualities and maternal affections for which it was cele-
brated among them. When the membrane of which this
pouch is composed is carefully prepared, it becomes as soft
as silk, and is sometimes embroidered for work bags or
purses. It is also used for tobacco pouches and shot bags,
and among the negroes in the West Indies, it is thought
that slippers formed from it are an infallible remedy against
the gout; as well as convulsions in children.

These birds are said to be torpid and inactive to the last
degree, so that nothing can exceed their indolence but their
gluttony, and the powerful stimulus of hunger is necessary
to excite them to exertion. They however, fly well, and
can remain on the wing for a long time, hovering over the
surface of the sea at a considerable height, until they per-
ceive a fish near the surface, when they dart down with
great swiftness, and seldom fail in seizing it. They all
swim with equal celerity, and dive with adroitness. It is
also said by some authors,! that these birds unite in flocks
for the purpose of taking their prey, forming a circle,
and swimming towards its centre. W^hen they have con-
tracted the space sufficiently, at a certain signal they all
strike the water with their wings, thus frightening the fish
to such a degree, that they fall an easy prey to their insa-
tiable pursuers. These manceuvres take place during the

* Hamlet. Act4. Sc.5. t Descounilz Voyag-es, d'unnaluralisle.t.ii. p.i4l.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

morning and evening, as at these times the fish approach
the surface of the water.

At night, when their labours are over, and they have be-
come glutted with food, they retire some distance from the
shore, and remain perched on trees till the next day calls
for a renewal of their exertions. Here also they repose
during most part of the day, sitting in a solemn and awk-
ward posture, looking as if they were half asleep. Their
attitude is with the head resting upon the pouch, and this
closely applied to the breast. Thus they spend their life
between sleeping and eating, never breaking their repose
till the calls of hunger render it indispensably necessary to
fill their magazine for a fresh meal. Although their usual
and favourite food is fish, when this fails them, they satisfy
their appetite with reptiles and small quadrupeds.

The female lays from two to four eggs; some species
breeding on rocks near the water, making large deep nests,
lined with soft weeds, others constructing them in man-
grove and other trees overhanging the water. They are
affectionate parents, although, from their natural timidity,
they make but little resistance when robbed of their off-
spring. The young, when excluded from the shell, are fed
with fish that have been macerated for some time in the
pouch of the mother.

These birds are easily tamed, but they are useless and
disagreeable domestics, as their insatiable gluttony renders
it ditBcult to supply them with a sufficiency of food, and
their flesh is so unsavoury and rank, as never to be eaten
except from dire necessity; it is probable, however, that
they might be trained for the purposes of fishing, in the
same manner as the cormorant; indeed, one writer assures
us that he saw a Pelican in South America, that was under
such command, as to go off in the morning and return be-
fore night, with its pouch distended with prey, part of
which it was made to disgorge, and the remainder it was
permitted to retain as a reward. Clavigero, in his History
of Mexico, also states, that the Indians, in order to procure
a supply of fish without any trouble, break the wings of a
live Pelican, and after tying the bird to a tree, conceal
themselves near the place; the screams of the suffering bird
attract other Pelicans to the place, who, he says, throw up
a portion of the provisions from their pouch for their im-
prisoned companion; as soon as the savages perceive this
to be done, they rush to the spot, and after leaving a little
for the bird, carry off the remainder.

According to Faber, this bird is not destitute of other
qualifications. One was kept in the collection of the Duke
of Bavaria above forty years, which seemed to be possessed
of extraordinary sagacity. It was very fond of being in
the company of mankind, and appeared extravagantly at-
tached to musical sounds; if any one played on an instru-

ment, it would stand perfectly still, turn its ear towards the
sounds, and with its head stretched out seem to experience
great pleasure.

The Pelican attains great longevity: Gesner relates that
the emperor Maximilian had a tame one that lived above
eighty years, and always attended his army on their march.
Aldrovandus also mentions one of these birds, which was
kept at Mechlin, and was supposed to be fifty years old.

Pelicans are found in the warm and temperate regions
of the globe, and are generally to be seen in large flocks ;
in some places they are exceedingly numerous ; thus,
travellers assert that the lakes of India and Egj^pt, and
the rivers Nile and Stryman, when viewed from the
mountains, appear white with the vast flocks of these birds
that continually cover their surface.

These birds were early observed by mankind, for we
find them classed among those which were forbidden as
food to the Israelites as unclean, and are also alluded to in
the Psalms. It is difficult to determine whether the bird
spoken of by Aristotle, under the name of llfXixai,^ is
really the Pelican of modern writers or not, though this
seems to be the opinion of the French Academy. He says,
that this bird frequents the banks of rivers, and swallows
large quantities of shell fish, which, after having macerated
in a pouch or crop which precedes its stomach, disgorges
them to feed on the flesh, the heat having forced them to
open. Cicero, in his treatise on the nature of the gods, re-
peats this observation of tlie Greek naturalist, but calls the
bird Platalea, whilst Pliny gives it the name of Platea.
Buffon, in admitting that Aristotle had reference to the
Pelican, also observes, that his description of its habits does
not agree with those of our bird, being rather applicable to
the spoonbill. Pliny, however, does not confound them,
for, after describing the Platea, he gives a very good ac-
count of the Pelican under the name of Onoc?'atalus,f at
the same time, it should be noticed that both Cicero and
Pliny, in speaking of the Platea, differ from Aristotle, in
saying that the shell fish are received into the stomach of
the bird, whilst the latter, as we have already stated, ob-
serves that they are macerated in a pouch which precedes
the true stomach.

There is also considerable difficulty in determining the
species of this genus, some authors multiplying them to a
great extent, whilst others restrict them to two or three.
Thus Cuvier says there is no difference between the com-
mon Pelican, (P. onocratalus,) and the P. roseus, of
which Sonnerat states, that the manillensis is the young.
This has arisen in a great measure from the variations pro-
duced by age not having been sufficiently observed. It
may also arise from individuals of the same species, living

* Book ix. chap. 10. + Book x. chap. C6.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

in different countries, and hence not subject to the same
physical circumstances. This, it is well known, will not
only induce variations in colour, and size, but even in the
form and development of certain parts. At the same time
that we allow this, we agi-ee with Mr. Swainson, that too
much latitude has been given to the meaning of the word
variety, so that in its general acceptation, its definition be-
comes impossible; its true meaning is, an animal or other
production of nature, possessing one or more characters
which are changeable and uncertain, and which, conse-
quentlj-, will not serve as indications by which it may in-
fallibljr be distinguished from all others.

For the following account of the Rough billed Pelican,
we are indebted to Mr. T. Peale, whose well earned repu-
tation in natural history, requires no eulogy from us.

This bird is entirely white, with the exception of the
primaries and nine first secondaries, which are black, as are
likewise the next six, except on their external edge ; crest,
plumes of the breast and lesser wing coverts, with a faint
tinge of yellow. Plumes of the crest silky, and about four
inches in length; those of the neck very soft and pointed.
Tertials, coverts, and feathers of the breast and belly, long
and silk}-. Bill flesh coloured; pouch, orbits, legs and feet,
orange j-ellow; a blackish spot on the pouch near the extre-
mity of the bill, which assumes the appearance of inter-
rupted lines when this part is distended. Tail rounded,
consisting of twenty-two feathers, (in a specimen from the
Missouri, there were twenty-four). All the specimens we
have seen were destitute of the black spot on the bill, men-
tioned by Latham. Spurious wings, black; first and fifth
primaries equal, three intermediate feathers also equal, but
longer than the first and fifth; shafts white, those of the
secondaries black. Iris, dark brown. The dimensions of
a fine specimen were, length, five feet two and a half inches;
extent, seven feet nine and three quarter inches; bill, fif-
teen and a quarter inches; tarsus, four and a quarter; height
of rugosity on bill, two inches; weight, thirty pounds.

To such of our readers as have visited the estuaries of
the Florida coast, the demure and awkward attitude of this
bird must be perfectly familiar. In that portion of our
country, this species occurs in large flocks, but they are
also often to be seen along the shores of the Mississippi and
Missouri, imparting a peculiar character to the otherwise
solitary scene, their solemn and quiet demeanor being in
strict unison with the stillness of the uninhabited plains
which surround them. They do not, however, remain
throughout the whole year on our western waters, migra-
ting to the south during the autumn months, and returning
early in the spring. Specimens have been killed at Council
Bluffs as early as the 8th of April, some of which were of
great size, the pouch of one obtained by Mr. Peale, being

capable of containing upwards of four gallons of water,
although when empty, such was its elasticity, that it hung
but a few inches below the bill.

The individual from which our drawing was made, was
shot, with its companion, a few miles below Philadelphia,
and presented to the Museum by Mr. P. Brandt. These
birds very seldom occur so far north on the Atlantic coast,
the only other instance with which we are acquainted, were
a pair which were killed in New York harbour a few years
since. Latham, however, mentions that they are found in
Hudson's bay. On the western rivers they may be seen as
high as the 42d degi-ee.

They build in societies, and seldom are found except in
flocks. On the mangrove islands in Musquito river, East
Florida, both the present species and the brown (P. /iisciis.)
breed in vast numbers, but alwaj's select separate islands.
Mr. Peale visited some of these spots during the winter, and
although not the breeding season, found that they still col-
lected in great numbers every night, for the purpose of
roosting, apparently arriving from great distances and
evincing strong attachment to the place of their birth. The
mangroves were covered with the remains of old nests;
these were principally composed of sticks, and several
nests were to be seen in the same tree, generally at about
eight to ten feet from the ground. We have no precise
information as to the eggs, but believe that they are two in
number, and of a white colour. In the months of June and
July, the inhabitants of the surrounding country collect
great numbers of the j-oung birds, before the)'' are able to
fly, for the sake of the oil they afford ; this is said to burn
freely, and to furnish a clear light. When flocks of these
birds ai-e disturbed they rise in much confusion, but soon
form in regular order, usually flying in long lines, though
sometimes in a triangle like geese, with their long bills rest-
ing on their breasts, in the manner represented in our plate.

C. L. Bonaparte has confounded this bird with the fus-
cus, from which, however, it appears to be very distinct,
both in appearance and habits. The adult bird of the brown
Pelican is blackish-ash, back and wings hoary; crown yel-
lowish; neck deep chesnut, margined on each side with
white. Middle nail serrated internall}^ In the species
under consideration, the whole plumage is white, with
the exceptions we have already noticed. The nail of the
middle toe is smooth. In fact we should be more inclined
to consider it as a variety of the onocrotalus than of the
fuscus. But it differs from both these in its habits. The
latter soar over the water and take their prey by plunging,
whilst the Rough billed obtains its food in swimming, scoop-
ing up mullets and other fish as with a net; it also occurs
along rivers far in the interior, the other species being
almost exclusively confined to the coast.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

SKATING.

The present winter has afforded ample opportunity
for indulgence in this delightful exercise. The Delaware
has been fast bound for nearly a month, with a clear and
extensive sheet of ice, upon which many of our citizens
have displayed their skill in the art. Skating is both a
manly and innocent amusement: it recommends itself in
such a variety of pleasing shapes as to be diligently pursued
by the young, and much talked of by the old: its remines-
censes are of a character every way agreeable to the mind,
and gratifying to the heart, and it may well be ranked
among the noblest of pastimes.

The art of Skating is of comparatively modern introduc-
tion. It can only be traced to Holland, and seems to have
been entirely unknown to the ancients. Some traces of
the exercise in England, are to be found in the thirteenth
century, at which period, according to Fitz-Steven, it was
customary, in the winter when the ice would bear them,
for the citizens of London to fasten tlie leg bones of ani-
mals under the soles of their feet, and then by poles push
themselves along upon the ice. The wooden skates shod
with iron or steel, were brought into England from the
low countries. With the Hollanders, Skating is more a
matter of business than pleasure, for it is said, that the pro-
duce of their farms is carried upon the heads of their men
and women, to the towns and cities upon the borders of the
canals, there to be sold, and articles of convenience and
luxury purchased, and taken back in like manner to the
country. Less attention is therefore paid by them to
graceful and elegant movements, than to the acquirement
of that speed wliich is necessary to what it is termed jour-
ney skating, as long and rapid excursions are frequently

made upon the ice, when the streams, natural and artificial,
by which their country is intersected, are frozen over.

Great improvement in the style of Skating has taken
place within a few years past, and various figures practised,
to which the earliest skaters were strangers. The forward
and backward movements, commonlj', but as it is thought,
improperly called High Dutch, show more ease and grace
than any others within the range of the Skates; they require
very little exertion, and if rightly performed, carry the
Skater over the ice with amazing rapidity. In the former,
the lower limbs should not be permitted to stride much —
the swinging foot should alwa3's be brought down nearly
parallel with the other, when about to receive the weight
of the body, and at the same time, the body should incline
to that side a little to the front, making an angle of about
seventy degrees; in this position, the foot having hold of
the ice will aid the inclination of the body in making a
bold and lengthy curve, as also, a handsome sweeping
motion. In the latter, or backward High Dutch, the
swinging limb must always act as a balance to the body,
and by it a perfect command of the necessary motions ac-
quired; the limb should move in a line with the body kept
nearly straight, and the toes pointed downward. In all
forward, circular, and sweeping movements, the body
should be kept as erect as possible, and stooping of the
neck, head, and shoulders avoided. The Skater should
never look at his feet, and seldom throw out his arms.

In graceful Skating, very little muscular exertion is re-
quired. The impelling motion should proceed from the
mechanical impulse of the body thrown into such a position
as to regulate the stroke. Chasinc;, running, and jumping,
tend to give an imperfect idea of the art, and produce habits
that are excessively difficult to break. Both feet should be

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

used alike — when a movement is performed by the one, it
should be tried by the other. Too much Skating on the
inside of the Skate prevents the acquirement of the more
beautiful part of the art, resulting from the frequent and
alternate use of the outer edge of each iron. Skating on the
outer edge, being the most graceful action, is the most diffi-
cult to perform, and requires much practice and great skill.
The beautiful attitudes in which the body may be placed
where the Skater has a perfect command of his balance,
will amply repay him for any care he may have bestowed
on the acquirement of this most fascinating part of the ex-
ercise. It is scarcely possible, however, to reduce the art
to any thing like a system. The best way to acquire a
knowledge of it, is to begin when young, and select some
good Skater as a pattern.

Although it is asserted, by some modern writers, that
the metropolis of Scotland has produced more instances of
elegant Skaters, than any other city whatever, the opinion
seems to be, that Philadelphia, in this particular, stands un-
rivalled. The frequent facilities offered by the freezing of
her noble rivers, must be borne in mind. There is scarcely
a winter, in which Skating is not practised by a large por-
tion of her population for weeks together, and the climate
is of so fluctuating a character, as to prevent any very long
interruption of the amusement during the cold season.
Many gentlemen, well known to the community, have dis-
played considerable skill, and uncommon grace in the art,
and caused this interesting pastime to be generally noticed.
It is recommended by its excellent effects upon the body
and mind, and perhaps, of all the amusements resorted to,
is productive of the least inconvenience, and may be en-
joyed at trifling risk. Accidents upon the ice are rare;
they are generally the result of great carelessness, and in
Skating, are not more to be dreaded than those met with in
the common amusements of youth.

An entire abandonment of the old fashioned Skates, com-
monly known by the name of gutters, dumps, rockers, &c.
is strongly recommended. A proper Skate iron, is in shape
very much like the runner of a sleigh, the curvature in it
being very slight. The American Skates, after an im-
proved plan, are now manufactured by Mr. Thomas W.
Newton, No. 60 Dock street, and will, in the course of
time, come into general use, and entirely supersede the
foreign article. They are formed altogether of iron, the
foot piece being a thin plate of that metal, and the runner
fastened to it, by having several projecting points passing
through holes drilled in the foot piece, and rivetted, form-
ing a strong and immovable union, a point in which the
common kind is very deficient.

The principal advantages consist in the breadth of the
foot plate, and the foot being brought viicch nearer the ice.
R

The plate being made right and left, gives the entire
breadth of the sole of the boot. It is also a little hollowed
and turned upwards in front, fitting the shape of the sole
exactly, and so pleasantly, that a slight strapping suflSces to
hold it firm. Instead of being strapped from toe to heel,
as in the common way, the strap forms a bracing across
the foot, with four attachments on each side. The pressure
is thus so equalized as to make it very comfortable; upon
taking off these Skates, after hours of use, no cramping of
the foot is felt; the great advantage in having so many
bearings of the straps is, that the pressure of the large and
continually moving tendons of the instep is avoided.

The runners are brought up in front till they turn over
and touch the top of tlie foot, and being rounded on the
edges and highly burnished, the appearance is light and
handsome; this form is not given merely to please the eye,
for if every Skater used this shape, those accidents which
sometimes happen by two persons hooking the points of
their Skates together, would never occur. The best im-
provement, lately discovered, consists in making the run-
ner the entire length of the foot, letting it come back to the
extremity of the heel.

That great desideratum, the firm fixture of the Skate to
the heel, has, by a very simple plan, been perfected in the
new kind; it is a small ketch at the extreme end of the
heel, which is with great facility attached to a screw head
that is fixed and ramains in the boot heel.

The iron soled Skate is not a new invention; it was used
in the family of the late Mr. Peale more than thirty years
back.

In the compilation of this article, we are indebted to one
or two friends, adepts in the art of Skating, for their ideas
upon the subject, and have also derived some assistance
from a piece under that head, to be found in Nicholson's
Encyclopedia. Should what we have written tend to
bring this delightful pastime into general practice in the
winter season, we shall be more than repaid for any little
trouble its preparation may have occasioned. P.

STRICTURE ON I. T. S.

Messrs. Editors,

In the second number of your interesting work, a cor-
respondent has presented your readers with an entertain-
ing and lengthy account of << Chesapeake Duck Shooting."
I read it with considerable pleasure, as well from the faith-
fulness of his description, as from a natural fondness I have
for sporting, or for any thing that has a tendency to keep
alive its spirit; in giving his ideas, however, of shooting, so
far as relates to directing tlic gun in advance of the duck

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

to overcome the rapidity of its flight, I beg leave to differ,
and, in doing so, I am well aware I oppose myself to the
practice of many a good shot, whom custom and prejudice
have confirmed in old habits. There are many ways,
nevertheless of accomplishing the same end — what one
would adopt, another rejects — and, after much experience,
strengthened by the observations of others, I have found
that more depends on quickness of eye in covering the
bird, and a simultaneous touch of the trigger, than in any
rule, as to distance, laid down by your correspondent.
The great mistake with many, which leads them to adopt
your correspondent's mode, is, that at the time of pulling
the trigger, they stop the swing of the gun, and thus shoot
behind the bird, whilst if the swing of the gun was kept
up in a ratio corresponding with the flight of the bird, and
trigger pulled when fairly covered, the result would ever
be found effective, if within killing distance. When flint-
guns were in general use, the necessity of shooting in
advance was more obvious, as often times a considerable
interval elapsed from the pull of trigger to the discharge of
the gun; but, since the introduction of the percussion prin-
ciple, the discharge and effect are so simultaneous, that a
good eye and obedient hand are now only necessary.

With regard to the effect of shot, when " heard to strike,"
I would also take the liberty of dissenting; the very cir-
cumstance of the shot being heard to strike, is convincing
to my mind of a want of sufiicient force to penetrate. This
may be illustrated by discharging the contents of a shot-
gun against a board fence, at a moderate distance: if the
striking of the shot can be heard, it will be found on exami-
nation of the fence, that their force has been ineffectual:
but if, on the other hand, the action of the shot has been
silent, their power will be evidenced by the fact of their
penetration, in every part of the wood: it is the resistance
of the shot by the object, that causes their action to be
heard, and in no instance will they be found to be fatal,
when this is the case.

By giving the foregoing observations a place in the Cabi-
net, you will oblige a

Jan. 31, 1831. ' SPORTSMAN.

AN EXTRAORDINARY WOLF HUNT.

In the winter of 1815, I was called on with Capt. W

by a neighbour, who had, the evening previous, seven sheep
killed, by a Wolf, to assist him in the destruction of this
animal.

We were then residents of the village Deposit, in the
county of Delaware, state of New York, about one hun-
dred and fifty miles north of Philadelphia, and near the

Pennsylvania line, and having the character of sportsmen,
we were often called upon for like excursions, and priding
ourselves as such, we never suffered any huntsmen of our
neighbourhood to excel us in the chase, nor to take the
lead when it depended on our individual exertions, having
assisted in the destruction of many bears, wolves, and
panthers, we were well known through the whole county,
which was ninety miles in length.

In engaging in the above enterprise, we were aware
that we had difficulties to encounter of no ordinary cast,
and knowing that many of our most experienced huntsmen
had been in pursuit of this same Wolf repeatedly, without
success, we were ambitious to excel, and, accordingly,
entered into our engagement, with a determination to kill
him.

It is worthy of remark, that this Wolf was well known
through the whole county for ten or twelve years, from
the circumstance of having lost three toes off his left fore
foot, by a steel trap, consequently, his track being different
from those of other wolves, he commonly went by the
name of the '■'three-legged Wolf.^' The depredations com-
mitted by this animal were wonderful, as there was scarcely
a farm-house in the county that he had not visited, and
made havoc among their sheep, frequently destroying four-
teen in a single night; every thing which could be devised
for his destruction, was employed, but proved fruitless; he
had grown wise by experience, so that he avoided every
thing likely to entrap him, and had become so familiar
with the chase, as to elude his pursuers with the greatest
ease. About three weeks previous to our chase, this Wolf
entered the premises of Judge Pine, at Walton, and killed
for him nine sheep in one night; word was sent down at
that time with an invitation for us to join them that day in
order to destroy him. But knowing there were many pro-
fessed hunters in that place, we sent word by the express,
that " they must guard their own sheep, and if he came to
us we would guard ours." Accordingly, three of their
ablest hunters went in pursuit of him, and after a circuitous
chase of three days, gave it up, and left him within ten
miles of the place where they first started, and the very
night after, the Wolf killed three sheep for one of the men
who was chasing him the previous day; this circumstance
discouraged them, and they relinquished the chase altoge-
ther. It is well known amongst hunters, that a Wolf can
withstand the utmost fatigue when he can find means to
satisfy his hunger, and no human power can tire him down,
but keep a Wolf constantly on the run, and out of the reach
of food, he soon tires, because, being of exceeding ravenous
disposition, his hunger returns quickly, and the means of
satisfying being kept out of his reach, he will grow weaker
and more weak, until they will give up with exhaustion;

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

67

thus, this Wolf having had a hearty repast, the third
night, his pursuers knew it would be fruitless to give him
further chase, and therefore gave it up.

It was not long, however, before this depredator paid us
a visit, and destroyed, as beforementioned, seven sheep
for the farmer that had requested us to join in the pursuit
of him.

We had never heard of a Wolf being run down with fatigue
and starvation, but our acquaintance with the animal con-
vinced us of the practicability of the thing, and knowing
tills was the only probable chance we had to exterminate
him, we agreed to follow him until this was the case, or
an opportunity offered during the chase of shooting him
with our rifles.

When the request was made to me by our neighbour,

Capt. W who was standing near, asked me what I

thought of it? I replied, "he must die, or our word will
be forfeited." "Well," says he, "let us fly to arms, but
then, again, let us be satisfied that it is the ' three-legged
Wolf.' " We went to the place where he had destroyed the
sheep, and found to our satisfaction, that it was the old
depredator we had heard so much about. We, without
delay, prepared ourselves for the chase; our dress consisted
of a complete suit of flannel, next to the skin, and over
this another suit of strong linen or tow cloth (pantaloons
and frock) to fit tight, and on our feet moccasins: this was
our usual hunting dress, and required to be very strong, in
consequence of briars, laurel, under-brush, and snags; in
our frocks we had pockets sufficiently large to carry pro-
vision for the day; thus equipped, with rifles in our hands,
and dogs that would seize any wild animal, but a Wolf, we
started. It was nine o'clock in the morning — there were
fifteen ready to join us, and the ground was covered with
a fine tracking snow, about eight inches deep. Some of
the company were considered very fast runners, and those
who are acquainted with the Catskill and Delaware moun-
tains, are sensible that a horse cannot travel over them,
and that every thing of the kind must be done on foot.
We took the track, and followed it about three miles to
the foot of a mountain; and our rule, on these occasions,
was to keep a fast walk on the track until the animal jumped
from his bed, and then the fleetest man was to go ahead at
full speed.

We found the Wolf had gone up this mountain, which
was about three miles to the summit, and very steep in
places, but about two-thirds of the way up, we aroused him
from his bed, this we could tell by the snow that he had
beaten down to repose on. We ascended the mountain as
fast as we could, and, on arriving at the top, discovered
that he had steered his course towards the Susquehannah.
I then started off at full speed, and continued so for about

two miles, when I looked behind to see what progress my
companions were making. W — was close to me, but the
others were just in sight — says he, " go on, H — if he
keeps this course, about five miles ahead he will cross a
large field, and if we run faster than he has previously
been chased, we may surprise, and get a shot at him." I
immediately recollected the field, and coincided with his
reasoning. About one mile behind this field, we feared
he would cross the Cooquago Creek, ascend a mountain,
and enter a large windfall,* that was on the top of the
mountain, as it is the case with most wild animals, when
hard pressed, they will avail themselves of these difficult
places to escape, and bears, wolves, or panthers, will glide
through them with ease, when it is almost impossible for
man. I therefore exerted myself to the uttermost, and,
although the ground was covered with hemlock logs, &c.
I did not heed them, but sprang over them with ease, I
ran these five miles in a very short period, and as I ap-
proached the field, I saw the Wolf about three hundred
and fifty yards ahead, and finding that I could get no nigher
to him, I levelled my rifle and fired, I saw the snow fly
close to his side, but he went off unhurt. My rifle would
drop her ball, in that distance, nearly three feet, conse-
quently, I had to guess the proper range. In a moment,
Capt. W — was by my side, and asked what I had done? I
told him that I had not struck him. We continued our
chase, and I loaded as I ran, and only stopped to put down
the ball.

It appears that this Wolf knew, by experience, (having
been so often chased) how far exactly to keep ahead of his
pursuers; but it was evident in these five miles we gained
on and surprised him, for he was not fully aware of our
Hearing him until my rifle ball struck within a foot of his
side; this put him to a greater speed, and I did not recover
my lost ground until I had run ten miles, so equal did we
run, and part of the distance was run through the windfall
spoken of. He kept his course to within a few miles of
the Susquehannah river, and then turned towards the west
Branch of the Delaware, and ascended a mountain which
was covered with hemlock and laurel. The last four hours
we run him so hard, that he would lie down every oppor-
tunity he could get, and this laurel hill afforded him means
of rest, for it was so thick we could hardly creep through
it. In this place he took several turns to elude our pursuit,
and one of us went back in order to way-lay him, in hopes
that he would give an opportunity to shoot him, but the
thicket being so dense, that we could see but a very short
distance in it, and the Wolf glided out on the opposite side

* A windfall is a place in the forest, where a hurricane has passed, and
swept the trees to the ground, in a large confused mass, and mostly occurs
on the tops of mountains, and in the most dense thickets.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

and was off again. In this waj^ he got considerable rest,
and would gain on us, but when he crossed from one moun-
tain to another, we always pushed him hard, and would
gain on him, as the mountain sides were generally more
open, and even then he would occasionally rest, but would
always choose some point or hillock, where he, being ele-
vated, could see us without our seeing him. A Wolf, like
a dog, always turns round once or twice before he lies
down, but this fellow had become so fatigued that he would
just drop himself every now and then, and again be off.
He next made a bold push in order to reach another wind-
fall and thicket about ten miles ahead, which, it appeared,
he was well acquainted with, and which was close to the
road that run from the town of Bainbridge to Deposit. —
The sun now was but one hour high, and as he laid his
course towards that place, through a clear open wood, on
a regular descent, we pressed him hard for about five miles,
when we again saw him <ibout four hundred yards from us,
he saw us at the same time, and then he attempted to turn
back again, so that he might reach the thicket which he
had just left. I, however, cut him off, and he, seeing my
manoeuvre, kept his former course — we began to think that
he must be our's very soon, for we gained on him so fast,
that I concluded it time to give him another ball, but un-
fortunately he entered a thicket of beech brush of about
two acres, which completely shielded him from my view.
On coming up we found he had slipped out on the opposite
side, and then made off for the beforementioned windfall.
It was now getting dark, and we made for the public road,
which we soon reached, and to our joy heard bells, which
we at once recognized as coming from a sleigh owned by
Capt. Edicks; we fired 08" our rifles, in order that this gen-
tleman might know our direction. He was one of the
company who started with us in the morning, but gave out,
and knowing the direction the Wolf had taken, went home,
procured his sleigh, and came out very seasonably to meet
us, as we were then fifteen miles from home. Our dogs
were of the best kind, and would follow us while they had
life, but we had outrun them so much, that we had to wait
a long time before they came up to us. It is remarkable,
that these dogs would never touch the Wolf, they would
join in and run with, but never injure him. We arrived at
home about 9 o'clock, and found that W — and myself had
been forsaken by all of the hunters, about the time when I
fired at the Wolf crossing the field; they being so far be-
hind us as scarcely to hear the rifle, gave up the idea of
overtaking us, and returned home. By this time the report
had gone abroad that we were in pursuit of the "three-
legged Wolf," and old and young appeared full of anima-
tion to join us in the hunt next day. We took great care
in preparing ourselves for the next day's chase, in dress,

victuals, and drink; we ate but lightly, and drank nothing
but a little wine, and bathed our limbs well with brandy,
previous to retiring to bed, and thus removed all stiffness
and bruises which we had received through the day.

Before the dawn of the next day, a company had assem-
bled to the number of forty persons, fifteen of whom had
agreed to enter the chase; the rest took horses and went in
all directions, with a view to cut the Wolf off. In this
county there were but few public roads, but a great num-
ber called log roads, cut through the forest in order to carry
logs to the river for rafting; into these roads were stationed
many persons on horseback and in sleighs, while the party
on chase went immediately to the spot where the Wolf was
left the night previous. On arriving here, we found that
he had lied down and remained the greater part of the
night within four hundred yards of the place where we left
him, then it appears he walked ofl' about two miles and fell
in with a herd of Wolves, and kept with them about three
miles further; then tacked about and steered his course back
to within two miles of the village (Deposit) from which we
had just set out, and near to the very place where he had
killed the seven sheep the night before. It was a remark-
able circumstance with this Wolf that he was never known
to associate with other Wolves, and when he committed
depredations it was always when alone; for Wolves seldom
ever attack singly, but most generally in pairs, and it never
could be satisfactorily accounted for why this depredator
had no companions, unless it was, that it had been by such
that he was led into a trap, which had cost him his toes,
and nearly his life; hence the reason of his quitting the
herd above spoken of. It was now late in the day, and we
had gone out fifteen miles, and returned thirteen, before we
juniptd him from his bed, and as soon as this was the case,
the swiftest hunter took the lead, but it was some time be-
fore we got into regular Indian file, and the woods seemed
alive with men; but, after running about five miles, the
fresh hands began to fall back, and by the time we reached
ten miles, I looked behind, and seen only W — , who was
within ten steps of me. As this was the first time that we
had an opportunity of competing with some neighbouring
crack hunters, and these having relinquished the chase, we
plainly saw that the destruction of the Wolf depended
solely on our own exertions; this circumstance, instead of
discouraging, only animated us to persevere. The Wolf
next steered his course for the upper part of the county,
and we pressed him at a rapid pace ; one tried to excel the
other, and I could generally take the lead of my companion
in the morning, but his exceeding perseverance and good
bottom, generally brought him ahead of me before night,
and as a passing tribute to his prowess, I must say, that I
never saw his equal, as a huntsman ; there was no difficulty

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

too great for him to overcome, no danger so formidable but
he would face it, and he was as fearless of the consequences
of attacking the most ferocious animals, as though they
were but sheep; and hence, in the present difficult under-
taking, he never uttered a discouraging word, and so intent
was he on the destruction of this Wolf, that no reward
would have made him relinquish the chase.

We were satisfied that this animal was so tired, that he
could not travel at night in seaixh of food, especially as he
was leading oS" from the places of his former depredations
towards the Susquehannah, and it was evident, by the re-
peated beds he made in the snow, where he had thrown him-
self down for momentary repose, that he could not sustain
the chase much longer, he however soon changed his course,
and turned in the direction of the river Delaware again.

The way before us now, was down the mountain's side,
through a clear, open woods, on a regular descent as far as
the eye could reach, and at least twelve miles; my regular
jumps were about eight feet; after running this distance, I
saw the Wolf, just as I approached another hill, but too far
from me to do execution, and had there been two miles
more of this open wood, he certainly would have fallen a
victim to our rifles.

But ascending the hill he gained on us, and being sensi-
ble that our footsteps were retarded, he would drop him-
self in the snow every few paces, and get some rest. On
the hill he entered another windfall, around which he took
several turns, and although we waylaid him again, yet he
slipped ofi" and made for a thicket about three miles further
on. He was but a short distance from us, and W — and
myself pressed on with greater speed, in order, if possible,
to overtake him before he could reach this thicket, but in
spite of all our eflbrts he succeeded without our once seeing
him. W — then took the lead, and says he, " if we can
but get him out of this thicket before dark, he is a dead
Wolf, but we must crowd him hard before night." Be-
fore us lay a large mountain, which w-e knew bordered on
the river Delaware, and close to a small place called Dick-
inson's city, and which consisted of four log houses, hav-
ing derived its name from some early settlers; this was
twelve miles distant from our village Deposit. The Wolf
run this thicket for two miles and crossed a creek called
Trout brook, then the road which leads to W^alton, and
went up the aforesaid mountain; when we came to the
road we met Mr. Mossman, who informed us that he saw
the Wolf pass just before him, and ascend the mountain,
and that he was but two minutes ahead of us. It being so
dark, we gave up the chase for the day, and went down to
Dickinson cit}\ Here, at a public house kept by Jesse
Gilbert, we received a very comfortable repast, indeed,
exceeding our expectations. About five miles from this
S

place, lived one Derrick Brewer, and much celebrated as a
great runner, and huntsman; him, therefore, we deter-
mined to have, if possible, to join us for the next day's
hunt; we, accordingly, gave a man a handsome reward, and
despatched him express after Brewer, with a request for
him to meet us at Dickinson before day light: we then
retired to rest, and arose before dawn of day much refreshed,
and with better feelings, but somewhat sorer than the day
previous. Brewer was ready, and after we eat a slight
breakfast, (in which B. refused to join us) we started. It
appears that this hunter would lace himself with a belt, and
never eat until about nine o'clock, while we would not clog
nature, and eat continually, but very slightly, which kept
up a constant stimulus in our systems, as we always carried
biscuit or doe-nuts with us, sufficient to last the day. See-
ing the manner Brewer treated himself, W — says to him,
" you must not take it amiss that if you do not eat break-
fast, I tell you, you will not be able to keep up with us."
"Well," says Brewer, "two o'clock will decide that."
By the time it was fairly light, we were at the spot where
we had left him the night previous, and we had not pro-
ceeded more than three hundred yards up the hill, before
we found his bed; this he had left of his own accord, and
walked to the top of the hill, which was about a mile and a
half to the summit, and then took to another road which
led direct to Walton, and continued until he came close to
Judge Pines' farm, a distance of fifteen miles, where he had
a few weeks previous killed so many sheep, and there at
the foot of another hill he had reposed for the remainder
of the night. We soon aroused him, and he took directly
up this hill, which was exceedingly steep, but up which
we clambered, with slow progress, until we gained the
top. We had walked fifteen miles, and as I was first on
the summit of the hill, I looked down and saw W — about
thirty yards from me, and Brewer fifty^behind him. The
Wolf kept his course on the brow of that hill for three miles,
and then left it and crossed the road which leads from Wal-
ton to Franklin, on the Susquehannah, here I stopped and
waited for my companions. W — was immediately by my
side, but Brewer, on whom we depended so much, came
up puffing and blowing; Says W — , "he is out of breath,
his lacing wont do, he must give nature its bounds."
The wood before us was open for six miles, and gradually
ascending, but not so much as to prevent our taking rapid
strides; as I neared the top I slacked for W — to come up,
but Brewer was not in sight, and we expected he had
given up and returned home. "Now," says W — , "if
the Wolf keeps this course, we will have a regular descent
for nine miles." I then started at full speed, guarding
always against jumping into holes, (in which case, proba-
bly, my legs would have been broken,) until I came within

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

two miles of the foot of the hill, when I saw the rascal
about three hundred yards ahead, and he saw me at the
same time. We now had it as hard as we could lay to,
and I saw that I gained on him but slowly, and being with-
in one hundred and seventy-five yards of him, I fired just
as he was quartering on me, but he kept his course, and
rose a high mountain immediately before us. I re-loaded,
and proceeded on, and found that he had dropped in the
snow so often, as to evince the greatest fatigue, and nothing
but his very life stimulated him on. On this mountain
were many windfalls, and other diflFicult places, almost im-
passable for man, and had we been in chase of any other
animal but the "three-legged Wolf," the number of diflS-
culties at this time would have disheartened us, but' we
were intent on victory, and our infatuation blinded us to
difficulties, and made us callous to suffering. Brewer did
not hear my rifle, but it appears that he persevered until he
came to the spot just described, when he gave up and went
home, and told the neighbours that he was certain that
W — and myself would kill the Wolf before, as we had
nearly killed him behind us. Our antagonist kept his
course on this hill for seven miles, but it being covered
with underbrush, we could not gain on him: the sun was
gliding behind the distant hills, and the Wolf having so
much start of us, we concluded to look out for quarters to
spend the night; we accordingly ascended a high point on
the mountain, and in a valley two miles distant we saw a
house, whither we proceeded, and were immediately recog-
nised by a young man, an inmate of the dwelling; he in-
quired of us " what brought us there in our hunting dress,
and with rifles." We told him we were after the "three-
legged Wolf" "Ah," says he, "I know him well; I
hope you will not leave him here, for only three weeks
since he killed eleven sheep in one night for us, and last win-
ter he killed eighteen others; has he not lost part of his left
fore foot?" We told him we were satisfied that he knew
him, as that was his description, and that we would never
give him up until we destroyed him, unless a snow should
fall so as to obliterate his track. This was fifty-two miles
from our homes, in a direct line, and I have no doubt we
run that day sixty miles, as we were then near Delhi, in
the upper part of the county.

We were treated with great hospitality by this family,
whose name was Wilson, and every thing was done, to make
us and our dogs comfortable, that could be devised; after
drinking some tea and eating but little, we found that sleep
was more desirable than any thing else, and we retired to
rest. Our dogs did not reach the house for some time after
our arrival, and then they were in a wretched condition;
but the family exercised great humanity towards them,
cially the children, who had taken them into the par-

lour, and were rubbing them with dry napkins. We had
requested the family to prepare us breakfast, and call us be-
fore daylight, and so anxious were they to afford us every
facility, that the children took turns in sitting up all night,
for fear we might oversleep ourselves. When we arose, we
found a repast prepared for us, with some doe-nuts to eat
through the day. This, generally, was our daily food,
and for drink we would catch up a handful of snow, as we
ran, not allowing ourselves sufficient time to slake our
thirst at a brook.

Before light we started, and tracked our way up the
mountain, and I can candidly say, I never felt better than
at that time; my spirits were buoyant, and I trod with
lighter footstep than any day previous: this was the fourth
day of our hunt. I asked Capt. W — how he felt; says he,
" I feel well, victory to-day, to-day the Wolf must die."
But we felt keenly for our poor dogs; for, although they
had been so well nursed, yet they could not move a step
scarcely, without crying; and thus they continued yelping
until they had followed us some miles. We would have
left them at the farm-house, but they howled so tei-ribly,
we were obliged to let them follow us. About light, we
got on the Wolf's track again, and within three hundred
yards found he had lied down, but had risen again in the
night, voluntarily, and walked not more than ten yards,
before he made another bed in the snow. It was evident
his time was drawing to its close, for in the last bed he laid
till we surprised him in the morning. His former plan
was, after we had ceased chasing him, to run a few hun-
dred yards, then lie down for about half of the night,
and rise again, and travel off fifteen or twenty miles into
the neighbourhood of his depredations, and then rest pre-
paratory to the next nights havoc amongst sheep; but now
it was pretty certain that we had tired him too much to
waste any time after sheep, and that he did not possess
power to travel much further.

When we aroused him this time, he led right off from
home, but we cared not whither he went so that he left a
track for us to follow him; but this mountain was covered
with underbrush, and he appeared to be well acquainted
with every inch of ground he ran over, therefore we could
not push him to the extent we desired, this he was well
aware of, and he would choose the most dense and difficult
part of the wood, but he omitted now, making his usual
circuits about the windfalls, as he had no time to spare, and
would continue his course direct. We followed him with
renewed speed for about seven miles, when he left the
mountain, and directed his course across a valley, six miles,
to another mountain: through this valley was clear open
wood, and we pressed him so hard, that he began to lengthen
his jumps, and made no more beds in the snow, until he

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

71

reached the above mountain, where he had opportunities
again to rest, as the side on which he ran was so perpendi-
cular that we made but slow progress. We found that he
would drop himself to rest, every few steps, and just keep-
ing so far ahead as to be out of our sight, although we were
confident he saw us continually. On arriving at the lop of
the mountain, we found he had made a start for a thicket,
on the same mountain, before we could overtake him, but
the course he was going was a gradual descent for about
fifteen miles, until it terminated at the foot of another
mountain, which was in that range called Pine Hill, on
the head waters of the west branch of the Delaware river.

I started off at full speed down this side of the mountain,
making long jumps; I never felt better; and with ease to
myself could run a mile in five minutes; my limbs felt in-
vigorated, and my speed was superior to any of the former
days. I continued so for nearly thirteen miles, and then
came within sight of the Wolf He was then but two
hundred yards in advance of me, and he had yet two miles
further to go before he could reach the mountain, and this
through open wood; he used every exertion to quicken his
pace, but in spite of his efforts, I gained on him. I had run
but one mile since I got sight of him, and when I was within
forty yards of him, he looked behind at me, and seeing no
possible chance of escaping, dropped his tail between his
legs, and stopped; I ran within twenty yards, and shot a
ball immediately through his body — he fell, and arose
again ; crack went Capt. W. 's rifle, and down he dropped
dead, in a moment my foot was on his neck; but we were
at a loss to express our joy — we were in the midst of an
extensive forest, and we knew not where; we charged our
rifles, and gave four rounds in commemoration of the four
days' chase. Our difficulties were not yet to an end, for
we were determined to take him home, we accordingly cut
a small stick, and twisted one end, fastened it to his upper
jaw, and while one carried the rifles, the other dragged him
on the snow. It appeared, on examining the Wolf, that
I had struck him on the flank the day previous, when I
fired at him, to about the depth of the ball, cutting the flesh,
but not so as to retard his progress. W^e continued drag-
ging him, and followed down a small branch, which, we
were convinced, would either lead us to the Delaware, or
Susquehannah: and, after proceeding about eight miles,
came to a farm-house, occupied by a Mr. Sawyer; he soon
recognized us, and seeing us dragging a Wolf, asked if we
had the " three-legged Wolf?" and when we answered in
the affirmative, says he, "I will hold a day of rejoicing,
for I have but few sheep left from last winter, as he then
killed nine, and eight of them were my best ewes, and, I
suppose, he came here for more mutton. — Tell me," con-
tinued he, "what I can do for you, and it shall be done."

We asked him if he would take us in his sleigh towards
our home, or until we could find some of our neighbours
that would take us the balance of the way. We were then
eighty miles from our village of Deposit, in a direct line,
and he, without hesitation, agreed to do so. The next day
we arrived at Walton; here were assembled, some of our
companions who had started with us on the hunt from
Deposit, having heard the course the Wolf had taken, had
followed us as nigh as they could guess, and this being the
last place they could hear of us, they concluded to remain
here. The number of persons assembled at Walton, out
of curiosity, was about one hundred, to see the result of
the chase, as every farmer appeared to be deeply interested
in the destruction of this Wolf; and making a calculation,
we found that the persons assembled there alone, had sheep
destroyed by him nearly to the amount of one thousand
dollars. Wlien, therefore, they saw our success, it appeared
as though they could not do too much for us; they escorted
us home with fifteen sleighs (a distance of thirty miles) and
our fame resounded throughout the whole county, with
the benediction of "blessed is he that holdeth out to the
end." T. M. H.

PETRIFIED FOREST OF MISSOURI.

The folllowing letter, directed to Mr. Peale, of the
Philadelphia Museum, has been received, with a specimen
of the petrified wood, taken from the forest, and a descrip-
tion of this interesting change of nature attached to it; both
are inserted at length, so that all doubts on the subject may
be put to rest.

Greensburgh, 5th Nov. 1S30.

SiK,

About eighteen months since I had received from Lieut.
G. H. Crosman, of the U. S. Army, a specimen of the
Petrifactions in the Forest of Missouri, with the intention
of forwarding it by some convenient opportunitj^, to be
deposited in your valuable Museum. Other engagements,
however, have hitherto prevented me from carrying this
intention into eflect, until my attention was this morning
called to the subject by an article in the National Journal,
of the 30th ult., extracted from the New York Evening
Post, referring to an article in the Philadelphia Chronicle.

It is evident, from the specimen now forwarded, as well
as from the information received from Mr. Crosman, that it
is a true petrifaction, and not merely an incrustation. The
appearance would indicate a calcareous mineralizing matter;
this, however, is not the fact, as proved by the application
of sulphuric acid. It is evidently silicious, although I

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

have not taken the pains of making the experiment;
although sufficiently apparent from its hardness, &c.

I enclose the article in the Journal, to which I have
alluded, and will forward the specimen with this, the first
convenient opportunity.

Very respectfully, your obd't servant,

A. W. FOSTER.

The following is attached to the specimen now in the
Philadelphia Museum: — "Petrifaction of Wood. — This
piece of petrified wood, was broken from the stump of a
tree measuring fifteen feet in circumference, and about four
feet in height, by actual measurement. It was found on
the S. W. bank of the Missouri River, about thirty miles
below the mouth of the Yellow Stone, and nearly opposite
the junction of White Earth River with the Missouri, in
lat. about 48° 15',"

The most remarkable facts, concerning the petrfaci-
tions of this region, are, that stumps, limbs and roots
of trees of all sizes, broken into fragments, lie scattered
over the country for a distance of thirty or forty miles, at
an elevation above the level of the river, of at least five
hundred feet, and at a point which is computed at six or
seven thousand feet above the level of the Ocean.

Surgeon Gale, of the Army, who, as well as myself,
was attached to the military expedition that ascended the
Missouri in 1825, from Council Bluffs to Two Thousand
Mile Creek, and who accompanied me on an exploring
and hunting excursion, across the country, from below the
mouth of White Earth River, to the Y^ellow Stone, as-
sisted in examining and measuring the stumps of some of
those petrified trees, and he gave it as his opinion, that
from the appearance of the country, some thousand years
must have elapsed since a thick forest of timber stood
where now nothing remains but these petrified fragments

He was rather inclined to the opinion, that the kind of
wood, was the cotton wood of the Missouri country, com-
mon enough along the banks of the Missouri river and its
tributaries.

This subject furnishes abundant matter for the natural
philosopher, for whose curiosity and speculation it is here
submitted. G- H. CROSMAN,

U. S. Army.

DEFENCE OF THE PERCUSSION.

The general opinion is, that shot is propelled to a greater
distance and with more uniform velocity from a gun, in
proportion as the force of powder exceeds the weight of
shot; and it is upon this false supposition that the anti-per-
cussionists have grounded their objections to detonating

guns, by affirming, that "the explosion takes place so in-
stantaneously that the whole of the load of powder is not
ignited, and that a portion is driven out unexploded."

It is well known that the resistance which bodies meet
with in passing through a fluid, increases as the square of
their velocity. Therefore a load of shot, passing through
the air at a given rate, would meet with four times the re-
sistance if its speed were doubled. Hence, if one drachm
of powder will carry a load of shot forty yards with a given
force, the power of two drachms would, it is true, give a
double velocity to the shot at its egress from the muzzle of
the gun; but the resistance being now four times greater
than in the former instance, the force of it at the distance
of forty yards would be very much diminished.

I have shot three seasons with my present gun, which is
a double-barrelled detonator. For the two first seasons I
used the proportions for the load which I received from
the gunmaker, and during that time I do not recollect to
have killed a bird fartlier than forty paces. Thinking this
might be improved upon, I determined to try the effect of
reducing the quantity of powder; and having first loaded
with the original charge (and No. 5 shot), I fired at a tin
powder flask at the distance of forty measured yards, and
struck it with five shots, but the marks were barely per-
ceptible. I then reduced the quantity of powder (only)
one quarter, and the shots made much deeper indentations
in the tin than before. I then reduced the powder still
further, to about two-thirds of the original charge, and the
result answered my expectations fully: for I found five
shots as firmly set in the tin as stone was ever set in gold.
I measured the distance of two shots at birds: one was
sixty-two paces, and the other sixty-three; in both instances
the birds fell dead at the fire.

I have from the first maintained that a detonator ignites
more grains of powder than a flint and steel gun does.
The result of my experiment has fully established my opin-
ion upon this point. The fire from the copper cap being
driven with considerable force into the load of powder, ig-
nites the whole; the force of which explosion being too
great for the weight of shot, diminishes at a certain distance
the velocity of the latter.

On the other hand, the fire communicates with the pow-
der in the barrel of a flint and steel gun merely by the igni-
tion of grain by grain; so that just as much of the powder,
and no more, explodes as is sufficient to discharge the load.

A proper regulation of the charge, therefore, seems alone
requisite to make a detonator carry as strong as a flint and
steel gun; and if the means for diminishing the force of
the powder instead of increasing it, had been consulted,
less time would have produced a more satisfactory result.
Sporting Magazine.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

PRAIRIE WOLF.

CANIS LATRANS.

[Plate VII.]

Small Wolf. Du Pratz, Louisiana, vol. ii. p. 54. —
Prairie Wolf. Lewis & Clark. — Canis latrans.
Say, Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, i. p. 168.
Richardson, Faun. Am. bor. 73. — Barking Wolf.
GoDMAN, i. p. 260. — Philadelphia Museum.

It is a subject of regret, that the information we
respecting most of our native quadrupeds, and more espe-
cially of those which are confined to the western portion of
this continent, should be so exceedingly scanty and defec-
tive; this is particularly the case with the subject of our pre-
sent sketch; by far the greater proportion of our knowledge
of the Prairie Wolf being derived from the description
given of it by JNIr. Say, in the work above cited ; and that of
Dr. Richardson, in his Fauna Americana Boreali; it is
true, that it had been previously noticed by other travel-
lers, but, their accounts are too succinct and confused to af-
ford such data as are required, either to establish its identity,
or to enable us to ascertain its peculiar habits. We shall,
therefore, freely avail ourselves of the labours of the distin-
guished naturalists, just mentioned, incorporating with their
descriptions, such additional information as we have met, in
the course of our investigations.

The Prairie Wolf appears to have been well known to
Indian traders, and by them distinguished from its kindred
species, long before it was recognized by naturalists. Dr.
Richardson states, that skins of this animal have always
formed part of the Hudson Bay Company's importations,
under the title of cased wolves; so called because they are
not split open like the skins of larger animals, but stripped
off and inverted as those of the fox and rabbit.

They are found in the western parts of the United States
and Canada, being extremely numerous in the prairies to
the west of the Missouri, and also occur, though not so
plentifully, in the vicinity of the Colombia. Their north-
ern limit is about the fifty-fifth degree of north latitude;
but our information as to their southern range is very
vague, though it is probable that they are found in the
northern provinces of Mexico.

Their general colour is cinereous or grey, mixed with
black, dull fulvous or cinnamon above. The hair is dusky
plumbeous at base, dull cinnamon in the middle of its
length, and grey or black at its extremity; it is longer on
the vertebral line, than on other parts of the body. The
ears are erect, rounded at tip and lined with grey hair; of
T

a cinnamon colour behind. The e^'elids are edged with
black; the superior eyelashes are black beneath and at tip
above; the supplemental lid is margined with blackish
brown before and edged with the same colour behind; the
iris is yellow and the pupil blue-black; there is a blackish-
brown spot upon the lachrymal sac. The face is of a cin-
namon colour, with a greyish tint on the nose; the lips are
white, edged with black, and having three rows of black
bristles. The head between the ears is grey, intermixed
with a dull cinnamon colour, the hairs being dull plumbeous
at base. The colour of the sides is paler than that of the
back, with faint black bands above the legs, which are of a
cinnamon colour on the outside, becoming brighter poste-
riorily. The tail is straight, fusiform, and bushy, of a grey
colour mixed with cinnamon, and having a spot near the
base above and the tip black; beneath it is white.

These animals differ exceedingly in their markings and
general colour, some specimens not having the brown tints,
but being almost wholly of a grey hue, with an intermix-
ture of black in irregular spots and lines; other individuals
have a broad black mark on the shins of the fore legs, like
the European wolf Our representation is taken from well-
preserved specimens in the Philadelphia Museum, obtained
by Mr. T. R. Peale, whilst attached to the Expedition to
the Rocky Mountains, under the command of Major Long.

The Prairie Wolf is about three feet and a half in length,
including the tail, which is about one foot. The ears are
four inches in height from the top of the head. The extre-
mity of the trunk of the tail, reaches the projection of the
OS calcis, when the leg is extended. They bear so strong
a resemblance to the domestic dog, so common in the In-
dian villages, that Mr. Say is of opinion they are the ori-
ginal stock from whence the latter is derived. Their
bark also is very similar to that of the dog; in fact the first
two or three notes cannot be distinguished from those of a
small terrier, but these are succeeded by a prolonged yell.
It was from this peculiarity of barldng, that Mr. Say be-
stowed the specific name of latrans on this animal. This
species does not diffuse the offensive odour, so remarkable
in most of the other species, particularly the nubilus (Say. )

The Prairie Wolves occur in great numbers in the great
western plains, uniting like their brethren the jackals, in
packs for the purpose of hunting deer, which they fre-
quently succeed in running down and killing, particularly
in a hard winter when a crust forms on the snow. It is
also said, that they will drive these animals into a lake and
remain concealed in the vicinity, watching till the exhausted
deer return, and fall an easy prey to their insatiate pursuers.
This is the more probable, as it is well known that some of
the other species of American wolves practice equally inge-
nious stratagems to entrap animals of superior speed. Cap-

74

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

tain Franklin gives the following interesting account of this
mode of taking their prey. " So much snow," says he,
" had fallen on the night of the 24th, that the track we in-
tended to follow was completely covered; and our march
to-day was very fatiguing. We passed the remains of two
red deer, lying at the bases of perpendicular cliiTs, from the
summits of which they had probably been forced by the
wolves. These voracious animals, who are inferior in
speed to the moose, or red deer, are said frequently to have
recourse to this expedient, in places where extensive plains
are bounded by precipitous cliffs. Whilst the deer are
quietly grazing, wolves assemble in great numbers, and,
forming a crescent, creep slowly towards the herd, so as
not to alarm them much at first; when they perceive that
they have fairly hemmed in the unsuspecting creatures,
and cut off their retreat across the plain, they move more
quickly, and with hideous yells terrify their prey, and
urge them to flight by the only open way, which is to-
wards the precipice; appearing to know that, when the
herd is once at full speed, it is easily driven over the cliff
— the rearmost urging on those that are before. The
wolves then descend at their leisure, and feast on the
mangled carcases."

Mr. Say seems to think that they require an exercise of
all their speed, to succeed in the chase of a deer or young
buffalo, but from the statement of Dr. Richardson, and of a
writer in the Sporting Magazine, it appears, that they are
very swift and long winded, the former of these gentlemen
states, that he was informed by a trader who had resided
for many years in the Hudson Bay Company's possessions,
that the only animal which surpassed the Prairie Wolf in
swiftness, was the prong horned antelope. Notwithstand-
ing their speed and cunning, they are often exposed to great
distress for want of food, and are reduced to the necessity
of satisfying their hunger with prairie mice, snakes, &c.,
and even of appeasing, in some degree, the cravings of ap-
petite by distending their stomach with wild plums, and
other equally indigestible food. They have been known
to lay waste fields of corn, of which grain they are very
fond when it is in a green state. They will also venture
near the encampment of the traveller, and follow the hunter
in hopes of partaking of any offals that may be left.

The Prairie Wolf closely resembles the other species in
rapacity and cunning; there are few animals that are more
suspicious and mistrustful, or avoid snares and traps with
such intuitive sagacity. Mr. Say gives the following ac-
count of plans of taking them, which were attempted by
Mr. Peale: "He constructed and tried various kinds of
traps, one of which was of the description called a 'live
trap,' a shallow box, reversed and supported at one end by
the well known kind of trapsticks, usually called the ' figure

four,' which elevated the front of the trap, upwards of three
feet above its slab flooring; the trap was about six feet long,
and nearly the same in breadth, and was plentifully baited
with ofl'al. Notwithstanding this arrangement, a wolf actu-
ally burrowed under the flooring, and pulled down the bait
through the crevices of the floor; tracks of different sizes
were observed about the trap. This procedure would seem
the result of a faculty beyond mere instinct.

" This trap proving useless, another one was constructed in
a different part of the country, formed like a large cage, but
with a small entrance on the top, through which the animals
might enter, but not return; this was equally unsuccessful:
the wolves attempted in vain to get at the bait, as they
would not enter by the route prepared for them.

"A large double 'steel trap' was next tried; this was
profusedly baited, and the whole carefully concealed be-
neath the fallen leaves. This was also unsuccessful. Tracks
of the anticipated victims, were next day observed to be im-
pressed in numbers on the earth near the spot; but still the
trap, with its seductive charge, remained untouched. The bait
was then removed from the trap, and suspended over it from
the branch of a tree; several pieces of meat were also sus-
pended in a similar manner from trees in the vicinity; the fol-
lowing morning the bait over the trap alone remained. Sup-
posing that their exquisite sense of smell, warned them of
the position of the trap, it was removed, and again covered
with leaves, and the baits being disposed as before, the leaves
to a considerable distance around were burned, and the trap
remained perfectly concealed by ashes, still the bait over the
trap was avoided. Once only this trap was sprung, and had
fastened, for a short time, on the foot of another species" —
(C. nubilus — Say. J

Not disheartened by these fruitless attempts, which were
repeated and varied in every possible manner, Mr. Peale
attempted another scheme, which eventuated in complete
success. " This was a log trap, in which one log is ele-
vated above another at one end, by means of an upright
stick, which rests upon a rounded horizontal trigger stick
on the inferior log."

There can be but little doubt, that the Prairie Wolf might
be domesticated, for it is a remarkable fact in the history
of animals, that the larger carnivora are more readily and
completely tamed than the smaller. This may arise from
several causes, but the most prominent is, that although
they are endowed with greater strength, they are likewise
possessed of a superior degree of intelligence. Experience
confirms the truth of this reasoning. There is no carni-
vorous animal, that may not be tamed by proper treatment,
and which will not become useful and even affectionate to a
certain degree. But this disposition is evinced in very dif-
ferent proportions by different species. Thus, the smaller

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

carnivora, even when most perfectly tamed, retain charac-
ters pecuhar to themselves, which can never be eradicated;
the cat, although caressed and fondled, seldom or ever for-
gets the marked propensities of her race, whilst the dog,
though infinitely more powerful, loses his natural peculia-
rities to assume those of his master. Instinct appears to
militate, in the strongest manner, against education, whilst
those animals possessing more of that faculty approaching
to human reason, are capable of acquiring habits and man-
ners wholly at variance with their natural character.

THE OSTRICH.

Unequalled in stature among birds, strikingly peculiar
in its form, singular in its habits, and eagerly sought after
as furnishing in its graceful plumes one of the most elegant
among the countless vanities both of savage and civilized
life, the Ostrich has always excited a high degree of inte-
rest in the minds even of the most superficial observers.
But far more strongly does this feeling prevail in that of
the reflecting naturalist, who does not regard this gigantic
bird as an isolated portion of the great system of nature,
but perceives in it one of those remarkable links in the
complicated chain of the creation, too often invisible to
human scrutiny, but occasionally too obvious to be over-
looked, which connect together the various classes of ani-
mated beings. With the outward form and the most essen-
tial parts of the internal structure of Birds, it combines in
many of its organs so close a resemblance to the Rumina-
ting Quadrupeds, as to have received, from the earliest
antiquity, an epithet indicative of that affinity which later
investigations have only tended more satisfactorily to esta-
blish. The name of Camel-Bird, by which it was known,
not only to the Greeks and Romans, but also to the nations
of the East; the broad assertion of Aristotle, that the
Ostrich was partly Bird and partly Quadruped; and that of
Pliny, that it might almost be said to belong to the Class
of Beasts; are but so many proofs of the popular recognition
of a well authenticated zoological truth.

The Ostrich, in fact, is altogether destitute of the power
of flight, its wings being reduced to so low a degree of
development as to be quite incapable of sustaining its
enormous bulk in the air. Its breast-bone is consequently
flattened and uniform on its outer surface, like that of a
Quadruped, offering no trace of the elevated central ridge
so generally characteristic of Birds, and so conspicuously
prominent in those which possess the faculty of supporting
themselves long upon the wing. Its legs, on the contrarj^,
are excessively powerful; and are put in action by muscles

of extraordinary magnitude. This muscular power, toge-
ther with the great length of its limbs, enables it to run
with incredible swiftness, and to distance, with little exer-
tion, the fleetest Arabian horses. The total want of
feathers on every part of these members, and their division
into no more than two toes, connected at the base by a
membrane, a structure not unaptly compared to the elon-
gated and divided hoof of the Camel, have always been
considered striking points of resemblance between these
animals: but there is another singularity in their external
conformation which affords a still more remarkable coin-
cidence. They are both furnished with callous protube-
rances on the chest, and on the posterior part of the
abdomen, on which they support themselves when at rest;
and they both lie down in the same manner, by first
bending the knees, and then applying the anterior callosity,
and lastly, the posterior, to the ground. Add to this that,
equally patient of thirst, and endowed with stomachs some-
what similar in structure, they are both formed for inha-
biting, to a certain extent, the same arid deserts, and it
will readily be granted, that the affinity between these
animals is not so fanciful as might, at first sight, be ima-
gined.

The family of Birds, of which the Ostrich forms the
leading type, is remarkable for the wide dispersion of its
several members; each of them vindicating, as it were, to
itself, a distinct portion of the surface of tlie earth. The
Ostrich, which is spread over nearly the whole of Africa,
is scarcely known beyond the limits of the Arabian deserts;
while the Cassowary occupies its place amid the luxuriant
vegetation of the Indian Archipelago. The Emeu is con-
fined to the great Australian Continent, and the Rhea to
the southern extremity of the Western Hemisphere. And
finally, returning homewards, we find the Bustard, the
largest bird of this quarter of the globe, receding, it is
true, in some particulars, from the typical form, but still
fairly to be regarded as the representative of the family in
Europe. Some species, however, belong to the same group
with this latter bird, extend themselves over a considerable
portion both of Africa and Asia.

The principal external characters by which the birds
above enumerated are connected together, consist in the
absence of the hind-toe, of which not even a vestige re-
main; in the length and power of their legs, which are
completely bare of feathers; in the shortness of their wings,
and their uselessness as organs of flight; in the length of
their necks; and in their strong, blunt, flattened bills. The
plumes of the more typical among them are distinguished
by the want of cohesion between their barbs, a cohesion
which, in other birds, is manifestly subservient to the
purposes of flight, and which would, therefore, have been

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

superfluous in these, which never raise themselves above
the surface of the ground. Their food is almost entirely
vegetable, and consists of seeds and fruits, or, rarely, of
eggs and worms. Between the crop, which is of enormous
size, and the gizzard, which varies in thickness and power,
several of them are furnished with an additional ventricle,
analogous to the structure which prevails in Ruminating
Quadrupeds. They occupy a station in some degree in-
termediate between the Rasorial Birds and the Waders,
approaching the latter in many particulars of their out-
ward form, but much more closely connected with the
former in their internal structure, in their food, and in
their habits.

Of the differential characters which give to the Ostrich
the rank of a genus, the most important is founded on the
structure of its feet, which have only two toes, both di-
rected forwards, and connected at their base by a strong
membrane; the internal being considerably larger than the
external, and being furnished with a thick hoof-like claw,
which is wanting in the latter. The legs are covered with
a rugged skin, reticulated in such a manner as to present
the appearance of large scales: they are completely naked
throughout, even in the muscular part, which, like the
under surface of the wings, is bare of feathers, and exhibits
a flesh-coloured tinge. The wings are each of them armed
with two plumeless shafts, resembling the quills of a Por-
cupine. Instead of quill-feathers, they are ornamented
with gracefully undulating plumes, and similar appendages
terminate the tail. The long neck is covered on its upper
half with a thin down, through which the colour of the
skin is distinctly visible. The head is small in proportion
to the magnitude of the bird, and is invested with the same
kind of covering as the neck, except on its upper surface,
which is bald and callous. The ears are naked on the
outside, and hairy within; the eyes are large and brilliant,
and so prominently placed as to enable both to obtain a
distinct view of the same object at the same time. They
bear a remarkable similarity to the eyes of mammiferous
quadrupeds, and have frequently been compared to those
of man, which they also resemble in the breadth and mo-
bility of their upper lids, and in the lashes by which these
organs are fringed. The beak is short, straight, broad at
the base, and rounded at the point, flattened from above,
downwards, extremely strong, and opening with a wide
gape. The nostrils are seated near the base of the upper
mandible, and are partly closed by a cartilaginous protu-
berance.

The African Ostrich is the only species to which the
foregoing characters are applicable. It is generally from
six to eight feet in height. The lower part of the neck of
the male, and the whole of its body, are clothed with

broad and short feathers of a deep black, intermingled with
a few others, which are nearly white, and are barely visi-
ble, except when the plumage is rufiled. In the female
the general colour of the featliers is of a greyish, or ashy-
brown, slightly fringed with white. In both sexes the
lai-ge plumes of the wings and tail are beautifully white.
The bill is of the colour of horn, becoming blackish towards
the point. The iris is deep hazel. On the head and neck ^g
the hairy down is clear white. In the young bird these
parts, as well as the muscles of the legs, are covered like
the rest of the body, with ash-coloured feathers, which fall
off after the first year, and are not again produced.

Tlie character of the Ostrich, like that of other granivo-
rous birds, is extremely mild. It never makes use of its
great muscular power to attack, and rarely even in its own
defence. It generally has recourse to flight, as its most
effectual security against danger; and were its intelligence
equal to its velocity, this resource would seldom fail of
success. The chase of these birds is accounted one of the
most skilful and difficult exercises both for the Arab and
his horse, requiring at once the most unwearied patience
and the most reckless impetuosity. The former is abso-
lutely necessary, in order to keep them within sight, and
to watch their motions as they wheel round in a circle of
greater or less extent, and the latter to seize the favourable
opportunity of dashing down upon them in their course,
and disabling them, which is generally effected by means
of a stick thrown with dexterity between their legs. A
chase of this kind will frequently last from eight to ten
hours. When taken, they evince no ill humour, and after
a time become in some degree docile, suffering themselves
to be mounted and ridden like horses. M. Adanson, who
had several times witnessed the spectacle in Senegal, de-
clares, that even when mounted by two men, they outstrip-
ped in speed an excellent English horse. In running they
always expand their wings, not, as has been erroneously
imagined, to catch the wind in order to assist them in their
flight, for they do it indifferently, whether running with
or against the wind, but, in all probability, to counterba-
lance their great heighi, by the extension of these lateral
appendages.

Their natural food consists entirely of vegetable sub-
stances, and more especially of seeds and the various kinds
of grain, in pursuit of which they frequently commit the
greatest devastation among the crops in cultivated countries.
But so obtuse is the sense of taste in this bird, that it
swallows with the utmost indifference, sometimes even
with greediness, whatever comes in its way, whether of
animal or mineral origin, partly for the purpose, as it
should seem, of distending its stomach, and partly also to
assist, like the gravel in the crops of our common poultry,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

in the trituration of its food. Its fondness for the metals,
in particular, was early remarked, and obtained for it the
epithet of the " iron-eating Ostrich." Popular credulity
even went so far as to assign to it the power of digesting
these substances, and many are the allusions in our older
writers to this fancied property. As an amusing illustra-
tion of the prevalence of this belief, we may quote the fol-
lowing characteristic lines from "The Boke of Philip
Sparow," written by Master John Skelton, a laurelled poet
of the reign of King Henry the Eighth:

The Eslridge that will eate
An horshowe so greate
In the steade of meat
Such fervent heat
His stomake doth freat.

We know not if the Ostriches of these days are given to
the eating of horseshoes; but unquestionably they have a
particular fancy for keys, nails, and other such easily dis-
posed of articles. It would, however, be perfectly ridiculous
to imagine that the stomach of this bird is capable of digest-
ing metals, and converting them into food, although it is
undoubtedly true, that after having lain in that organ for a
length of time, they become corroded by its juices. M.
Cuvier found in the stomach of an individual that died in
the Paris Menagerie, nearly a pound weight of stones, bits
of iron and copper, and pieces of money, worn down by
constant attrition against each other, as well as by the action
of the stomach itself. The human stomach, we may add,
is equally capable of a similar exertion, although not so
frequently called upon to put it to the test. Many of our
readers will no doubt recollect the case of an American
sailor, who died in one of the London hospitals in 1809,
and who had swallowed, in the ten previous years, no
fewer than thirty-five clasp-knives. Fragments of these,
to the number of between thirty and forty, thirteen or
fourteen of them being evidently blades, were found in his
stomach after death. "Some of these," says Dr. Marcet,
in his account of the case, " were remarkably corroded and
reduced in size, while others were comparatively in a tole-
rable state of preservation." More than one instance of a
similar description has since been put on record.

Although the Ostriches live together in large herds, the
received opinion among naturalists is, that the males attach
themselves to a single female. There is some diificulty in
determining the number of eggs laid by the latter; some
travellers estimating it as high as eighty, while others
reduce it to ten. Of this latter opinion was Le Vaillant,
whose authority is decidedly entitled to the highest respect
on every subject connected witli the habits of birds, which
he studied in a state of nature with the scrutinizing eye
of a philosopher, and the patient zeal of a scientific observer.
U

He relates, however, a circumstance which once fell under
his own observation, and which tends in some measure to
reconcile these discordant statements, while at the same
time it renders it questionable whether the Ostrich is not,
occasionally at least, polygamous. Having disturbed a
female from a nest containing thirty-eight eggs of unequal
size, and having thirteen others scattered around it, he
concealed himself at a short distance, and observed, during
the day, no less than four females successively taking part
in the maternal office. Towards the close of the evening,
a male also took his share of the duty; and Le Vaillant
remarks, that he has frequently had opportunities of veri-
fying the fact, that the male bird sits as well as the female.
In this case it would appear probable that several females
had deposited their eggs in one common nest. The extra-
ordinary number of eggs said to have been sometimes found,
may also, perhaps, be accounted for by the fondness of the
natives for these delicacies, which they abstract from the
nest by means of a long stick, cautiously avoiding to intro-
duce their hands, which, they affirm, would infallibly drive
the bird to abandon the place. The Ostrich naturally con-
tinues laying in order to complete her usual number; and in
this way forty or fifty eggs may actually have been obtained
from a single female.

Within the torrid zone the eggs are merely laid in tlie
warm sand, the female sometimes sitting upon them during
the night; but, in general, the rays of the sun are sufficiently
powerful to hatch them, without any assistance on her part.
She does not, however, as has been commonly stated, ne-
glect her offspring, but watches over them with as much
solicitude as any other bird, hovering around the spot in
which they are deposited, and if surprised in her occupation,
making a short circuit, and constantly returning to the
object of her care. This doubling kind of flight is regarded
by the hunters as a certain sign of the vicinity of her eggs,
as at all other times the Ostriches pursue, for a time at
least, a direct and straight forward course. In the more
temperate regions, and especially in the neighbourhood of
the Cape, the Ostrich sits like other birds, always choosing
the most retired and solitary places. Her nest consists
merely of a pit of about three feet in diameter dug in
the sand, which is thrown up around it so as to form an
elevated margin. At some little distance are usually placed,
each in a separate cavity in the sand, a number of rejected
eggs, which are said to be intended to serve as nutriment
for the young brood, as soon as hatched; a most remark-
able instance of foresight, if tiuly stated, but not yet con-
firmed beyond the possibility of doubt.

The eggs are extremely hard, very weighty, and twenty
or thirty times as large as those of our common hen. The
colour of the shells is a dirty white, tinged with light

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

yellow. These are frequently formed into cups; and are
used in various ways as ornaments by the natives of the
countries in which they are found. The eggs themselves
form, according to Thunberg, an article of considerable
commerce at the Cape, where they are sold to the vessels
that touch there, the thickness of their shells rendering
them preferable for a sea-voyage to those of any other bird.
They are generally regarded as great luxuries; but on this
point there is some difference of opinion, M. Sonnini
affirming that, either from habit or from prejudice, he could
not bring himself to consider them so good as the eggs to
which he had been accustomed; while M. Cuvier raptu-
rously exclaims, that they are not merely to be regarded as
delicacies, but are, in fact, "ipsissimse delicise;" an expres-
sive but untranslatable phrase, which we can only render,
in piebald English, the ne plus ultra of good eating. It
is by no means improbable that, in the latter instance,
the rarity of the dish conferred upon it a higher relish
than its own intrinsic flavour would have warranted; as
was undoubtedly the case when the dissolute Roman Em-
peror, in Rome's degenerate days, ordered the brains of
six hundred Ostriches to be served up to his guests at a
single supper.

The flesh of these birds was among the unclean meats
forbidden to the Jews by the Mosaical law. It seems,
however, to have been in especial favour with the Romans,
for we read of its being frequently introduced at their
tables. We are even told by Vopiscus, that the pseudo-
Emperor Firmus, equally celebrated for his feats at the
anvil and at the trencher, devoured, in his own imperial
person, an entire Ostrich at one sitting. It is to be hoped
that the bird was not particularly old ; for it is allowed on
all hands, at least in the present day, that when it has
reached a certain age, it is both a tough and an unsavoury
morsel. The young are, nevertheless, said to be eatable;
and we may well imagine that the haunch of such a bird
would furnish a tolerably substantial dish. The Arabs, it
may be added, have adopted the Jewish prohibition, and
regard the Ostrich as an unclean animal; but some of the
barbarous tribes of the interior of Africa, like the Struthio-
phagi of old, still feed upon its flesh whenever they are
fortunate enough to procure it.

The Ostriches in the Society's collection would be truly
a noble pair, were it not for an unnatural curve in the
neck of the male, in consequence, it is said, of its having
formerly swallowed something more than usually bulky,
and hard of digestion. It was probably on account of this
slight deformity that the female took upon herself, soon
after their arrival in the Gardens, to tease and worry him
in various ways, so that the poor bird was literally hen-
pecked by his mate. This system of persecution was at

length carried so far that it was found necessary to sepa-
rate them, and the female has now the whole enclosure
to herself. She is a remarkably fine bird, in excellent
health and condition, and, when her neck is elevated to
its utmost pitch, is fully eight feet in height. They were
both, formerly, in the possession of the late Marchioness
of Londonderry, on whose death they were presented to
the Society, by the Marquis of Lothian, in the spring of
the present year. — Menag. Zool. Society.

From the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal.

(ESTRUS HOMINIS,

Or the Larva of a Gad-Fly, luhich deposits its Eggs in
the Bodies of the Human Species.

An accurate knowledge of the natural history of the
genus CEstrus, (gad-fly or breeze) is of great importance in
an economical point of view, when we consider that the
most valuable of our domestic animals, the horse, ox, and
sheep, form the usual nidus for their development and in-
crease, and are frequently incommoded, sometimes essen-
tially injured, or even destroyed, by their attacks. The
insect called botts by farriers, is the larva of the CEstrus
Equi, and, although Mr. Bracy Clark (to whom we owe
the best account of that and other species of the genus) con-
cludes that, upon the whole, they are not injurious to the
horse, it appears from the accounts of Valisnieri, that the
epidemic which proved so fatal to the horses of the Man-
tuan and Veronese territories during the year 1713, was
primarily occasioned by these larvae. The disease called
staggers in sheep is likewise occasioned by an insect of
this genus, [CEstrus ovis) and the hides of cattle are per-
forated by another kind, which lives beneath the skin.
The reindeer of the Laplanders, which has been said to
unite in one animal the useful qualities of many, is more
than almost any other a martyr to a species of gad-fly,
probably peculiar to itself, and therefore named by natural-
ists CEstrus Tarandi.

That man himself, the "Lord of the Creation," should
be the subject of similar attacks, is not so generally known.
Humboldt, however, mentions, that he examined several
South American Indians, whose abdomens were covered
with small tumors, produced by what he inferred (for no
very positive information seems to have been acquired on
the subject) to have been the larva?, of some species of
Qistrus. Larvfe of analogous forms have also been detected
in the frontal and maxillary sinuses of Europeans; and the
surgical and physiological journals of our own and other

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

countries, have reported extraordinary instances of flies,
beetles, &c. working out their way from different parts of
the human frame.

Air. Clark mentions a case in which the gad-fly of the ox
appears to have left its accustomed prey, and deposited its
eggs in the jaw of a woman, who eventually died of disease
produced by the botts which sprung from the eggs. Leeu-
wenhoeck obtained maggots from a glandular swelling on
the leg of a woman. These he fed with flesh till they
assumed tlie pupa state, and afterwards produced a perfect
insect as large as a flesh-fly. Lempriere, in his work on
the Diseases of the Jlrniy in Jamaica, records the case of
a lady, who, after recovering from a dangerous fever, died
a victim to the maggots of a large blue fly, which sometimes
buzzes about the sick in the West Indies, and which, in
the case alluded to, made their way from the nose through
the OS cribrijorine, and so to the brain. A revolting in-
stance of scholechiasis is narrated in Bell's Weekly Mes-
senger, as quoted by Messrs. Kirby and Spence. A pauper,
of the name of Page, was in the habit of secreting the
remnants of his food betwixt his shirt and skin. On one
occasion, a piece of flesh was so concealed, when the poor
man was taken ill and laid himself down to repose in a
field in the parish of Scredington. The weather being hot,
the meat speedily became putrescent, and was hloiun by
the flies. The maggots, which were, of course, hatched
almost immediately, after devouring the meat, proceeded to
prey upon the body of the pauper, whose still living form,
when discovered by some neighbouring inhabitants, present-
ed a most appalling spectacle. He was carried to a surgeon,
but died a few hours after the first dressing of his wounds.
These, and other similar cases, ought not to be considered
so much in the light of ordinary or natural effects, as the
result of accidents produced by filth and disease. It is
otherwise, however, with the gad-flies, whose natural habit
appears to be to deposite their eggs beneath the skin, or
among the hairs of quadrupeds, in a healthy or unimpaired
condition. Although systematic authors have described an
CEstrus hominis, said to deposite its eggs beneath the
skin of man, and to produce ulcers, which sometimes prove
fatal, yet nothing seems to have been added of late to these
vague indications, in illustration of its real history.

The following is an authentic instance, which lately
occurred to our knowledge, and with the pai-ticulars of
which we were favoured by Dr. A. Hill, of Greenock.
George Killock, steward of the ship Cecilia, while in the
harbour of George Town, Demerara, during the month of
September, 1828, felt an extreme itching in a spot situated
on the lower and back part of the right arm, which he
frequently rubbed and scratched. The feeling was quite
different from that caused by the bite of the musquito or

sand-fly, with which he was sufficiently familiar. Ere
long, something like a boil or indolent tumour formed,
which occasioned great pain, as if a sharp instrument had
been thrust into the arm, or as if suppuration was going on
at the bones. This extreme pain came on periodically in
paroxysms, and the arm was poulticed for a length of time.
The swelling was not so great as to affect the movements
of the joint, and as there was no appearance of its coming
to a point, applications were given up. One day, about
five weeks after the commencement of the pain, Kellock
observed some bloody matter on his shirt sleeve, which he
showed to the captain, when the latter distinctly perceived
something in motion in the centre of a small orifice, which
had become apparent on the tumour. The motion increased,
till, to his surprise, the head of an insect protruded itself;
and this it continued to do daily, though the animal was
observed to withdraw into its burrow when any one came
near, or even pointed at it. The pain at this time was so
acute as to cause sickness. The chamber of the insect
seemed exactly to fit its body, and merely admitted of its
motions outwards and inwards. It occasionally discharged
a quantity of blood-coloured matter. Many attempts were
made to seize it, but it always instantly retreated, and the
captain, not knowing but that it partook of the nature of
the Guinea worm, with which he was well acquainted, was
fearful of a forced extraction, lest it should break asunder,
and leave a principal portion in the wound. However, it
was observed to protrude more and more of its body every
day, and, upon one occasion, it came out to the length of
more than an inch. At last it dropt out of its own accord
upon the cabin-floor, with a noise resembling that which a
pebble would make on falling on the ground. It kept mo-
ving and turning about for some time, like an earth-worm,
but, ere long, shrunk into nearly half its previous size. The
atmosphere was at this time cool, the ship being within
a week's sail of Greenock. The insect lived for three days,
and was then put into spirits, after which it shrunk still
more. Calculating from the period at which the itching
was first felt, it had lived in Killock's arm, in the larva
state, for about six weeks. The wound healed readily,
leaving externally the appearance of a small scar.

In the 12th edition of the S)/sfe?na Natitrx, there is no
mention of this insect. Gmelin, however, says, that it
dwells beneath the skin of the abdomen six months, pene-
trating deeper if it be disturbed, and becoming so dangerous
as sometimes to occasion death. In Dr. Turton's General
Syste77i of Nature, there is the following notice of this
insect, or of one of which the habits are similar. '^CEstrus
ho7ninis. Body entirely brown. Inhabits South America,
Linne ap. Pall, No7-d. Beytr. p. 157. Deposites its eggs
under the skin, on the bellies of the natives; the larva, if

80 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

it be disturbed, penetrates deeper, and produces an ulcer sleeve of a pedestrian, works its way in a direction oppo-

which frequently becomes fatal." site to that to which its beard is directed.

We are informed that Killock, previous to this attack,

while at work, usually wore his shirt-sleeves rolled up As further testimony to the above, the following is copied

above his elbows; and that, while in George Town, Deme- J°™ the Journal of the Academy of Natural Sciences of

rara, he generally slept on deck. It is easy then to sup- Philadelphia, being an extract of a letter from a genUeman

pose, that the (Estrus, or parent fly, had availed itself of a f™"^ ^^^ose leg this larva was extracted,

proper opportunitj' to deposite its egg upon his arm, proba- '« After a very sultry day's march, and being very much

blj- by a slight puncture of the skin, by means of the ovi- fatigued, I went to bathe in the Chama, a small stream

positor with which it is furnished. When the larva had emptying in the lagoon of Maracaibo. Not long after

attained its full size, it dropped out, instinctively searching coming out of the water, I received a sting from some insect,

for a covering of natural earth, in which to undergo the in the left leg, over the upper and forepart of the tibia; it

intermediate state of pupa, which it is destined to assume was several days attended with a considerable degree of

for a time before it becomes a winged insect. The instinct itching, but without any pain, and I continued on my

of the parent, however admirable under ordinary circum- journey some few days longer, without experiencing much

stances, was, of course, insufficient to provide against the inconvenience, except during several periods of perhaps

accident of Killock's being a seafaring man,— and the larva two or three minutes continuance, when an acute pain came

could not have attained the perfect state, for want of the on suddenly, and was severe whilst it continued, and then

proper nidus in which the pupa is accustomed to repose.
Had a flower-pot, containing earth, been on board the ves-
sel, the different changes of the insect might have been
observed, and our knowledge of the species completed. As
it is, we are acquainted with the larva alone. Its descrip-
tion is as follows: —

Length, in its present shrivelled condition, seven-tenths

as suddenly subsided. On my arrival and during my con-
tinuance at II Rosario de Cucuta, I walked witli difficulty;
there was a considerable tumefaction over the tibia, which
had the appearance of an oi'dinary bile, (Phlegmon) in the
centre there was a small black speck; the usual applications
were used without any success, and the tumour became
more irritated and inflamed, and thus it remained for some

of an inch; circumference round the centre, or thickest days, attended at times with a most acute pain, which, for

part, one inch; colour pale dingy apple-green, tinged with a few minutes was almost intolerable.
brown. The mouth appears to have been somewhat tubu- " In returning to JNIaracaibo, I had to descend the Cotta-

lar, but is furnished on its upper part with a pair of sharp, tumba in an open boat, without any shelter, and being wet

minute, hooked crotchets, of a shining black colour, pro- to the skin by the cold rains which fell every night, I suf-

bably for the purpose of adhering more firmly to the spot fered much, and was almost constantly tormented by the

from which it was desirous to draw its food. The eyes tumour, which became more painful at those particular pe-

are large and prominent; their colour brown. The body is riods than usual; during this passage, which lasted for twelve

composed of nine rings or segments, exclusive of the head days, I was induced to scarify it, and had recourse to the

and anal portion. There are thus, in all, eleven segments, usual topical applications, but without success. At times I

besides the mouth, the exact number of which the larvje of imagined that I felt something moving, and suspected that

the European species consist. There are no feet. These there was something alive beneath the skin,
organs are, however, obviously supplied by transverse cir- « After my return to Maracaibo I became scarcely able

cles of small black spines or hooks, with which the princi- to walk, and was in a manner confined to my quarters. In

pal segments of the body are furnished; and, besides these, this situation I continued two weeks longer, the tumour

there are several rounded unequal protuberances on the back having began to discharge, and without any diminution of

and sides. The latter are possibly produced or rendered the painful periods.

more apparent, by the decrease of size which has taken « Being now nearly worried out, it occurred to me to

place. Supposing these minute spinous hooks to be, along try a poultice of tobacco, which was used for several nights,

with the skin, under the control of muscular action, (and having previously scarified the tumour; during the day, I

Lyonnet has beautifully exhibited the complicated muscular frequently dusted it with ashes of segars: as an ingredient,

structure of another larva,) then, according to the direction I used rum instead of water, in making the poultice. On

in which the hooks are pointed, a wriggling motion would the fourth morning after this remedy, I felt considerable

produce either outward or inward progression, and serve relief, and on the fifth, with a forceps, I drew out the worm

all the purposes of locomotive organs, just as (to use a which you have now in your possession, and which was

familiar illustration) an ear of barley placed within the then dead.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

81

'< In a few days the sore assumed a healthy look, and in
ten days was perfectly healed up — although, at times, I
yet experience a heavy pain in the part from whence the
worm has been taken. It had travelled on the periosteum,
along the tibia for at least two inches. The severe pain
which I experienced for those periods, I attribute to the
irritation of some of the branches of the nerves distributed
to the parts by the worm in its progress. Respecting this
worm there are diflerent opinions among the Spaniards and
Creoles. Ouche is the name it is called by some, who say
it is produced by a worm which crawls on the body, from
the ground, and penetrating the skin, increases in size.
Others maintain that they are produced from the sting of a
winged insect which they call Zancudo, others call the
insect Husano; for my part I am rather inclined to think
that they are produced from the sting of a winged insect
which deposites its egg."

Larva of OEslrus Hominis.

THE VOICES OF BIRDS.

RiTRAx sounds, the voices, the language of the wild crea-
tures, as heard by the naturalist, belong to, and are in
concord with the country only. Our sight, our smell, may
perhaps be deceived for an interval by conservatories, hor-
ticultural arts, and bowers of sweets; but our hearing can
in no way be beguiled by any semblance of what is heard
in the grove or the field. The hum, the murmur, the
medley of the mead, is peculiarly its own, admits of no
imitation, and the voices of our birds convey particular
intimation, and distinctly notify the various periods of the
year, with an accuracy as certain as they are detailed in our
calendars. The season of spring is always announced as
approaching by the notes of the rookery, by the jangle or
wooing accents of the dark frequenters of its trees; and
that time having passed away, these contentions and ca-
dences are no longer heard. The cuckoo then comes, and
informs us that spring has arrived; that he has journeyed
to us, borne by gentle gales in sunny days; that fragrant
flowers are in the copse and the mead, and all things telling
of gratulation and of joy: the children mark this well-
known sound, spring out, and cuckoo! cuckoo! as they
gambol down the lane: the very plough-boy bids him wel-
come in the early morn. It is hardly spring without the
cuckoo's song; and having told his tale, he has voice for
X

no more — is silent or away. Then comes the dark, swift-
winged martin, glancing through the air, that seems afraid
to visit our uncertain clime: he comes, though late, and
hurries through his business here, eager again to depart,
all day long in agitation and precipitate flight. The bland
zephyrs of the spring have no charms with them; but bask-
ing and careering in the sultry gleams of June and July,
they associate in throngs, and, screaming, dash round the
steeple or the ruined tower, to serenade their nesting mates;
and glare and heat are in their train. When the fervour of
summer ceases, this bird of the sun will depart. The even-
ing robin, from the summit of some leafless bough, or pro-
jecting point, tells us that autumn is come, and brings
matured fruits, chilly airs, and sober hours, and he, the
lonely minstrel now that sings, is understood by all. These
four birds thus indicate a separate season, have no interfe-
rence with the intelligence of the other, nor could they be
transposed without the loss of all the meaning they convey,
which no contrivance of art could supply; and, by long
association, they have become identified with the period,
and in peculiar accordance with the time.

We note birds in general more from their voices than
their plumage; for the carols of spring may be heard in-
voluntarily, but to observe the form and decoration of these
creatures, requires an attention not always given. Yet we
have some native birds beautifully and conspicuously fea-
thered; the goldfinch, the chaffinch, the wagtails, are all
eminently adorned, and the fine gradations of sober browns
in several others, are very pleasing. Those sweet sounds,
called the song of birds, proceed only from the male; and,
with a few exceptions, only during the season of incuba-
tion. Hence the comparative quietness of our summer
months, when this care is over, except from accidental
causes, where a second nest is formed; few of our birds
bringing up more than one brood in the season. The red-
breast, blackbird, and thrush, in mild winters, may conti-
nually be heard, and form exceptions to the general
procedure of our British birds; and we have one little
bird, the woodlark, (alauda arborea) that, in the early parts
of the autumnal months delights us with its harmony, and
its carols may be heard in the air commonly during the
calm sunny mornings of this season. Thej' have a softness
and quietness, perfectly in unison with the sober, almost
melancholy, stillness of the hour. The skylark, also, sings
now, and its song is very sweet, full of harmony, cheerful
as the blue sky and gladdening beam in which it circles
and sports, and known and admired by all; but the voice
of the woodlark is local, not so generally heard, from its
softness must almost be listened for, to be distinguished,
and has not any pretensions to the hilarity of the former.
This little bird sings likewise in the spring; but, at that

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

season, the contending songsters of the grove, and the va-
riety of sound proceeding from every thing that has utter-
ance, confuse and almost render inaudible the placid voice
of the woodlark. It delights to fix its residence near little
groves and copses, or quiet pastures, and is a very unob-
trusive bird, not uniting in companies, but associating in
its own little family parties only, feeding in the woodlands
on seeds and insects. Upon the approach of man, it crouches
close to the ground, then suddenly darts away, as if for a
distant flight, but settles again almost immediately. This
lark will often continue its song, circle in the air, a scarcely
visible speck, by the hour together; and the vast distance
from which its voice reaches us in a calm day, is almost
incredible. In the scale of comparison, it stands imme-
diately below the nightingale in melody and plaintiveness;
but compass of voice is given to the linnet, a bird of very
inferior powers. The strength of the larynx and of the
muscles of the throat in birds, is infinitely greater than in
the human race. The loudest shout of the peasant is but a
feeble cry, compared with that of the golden-eyed duck,
the wild goose, or even this lark. The sweet song of this
poor little bird, with a fate like that of the nightingale,
renders it an object of capture and confinement, which few
of them comparatively survive. I have known our country
birdcatchers take them by a very simple but effectual me-
thod. Watching them to the ground, the wings of a hawk,
or of the brown owl, stretched out, are drawn against the
current of air by a string, as a paper kite, and made to
flutter and vibrate like a kestrel, over the place where
the woodlark has lodged; which so intimidates the bird,
that it remains crouchmg, and motionless as a stone, on
the ground ; a hand-net is brought over it, and it is
caught.

From various little scraps of intelligence scattered
through the sacred and ancient writings, it appears certain,
as it was reasonable to conclude, that the notes now used
by birds, and the voices of animals, are the same as uttered
by their earliest progenitors. The language of man, with-
out any reference to the confusion accomplished at Babel,
has been broken into innumerable dialects, created or com-
pounded as his wants occurred, or his ideas prompted; or
obtained by intercourse with others, as mental enlargement
or novelty necessitated new words to express new senti-
ments. Could we find a people from Japan or the Pole,
whose progress in mind has been stationary, without in-
crease of idea, from national prejudice or impossibility of
communication with others, we probably should find little
or no alteration in the original language of that people; so,
by analogy of reasoning, the animal, having no idea to
prompt, no new want to express, no converse with others,
(for a note caught and uttered merely, is like a boy mock-

ing the cuckoo,) so no new language is acquired. With
civilized man, every thing is progressive; with animals,
where there is no mind, all is stationary. Even the voice
of one species of birds, except in particular cases, seems
not to be attended to by another species. That peculiar
call of the female cuckoo, which assembles so many con-
tending lovers, and all the various amatorial and caressing
language of others, excites no influence generally, that I
am aware of; with all but the individual species, it is a
dialect unknown. I know but one note, which animals
make use of, that seems of universal comprehension, and
this is the signal of danger. The instant that it is uttered,
we hear the whole flock, though composed of various spe-
cies, repeat a separate moan, and away they all scuttle into
the bushes for safety. The reiterated " twink, twink" of
the chaffinch, is known by every little bird, as information
of some prowling cat or weasel. Some give the maternal
hush to their young, and mount to inquire into the jeopardy
announced. The wren, that tells of perils from the hedge,
soon collects about her all the various inquisitive species
within hearing, to survey and ascertain the object, and add
their separate fears. The swallow, that shrieking darts in
devious flight through the air, when a hawk appears, not
only calls up all the hirundines of the village, but is instantly
understood by every finch and sparrow, and its warning
attended to. As nature, in all her ordinations, had a fixed
design and foreknowledge, it may be that each species had
a separate voice assigned it, that each might continue as
created, distinct and unmixed: and the very few deviations
and admixtures that have taken place, considering the lapse
of time, association, and opportunity, united with the pro-
hibition of continuing accidental deviations, are very
remarkable, and indicate a cause and original motive.
That some of the notes of birds are, as language, designed
to convey a meaning, is obvious, from the very different
sounds uttered by these creatures at particular periods: the
spring voices become changed as summer advances, and
the acquirements of the early season have ceased; the sum-
mer excitements, monitions, informations, are not needed
in autumn, and the notes conveying such intelligences are
no longer heard. The periodical calls of animals, croaking
of frogs, &c. afford the same reasons for concluding that
the sound of their voices by elevation, depression, or mo-
dulation, conveys intelligence equivalent to an uttered
sentence. The voices of birds seem applicable in most
instances to the immediate necessities of their condition;
such as the sexual call, the invitation to unite when dis-
persed, the moan of danger, the shriek of alarm, the notice
of food. But there are other notes, the designs and motives
of which are not so obvious. One sex only is gifted with
the power of singing, for the purpose, as Buffbn supposed,

A^fD AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

of cheering his mate during the period of incubation; but
this idea, gallant as it is, has such slight foundation in
probability, that it needs no confutation: and, after all,
perhaps, we must conclude, that, listened to, admired, and
pleasing, as the voices of many birds are, either for their
intrinsic melody, or from association, we are uncertain what
they express, or the object of their song. The singing of
most birds seems entirely a spontaneous effusion produced
by no exertion, or occasioning no lassitude in muscle, or
relaxation of the parts of action. In certain seasons and
weather, the nightingale sings all day, and most part of the
night; and we never observe that tlie powers of song are
weaker, or that the notes become harsh and untunable,
after all these hours of practice. The song-thrush, in a
mild moist April, will commence his tune early in the
morning, pipe unceasingly through the day, yet, at the
close of eve, when he retires to rest, there is no obvious
decay of his musical powers, or any sensible effort required
to continue his harmony to the last. Birds of one species
sing, in general, very like each other, with different degrees
of execution. Some counties may produce finer songsters,
but without great variation in the notes. In the thrush,
however, it is remarkable, that there seems to be no regu-
lar notes, each individual piping a voluntary of his own.
Their voices may always be distinguished amid the choris-
ters of the copse, yet some one performer will more particu-
larly engage attention by a peculiar modulation or tune; and
should several stations of these birds be visited in the same
morning, few or none probably will be found to preserve
the same round of notes; whatever is uttered, seeming the
effusion of the moment. At times a strain will break out
perfectly unlike any preceding utterance, and we may wait
a long time without noticing any repetition of it. During
one spring, an individual song-thrush, frequenting a favour-
ite copse, after a certain round of tune, trilled out most
regularly, some notes that conve3red so clearly the words,
lady-bird! lady-bird! that every one remarked the resem-
blance. He survived the winter, and in the ensuing season
the lady-bird ! lady-bird ! was still the burden of our even-
ing song; it then ceased, and we never heard this pretty
modulation more. Though merely an occasional strain,
yet I have noticed it elsewhere — it thus appearing to be a
favourite utterance. Harsh, strained, and tense, as the
notes of this bird are, yet they are pleasing from their
variety. The voice of the blackbird is iniinitely more
mellow, but has much less variety, compass, or execution;
and he, too, commences his carols with the morning light,
persevering from hour to hour without effort, or any sensi-
ble faltering of voice. The cuckoo wearies us throughout
some long May morning, with the unceasing monotony of its
song; and, though there are others as vociferous, yet it is the

only bird I know that seems to suffer from the use of the
organs of voice. Little exertion as the few notes it makes
use of, seem to require, yet, by the middle or end of June,
it loses its utterance, becomes hoarse, and ceases from any
further essay of it. The croaking of the nightingale in
June, or the end of May, is not apparently occasioned by
the loss of voice, but a change of note, a change of object;
his song ceases when his mate has hatched her brood; vigi-
lance, anxiety, caution, now succeed to harmony, and his
croak is the hush, the warning of danger or suspicion to
the infant charge and the mother bird.

But here I must close my notes of birds, lest their actions
and their ways, so various and so pleasing, should lure me
on to protract

" My tedious tale through many a page;"

for I have always been an admirer of these elegant crea-
tures, their notes, their nests, their eggs, and all the eco-
nomy of their lives; nor have we throughout the orders of
creation, any beings that so continually engage our atten-
tion as these our feathered companions. Winter takes from
us all the gay world of the meads, the sylphs that hover
over our flowers, that steal our sweets, that creep, or
gently wing their way in glittering splendour around us;
and of all the miraculous creatures that sported their hour
in the sunny beam, the winter gnat alone remains to
frolic in some rare and partial gleam. The myriads of
the pool are dormant, or hidden from our sight; the quad-
rupeds, few and wary, veil their actions in the glooms of
night, and we see little of them; but birds are with us
always, they give a character to spring, and are identified
with it; they enchant and amuse us all summer long with
their sports, animation, hilarity and glee; they cluster
round us, suppliant in the winter of our year, and, unre-
pining through cold and want, seek their scanty meal
amidst the refuse of the barn, the stalls of the cattle, or at
the doors of our house; or, flitting hungry from one de-
nuded and bare spray to another, excite our pity and
regard; their lives are patterns of gaiety, cleanliness, ala-
crity, and joy. — Jour, of a Naturalist.

ANTS AND ANT-BEARS

OF SOUTH AMERICA.

In the far-extending wilds of Guiana, the traveller will
be astonished at the immense quantity of Ants which he
perceives on the ground and in the trees. They have nests
in the branches, four or five times as large as that of the
rook; and they have a covered way from them to the

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

ground. In this covered way thousands are perpetually-
passing and repassing; and if you destroy part of it, they
turn to, and immediately repair it.

Other species of Ants again have no covered way; but
travel, exposed to view, upon the surface of the earth.
You will sometimes see a string of these Ants a mile long,
each carrying in its mouth to its nest a green leaf, the size
of a sixpence. It is wonderful to observe the order in which
they move, and with what pains and labour they surmount
the obstructions of the path.

The Ants have their enemies, as well as the rest of ani-
mated nature. Amongst the foremost of these stand the
three species of Ant-bears. The smallest is not much larger
than a rat; the next is nearly the size of a fox; and the
third a stout and powerful animal, measuring above six
feet from the snout to the end of the tail. He is the most
inoffensive of all animals, and never injures the property
of man. He is chiefly found in the inmost recesses of the
forest, and seems partial to the low and swampy parts near
creeks, where the Troely tree grows. There he goes up
and down in quest of Ants, of which there is never the
least scarcity; so that he soon obtains a sufficient supply of
food, with very little trouble. He cannot travel fast; man
is superior to him in speed. Without swiftness to enable
him to escape from his enemies, without teeth, the posses-
sion of which would assist him in self-defence, and without
the power of burrowing in the ground, by which he might
conceal himself from his pursuers, he still is capable of
ranging through these wilds in perfect safety; nor does he
fear the fatal pressure of the serpent's fold, or the teeth of
the famished Jaguar. Nature has formed his fore-legs won-
derfully thick, and strong, and muscular, and armed his
feet with three tremendous sharp and crooked claws.
Whenever he seizes an animal with these formidable wea-
pons, he hugs it close to his body, and keeps it there till
it dies through pressure, or through want of food. Nor
does the Ant-bear, in the mean time, suffer much from loss
of aliment, as it is a well-known fact, that he can go
longer without food than, perhaps, any other animal, ex-
cept the land tortoise. His skin is of a texture that perfectly
resists tlie bite of a dog; his hinder parts are protected by
thick and shaggy hair, while his immense tail is large
enough to cover his whole body.

Examine a figure of this animal, in books of natural histo-
ry, or inspect a stuffed specimen in the best museums, and
you will see that the fore-claws are just in the same forward
attitude, as those of a dog, or a common bear, when he
walks or stands. But this is a distorted and unnatural
position; and, in life, would be a painful and intolerable
attitude for the Ant-bear. The length and curve of his

claws cannot admit of such a position. When he walks or
stands, his feet have somewhat the appearance of a club-
hand. He goes entirely on the outer side of his fore-feet,
which are quite bent inwards; the claws collected into a
point, and going under the foot. In this position he is
quite at ease; while his long claws are disposed of in a
manner to render them harmless to him, and arc prevented
from becoming dull and worn, like those of the dog, which
would inevitably be the case, did their points come in ac-
tual contact with the ground; for his claws have not that
retractile power which is given to animals of the feline
species, by which they are enabled to preserve the sharp-
ness of their claws on the most flinty path. A slight in-
spection of the fore-feet of the Ant-bear, will immediately
convince you of the mistake artists and naturalists have
fallen into, by putting his fore-feet in the same position as
that of other quadrupeds; for you will perceive that the
whole outer side of his foot is not only deprived of
hair, but is hard and callous; proof positive of its being
in perpetual contact with the ground. Now, on the con-
trary, the inner side of the bottom of his foot is soft and
rather hairy.

There is another singularity in the anatomy of the Ant-
bear, I believe, as yet unnoticed in the page of natural
history. He has two very large glands situated below the
root of the tongue. From these is emitted a glutinous
liquid, with which his long tongue is lubricated when he
puts into the ants' nests. These glands are of the same
substance as those found in the lower jaw of the wood-
pecker. The secretion from them, when wet, is very
clammy and adhesive, but, on being dried, it loses these
qualities, and you can pulverize it betwixt your finger and
thumb; so that, in dissection, if any of it has got upon the
fur of the animal, or the feathers of the bird, allow it to
dry there, and then it may be removed without leaving
the least stain behind.

The Ant-bear is a pacific animal. He is never the first
to begin the attack. His motto maybe, "Noli me tan-
gere." As his habits and his haunts differ materially from
those of every other animal in the forest, their interests
never clash, and thus he might live to a good old age, and
die at last in peace, were it not that his flesh is good food.
On this account, the Indian wages perpetual war against
him, and as he cannot escape by flight, he falls an easy
prey to the poisoned arrow, shot from the Indian's bow at
a distance. If ever he be closely attacked by dogs, he
immediately throws himself on his back, and if he be for-
tunate enough to catch hold of his enemy with his tremen-
dous claws, the invader is sure to pay for his rashness
with the loss of life. — fVaterton.

4

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

MEADOW LARK.

may be found in market. They are generally considered,
for size and delicacy, little inferior to the quail, or what
is here usually called the partridge, and valued accord-
ingly. I once met with a few of these birds in the month
of February, during a deep snow, among the heights of
the Alleghany, between Shippensburgh and Somerset,
gleaning on the road, in company with the small snow-
birds. In the States of South Carolina and Georgia, at the
same season of the year, they swarm among the rice plan-
tations, running about the yards and out-houses, accompa-
nied by the Kildeers, with little appearance of fear, as if
quite domesticated.

These birds, after the building season is over, collect in
flocks; but seldom fly in a close compact body; their flight
is something in the manner of the grouse and partridge,
laborious and steady; sailing, and renewing the rapid action
of the wings alternately. When they alight on trees or
bushes, it is generally on the tops of the highest branches,
whence they send forth a long, clear, and somewhat melan-
choly note, that, in sweetness and tenderness of expression,
is not surpassed by any of our numerous warblers. This
is sometimes followed by a kind of low, rapid chattering, the
particular call of the female; and again the clear and plaintive

JILJIUBA MAGNA.

[Plate VIII.— Winter Plumage.]

Linn. Syst. 2S9.— Crescent Stare, Arct. Zool. 330. No.
192. — Latham, hi. 6. Var. A. — Le Fer-a-cheval, ou
Merle a Collier d' Amerique, Buff. hi. p. 371. —
Catesb. Car. i. pi. 33. — Bartram, p. 290. — Alauda
magna, Linn. Syst. i. p. 167. Ed. 10. — Gmel. Syst.

I. p. 801. — Merula Americana torquata, Briss. Av.

II. p. 242. No. 15. — (Summer dress.) Sturnus ludo-
vicianus, Linn. Syst. i. p. 290. — Gmel. Syst. i. p.
802. — Brisson, II. p. 449. 4. /. 42. / 1. — Lath. Ind.
Orn. I. 323. — Etoiirneau de la Louisiane. — Buff. hi.

p. 192. — PI. Enl. 256. — J. Doughty's Collection.

Though this well-known species cannot boast of the
powers of song which distinguish that " harbinger of day,"
the Sky Lark of Europe, yet in richness of plumage, as
well as in sweetness of voice (as far as his few notes ex-
tend), he stands eminently its superior. He differs from
the greater part of his tribe in wanting the long straight strain is repeated as before. They afford tolerable good
hind claw, which is probably the reason why he has been amusement to the sportsman, being most easily shot while
classed, by some late naturalists, with the Starlings. But on wing; as they frequently squat among the long grass,
in the particular form of his bill, in his manners, plumage, and spring within gunshot. The nest of this species is built
mode and place of building his nest, nature has clearly generally in, or below, a thick tuft or tussock of grass; it
pointed out his proper family. is composed of dry grass, and fine bent laid at bottom, and

v^'ound all around, leaving an arched entrance level with
the ground ; the inside is lined with fine stalks of the same
materials, disposed with great regularity. The eggs are
four, sometimes five, white, marked with specks, and seve-
ral large blotches of reddish brown, chiefly at the thick
end. Their food consists of caterpillars, grub worms,
beetles, and grass seeds; with a considerable proportion of
gravel. Their general name is the Meadow Lark; among
feed. They are rarely or never seen in the depth of the the Virginians they are usually called the Old Field Lark.
woods; unless where, instead of underwood, the ground is The length of this bird is ten inches and a half, extent
covered with rich grass, as in the Choctaw and Chickasaw sixteen and a half; throat, breast, belly, and line from the
countries, where I met with them in considerable numbers
in the months of May and June. The extensive and luxu-
riant prairies between Vincennes and St Louis also abound
with them.

It is probable that in the more rigorous regions of the
north they may be birds of passage, as they are partially so
here; though I have seen them among the meadows of New each side by a stripe of black intermixed with bay, and
Jersey, and those that border the rivers Delaware and another line of yellowish white passes over each eye back-
Schuylkill, in all seasons; even when the ground was wards; cheeks bluish white, back and rest of the upper
deeply covered with snow. There is scarcely a market parts beautifully variegated with black, bright bay, and
day in Philadelphia, from September to March, but thev pale ochre: tail wedged, the feathers neatly pointed, the
Y

This species has a very extensive range; having myself
found them in Upper Canada, and in each of the States from
New Hampshire to New Orleans. Mr. Bartram also in-
forms me that they are equally abundant in East Florida.
Their favourite places of retreat are pasture fields and
meadows, particularly the latter, which have conferred on
them their specific name; and no doubt supplies them abun-
dantly with the particular seeds and insects on which they

eye to the nostrils, rich yellow; inside lining and edge of
the wing the same; an oblong crescent, of deep velvetty
black, ornaments the lower part of the throat; lesser wing-
coverts black, broadly bordered with pale ash; rest of the
wing feathers light brown, handsomely serrated with black;
a line of yellowish white divides the crown, bounded on

86

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

four outer ones on each side, nearly all white; sides, thighs,
and vent pale yellow ochre, streaked with black; upper
mandible brown, lower bluish white; eyelids furnished with
strong black hairs: legs and feet very large, and of a pale
flesh colour.

The female has the black crescent more skirted with
grey, and not of so deep a black. In the rest of her mark-
ings, the plumage differs little from that of the male. I
must here take notice of a mistake committed by Mr. Ed-
wards, in his History of Birds, Vol. VI. p. 123, where,
on the authority of a bird dealer of London, he describes
the Calandre Lark (a native of Italy and Russia), as belong-
ing also to North America, and having been brought from
Carolina. I can say with confidence, that in all my excur-
sions through that and the rest of the southern States, I
never met such a bird, nor any person who had ever seen
it. I have no hesitation in believing that the Calandre is
not a native of the United States.

SNOW-BIRD.

FRINGILLA HUDSONM.

[Plate VIIL]

Fringilla Hudsonia, Turton, Syst. i. 56S. — Emberiza
hyemalis, Id. 531. — Lath. i. 66. — Catesbv, i. 36. —
Jlrct. Zool. p. 359, No. 223. — Passer nivalis, Bar-
tram, /;. 291. — Fringilla hyemalis, Linn. Syst. Ed.
10, I. ]}. 183, 30. — J. Doughty's Collection.

This well-known species, small and insignificant as it
may appear, is by far the most numerous, as well as the
most extensively disseminated, of all the feathered tribes
that visit us from the frozen regions of the north. Their
migrations extending from the arctic circle, and probably
beyond it, to the shores of the gulf of Mexico, spreading
over the whole breadth of the United States, from the
Atlantic Ocean to Louisiana; how much farther westward
I am unable to say. About the twentieth of October, they
make their first appearance in those parts of Pennsylvania
east of the Alleghany mountains. At first they are most
generally seen on the borders of woods, among the falling
and decayed leaves, in loose flocks of thirty or forty toge-
ther, always taking to the trees when disturbed. As the
weather sets in colder, they approach nearer the farm-house
and villages; and, on the appearance of what is usually
called falling weather, assemble in larger flocks, and seem
doubly diligent in searching for food. This increased acti-
vity is generally a sure prognostic of a storm. When deep
snow covers the ground, they become "'most half domesti-

cated. They collect about the barn, stables, and other
outhouses, spread over the yard, and even round the steps
of the door; not only in the country and villages, but in
the heart of our large cities; crowding around the threshold
early in the morning, gleaning up the crumbs; appearing
very lively and familiar. They have also recourse, at
this severe season, when the face of the earth is shut up
from them, to the seeds of many kinds of weeds, that still
rise above the snow, in corners of fields, and low shel-
tered situations, along the borders of creeks and fences,
where they associate with several species of Sparrows.
They are, at this time, easily caught with almost any kind
of traps; are generally fat, and, it is said, are excellent
eating.

I cannot but consider this bird as the most numerous of
its tribe of any within the United States. From the north-
ern parts of the district of Maine, to the Ogechee river in
Georgia, a distance, by the circuitous route in which I tra-
velled, of more than 1800 miles, I never passed a day, and
scarcely a mile, without seeing numbers of these birds, and
frequently large flocks of several thousands. Other tra-
vellers, with whom I conversed, who had come from
Lexington, in Kentucky, through Virginia, also declared
that they found these birds numerous along the whole road.
It should be observed, that the road sides are their favour-
ite haunts, where many rank weeds that grow along the
fences, furnish them with food, and the road with gravel.
In the vicinity of places where they were most numerous,
I observed the small Hawk, {Falco sparverius) and seve-
ral others of his tribe, watching their opportunity, or
hovering cautiously around, making an occasional sweep
among them, and retiring to the bare branches of an old
cypress, to feed on their victim. In the month of April,
when the weather begins to be warm, they are observed to
retreat to the woods; and to prefer the shaded sides of
hills and thickets; at which time the males warble out a
few very low sweet notes; and are almost perpetually pur-
suing and fighting with each other. About the twentieth
of April they take their leave of our humble regions, and
retire to the north, and to the high ranges of the Alleghany,
to build their nests, and rear their young. In some of those
ranges, in the interior of Virginia, and northward, about
the waters of the west branch of the Susquehanna, they
breed in great numbers. The nest is fixed in the ground,
or among the grass, sometimes several being within a small
distance of each other. According to the observations of
the gentlemen residing at Hudson's bay factory, they arrive
there about the beginning of June, stay a week or two,
and proceed farther north to breed. They return to that
settlement in the autumn on their way to the south.

In some parts of New England I found the opinion

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

«t

pretty general, that the Snow-bird in summer is transform-
ed into the small Chipping Sparrow, which we find so
common in that season. I had convinced a gentleman of
New York of his mistake in this matter, by taking him to
the house of a Mr. Gautier, there, who amuses himself by
keeping a great number of native as well as foreign birds.
This was in the month of July, and the Snow-bird appeared
there in the same coloured plumage he usually has. Several
individuals of the Chipping Sparrow were also in the same
apartment. The evidence was therefore irresistible; but as
I had not the same proofs to offer to the eye in New Eng-
land, I had not the same success.

There must be something in the temperature of the blood
or constitution of this bird, which unfits it for residing,
during summer, in the lower parts of the United States; as
the country here abounds with a great variety of food, of
which, during its stay here, it appears to be remarkably
fond. Or, perhaps, its habit of associating in such numbers

to breed, and building its nest with so little precaution,
may, to insure its safety, require a solitary region, far from
the intruding footsteps of man.

The Snow-bird is six inches long, and nine in extent,
the head, neck, and upper parts of the breast, body, and
wings, are of a deep slate colour; the plumage sometimes
skirted with brown, which is the colour of the young birds;
the lower parts of the breast, the whole belly and vent, are
pure white; the three secondary quill feathers next the body
are edged with brown, the primaries with white; the tail
is dusky slate, a little forked, the two exterior feathers
wholly white, which are flirted out as it flies, and appear
then very prominent; the bill and legs are of a reddish
flesh colour; the eye bluish black. The female differs
from the male in being considerably more brown. In the
depth of winter the slate colour of the male becomes more
deep and much purer, the brown disappearing nearly alto-
gether.

SNIPE SHOOTING.

The season for shooting Snipe, commences in March,
and generally continues until the middle of April, and
when the birds are plentiful, affords considerable amuse-
ment, and not a little toil, to the sportsman.

So soon as the warm and genial influence of approaching
spring, begins to revive mankind to activity, after the
paralizing effects of winter, then it is that these birds make
their appearance among us, while on their journey to the
north; and, although poor on their first arrival, soon become
fat by means of the rich feeding grounds, which lie adja-
cent to this city, and are objects of eager pursuit, both

by sportsmen and market dealers. The shooting campalgi,
for the current year, opens on this species of game, and
new zest being given for this favourite amusement, by the
idleness of winter, multitudes of shooters are ready to take
the field, in a general war of extermination, against these
innocent visitants, so soon as their approach is known. On
all the low grounds, which border the rivers Delaware and
Schuylkill, may be seen, gunners of every age and class,
armed with the unwieldy, rusty musket, to the superb
double percussion gun, some for the recreative pleasure
which the exercise produces, others as a source of profit;
and again, those, who wish to while away the tedium of
an idle life.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

Shooting Snipe dexterously, has always been considered
a difficult point to attain, and requires not only excellent
judgment, but much deliberation. The silent and rapid
manner which this bird springs from the ground, and the
zig-zag figure of its flight, oftentimes disappoints expert
shots, and puts them in doubt of their proficiency in the
science. I have known excellent shots at other objects,
miss Snipe five or six times in succession, but it is gene-
rally attributable to the common fault of shooting too
soon.

In rising from the ground, the Snipe springs to the height
of five or six feet, and darts ofl" in a zig-zag manner, at the
commencement of which it utters a sound similar to the
word scape, and after continuing in this way for a distance,
perhaps, of twentj^ yards, directs a straight course, gradu-
ally ascending, until it reaches a certain height in the air,
when a few circuitous flights are performed, until another
spot to settle is fixed upon; this determined, it gradually
descends, and when near the earth, drops of a sudden in
the grass. Owing to this habit of alighting, many unskilled
persons are deceived, thinking it to be the effect of a mortal
wound which causes the sudden stop, but on approaching
the spot where it settles, to their amazement, find the bird
will rise as freely as before.

Our Snipe, although different in appearance from the
JacA;-Snipe of England, is similar to it in habit, especially
in this manner of alighting on the ground, and the follow-
ing anecdoie, related by Thornhill, in his Shooting Direc-
tory, may not be inappropriatcl)^ inserted here, as tending
to show the disappointment of many, when in pursuit of
this game. He says, " a most curious circumstance occur-
red respecting a Jack-Snipe, that was sprung several times
by a Mr. Molloy, formerly a quarter-master of the 64th
regiment, while he was quartered at Geneva barracks,
Ireland, is worth relating: He regularly, after his duty was
done, or if he could possibly obtain leave for a day, used
to equip himself for shooting, and always sprung this Jack-
Snipe, at which he fired, and followed, and the bird used
to pitch so close to him at times, that he was confident he
had shot it, and used to run to take it up, when, to his
great surprise, it would rise, and fly a little farther; he
actually acknowledged he fired, one day, eighteen times
at this bird, and, after shooting at it for the whole season,
he happened to be crossing the bog it lay in, when he put
it up, and exclaiming, "there's my old friend," threw his
stick at it, and killed it on the spot; whenever after, any
of his brother officers found a Jack-Snipe, they were
always sure to say, "there goes Quartermaster Molloy."

The proper manner of hunting Snipe is with the wind,
as they not only lie much closer for the sportsman,
but having great aversion to the wind acting against their

feathers, will, immediately after rising, head the wind,
and present a convenient cross shot, and should they be
plentiful, it is most advisable to hunt them without dogs,
as the sportsman can spring them himself with all conve-
nience. It is also important to success, to reserve the
fire until the irregularity of their flight is over, which
rarely exceeds twenty yards, and this being point blank
distance, will enable the shooter to kill his object, not only
with greater certainty, but more satisfaction.

At times, the Snipe are exceedingly shy, and difficult to
approach, frequently springing up beyond the reach of your
shot, and again so tranquil as not to fly until almost trod-
den upon; satisfactory reasons for this difference have never
yet, to my knowledge, been presented, but which, I think,
may be accounted for as follows. Snipe, like woodcock,
feed more during the night than the day, but more espe-
cially moonlight nights, on which occasions their wander-
ings are more severe and fatiguing, consequently, it will
be found, that on days succeeding those moonlight nights,
the Snipe, by reason of fatigue and satisfied appetite,
become more sluggish and inclined to be dormant. Again,
the migration of these birds always takes place during the
night season, gradually through the whole month of March,
and the early part of April, commencing about twilight in
the evening, and subsiding at the same period the next
morning, and will perform a journey, at a moderate calcu-
lation, of three or four hundred miles at one flight. Now,
when the sportsman encounters these birds the day after
their migratory flight, they are found to be very tenacious
of their resting-place, and quit it reluctantly; nor is it diffi-
cult to detect them, for whilst those Snipe which have
remained for days and recruited strength, will rise at too
great a distance for a successful shot, make their usual circu-
lar flight, and depart for some more distant feeding ground,
these will spring up only at your feet, fly a short distance,
and drop again into the grass, and continue these short
flights, until repeated persecution drives them completely
off. These birds, after a long flight, will remain in rich
feeding ground for a number of days, and until they have
satisfied the cravings of hunger, or become sufficiently re-
cruited to continue their migration, when, being disturbed
during the day, will make their final move the succeeding
night. In this way, sportsmen have often been disap-
pointed, when resorting to Snipe ground, find few, or no
birds, where, the day previous, they were in the greatest
abundance.

The Snipe are occasionally to be found in swampy thick-
ets, but more generally in open meadows, with a soft
bottom, and more or less covered slightly with water, this
kind of ground abounds in the neighbourhood of Philadel-
phia, but since the excavation of the Chesapeake and

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

Delaware canal, numbers of sportsmen resort thither as a
favourite place for shooting Snipe; at times they are scarce
even in this place, and then again in vast numbers, so that
the indefatigable sportsman is often rewarded for his ex-
pense and toil. When this spot was first resorted to, for
the purpose of shooting Snipe, I have been informed, that,
so great a multitude of these birds have congregated in
places, as to rival black-birds in the size of their flocks.

The Snipe pass the middle States by the latter end of
April, and reach their place of incubation, in the more
northern climate, in the early part of May, where they
remain until October, whence they return, and again afford
amusement to our sportsmen, during the Indian Summer;
at this period they are generally more fat and tender than
in the spring, being mostly j^oung birds. They finally
return to the southern States, and winter in the marshy and
rice gi'ounds, with which those States abound.

Although these birds are strictly migratory, there are
instances when they remain with us through both summer
and winter, as I have several times shot them in the heat
of the former, and the severities of the latter.

In habit, the Snipe is a solitary bird, and performs its
journey alone, but, as has been stated before, they concen-
trate in particularly rich feeding grounds, in such quanti-
ties, that when disturbed, their rise is so simultaneous, as
to have the appearance of flocks, and they will hover
around in large bodies, unwilling to leave the spot, until
they either disperse, or settle again in the grass, but their
arrival at, and departure from, these places, is solitary.
When this game is plentiful, I would advise the young
sportsman, by all means, to practice on it in preference to
any other; it is clear shooting, no objects interpose to dis-
concert the mind, and direct it from the game; conse-
quently, there is more time for deliberation. No. 9 shot,
is sufficiently large for the purpose, as it requires but a
slight wound to bring them to the ground — and one day's
exercise with prudence, after these birds, will initiate the
beginner into the science of shooting, more completely,
than practising a whole week at useless swallows, or slug-
gish rail. I_

REPLY TO "SPORTSMAN."

Messrs. Editors,

Your correspondent, the "Sportsman," has evinced so
much courtesy in his remarks on my essay on Chesapeake
Duck Shooting, that, though difiering in sentiment, I feel
much pleasure in replying to his "" Stricture." With
respect to his first observation, on the principle of aimino-
Z ^ f o

in advance of a bird, when at a great distance, the necessity
of it has been so much an axiom with old duck shooters,
that every argument with them would fail in overturning
it. I imagine, from the sentiments of your correspondent,
that his practice has been principally with ordinary game;
where the rapidity of flight and distance of object have been
so materially different from the case assumed by myself,
that a comparison can scarcely be drawn.

With a partridge or woodcock, the nearness of the object,
and the comparative slowness of progression, destroy the
necessity for any sensible difference in the direction of
aim; for, it has been computed that these birds fly at the
rate of from thirty to forty feet in a second of time, and being
generally shot at within sixty yards distance, the spread of
the load will cover all deficiency.

With a bird at eighty or one hundred yards, whose
motion is nearly ninety feet in that time, there can
be no doubt of the absolute necessity for a certain allow-
ance. Throwing aside the spreading of the shot, and
estimating the load but as a single mass like a bullet, the
subject assumes a more simple shape, and it is thus I will
consider it. If the shooter ceases to move his gun when
he begins to pull the trigger, there can be no question of the
loss of time even with the most rapid motion of the lock;
but I will take the fairest position of the matter, and allow
that the gun is still covering the bird when the load is
actually at the muzzle. The diagram before us, will assist
in explaining the philosophy of the subject.

I will consider A the breech of the
gun, which is, for all purposes, suf- *e
ficiently a point or centre of motion,
and B the muzzle. A C the posi-
tion of the gun when the shooter
commences the operation of firing,
E the bird at that moment; and ta-
king a course that will bring it when
at its nearest point, at a distance of
one hundred yards from the person.

We will suppose, although the relative proportions of dis-
tance are not accurate in the design, that the process of
pulling the trigger, and the passage of the load from the
breech to the muzzle, occupies one second of time, and that
during that interval, the muzzle has travelled to B, which
we will assume as ten feet, the length of the barrel, of
course changing the arc, and the bird has arrived at F, or
eight j'-seven feet beyond E. Allowing the load to be
attached to the muzzle, and the same rate of motion con-
tinued, it would be under the influence of a power of a
momentum of ten feet in a second, and which, in another
second would carry it to D. But presuming this momen-
tum was received, and the attachment to the gun destroyed.

00

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

the tangential disposition would, of course, place it at I,
in the same time. The " Sportsman" must allow, for the
sake of his own argument, that the load must remain a
sufficient length of time at the muzzle, to receive all the
lateral motion of that part, however inappreciable the in-
terval. The contents of the gun, therefore, has received,
at the instant of its departure, a certain lateral progression,
which there is nothing afterwards to increase, and, at the
same time, a forward velocity of, we will say as a data,
one hundred yards in a second. Whilst the load, there-
fore, is passing through this space, the bird has arrived at
H, which is exactly in a line with the gun, if it had con-
tinued the same rate of swing. We have now two forces
to consider, a forward one of one hundred yards in a second,
and a side one of ten feet in a second, and as all uninfluenced
impulses are in straight lines, a course exactly between the
two will be the track of the load, and it will reach G, in
a line diagonally drawn from B, to a point in a line with
I. If it be thought that my time is extreme, take any
proportion of it, and the result is the same. For instance,
consider that one-twentieth of a second is required for a
ball to pass one hundred yards, take the one-twentieth of
eighty-seven feet, as the progress of the bird, and the
same proportion of the advance of the gun, and you will
have six inches as the arc for the muzzle, and more than
four feet for the bird.

As to the second objection of the " Sportsman," to hear-
ing the sound of the shot strike the bird, I do not recol-
lect to have ever met with a ducker but who believed that
a sound that is distinctly heard immediately after the dis-
charge, arose from that cause. When birds, at even a less
distance than one hundred yards, are struck, and sufficiently
hard to kill instantly, a noise is perceived that can have no
other explanation, and I have often closed my eyes to be
enabled to determine from this sound alone, the success of
the shot. During the sporting of last season, it was a sub-
ject of daily conversation with us, and the death of many
ducks was successfully predicted by that means alone, and
the particular gunner, who struck the bird, was frequently
determined, and the fact proven by the examination of
the entering pellets, when there was no indication of success
till after all had discharged. Mr. Titian Peale, than whom
there cannot be more experienced or philosophical author-
ity, has informed me, that when large animals, as buffalo,
elk, or deer, are struck by a ball, and death instantly fol-
lows, this sound is distinctly heard, though a much less
resounding body than feathers is impinged. A ball fired
at an object as a board, or even a solid post, at one hundred
yards, can be heard to strike, almost uniformly. The
" Sportsman" forgets that this sound must return to the
ear at a rate of 11 43 feet in a second, so that at one hundred

yards, one-fourth of a second must elapse after the blow,
before its report, which, allowing the discharge and effect
are simultaneous, which they certainly are not, is suffi-
cient to enable this noise to be heard.

Before closing my remarks on the essay which excited
the observations of the " Sportsman," I will express my
regret at the errors in composition which are self-apparent
in it, the piece having been written in haste, and my
engagements preventing a subsequent correction.

I. T. S.

ON THE CHOICE OF GUNS.

Messrs. Editors,

In my communication of the 19th of October, 1830, I
confined myself to a description of guns adapted princi- _^
pally for field purposes, or shooting small game. My object H
in the present, is to speak of those kinds which are most o
approved of by the '^ Still Shooter,'"^ whose object is to
kill large game, and at a great distance, such as deer, geese,
ducks, &c. There is, however, a diversity of opinion re-
specting these guns, chiefly growing out of habit, owing
to the peculiar notions of many persons, and their mode of
hunting. It is notorious, that many a man who has a gun,
thinks himself in possession of the very best in ike loorld,
and his practice confirms him in his opinion, that is, the
only one calculated to insure success. With such I am not
going to dispute the point, but yield at once to all which
they shall insist upon, as undeniable, and true to the very
letter.

In selecting a gun for the purpose of killing deer, turkey,
wild ducks, &c. I would recommend one weighing from
ten to twelve pounds, if single, and twelve to fourteen, if
double-barrelled, of seven-eighths calibre, and about three
feet three to three feet six inches in length, which is capa-
ble of throwing from two to three ounces of shot, of any
kind, and which will be found convenien* for carrying
about. When, however, the object is boat-shooting, a
different gun from this, altogether, is required. In the
District of Columbia, it is the custom now, to use guns,
weighing twenty-five or thirty pounds, of an inch, or an
inch and a quarter calibre, from four to five feet in length,
carrying from six to eight ounces of shot, and it is even
asserted that ten ounces are frequently thrown at once! !!
In the winter of 1827-8, a coloured man had been pro-
vided with a small piece of cannon, (it could be called

* A still shooter is one who remains stationary at some place, and only
shoots when objects pass him, or who hunts without a dog, and steals upon his

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

nothing else) which weighed about sixty pounds, and was
projected over the bow of a little, frail machine, which
scarcely deserved the name of a boat, whilst he stretched
himself in the bottom and paddled in the direction of the game,
which floated in dense masses on the waters of the Poto-
mac. The time chosen by this Nimrod of aquatic celebrity,
for carrying on his murderous operations, was night, and
being guided chiefly by the noise of the birds, he moved
silently along until he conceived that he was at a proper
distance to speed the fatal messengers. Experience had
made him perfect in his art, his boat was previously trim-
med so as to allow his gun to range about one degree above
the level of the water; thus equipped, he would direct his
piece carefully towards his intended and unsuspecting vic-
tims, with his finger on the fatal trigger. He would then
arouse them and make them take flight, by kicking the boat
with his toes, but no sooner did he hear the noise of their
wings, than the work of destruction was done. In one
instance, this sable adventurer picked up sixty-three canvass
back ducks, part of which he oflered for sale the next
morning in Washington, the balance having been claimed
by the parties who furnished the gun, according to certain
stipulations entered into between them and the black. This
gun was secured to the boat by a long cord, so that, in case
of the upsetting of the boat, it might be found. I did not
hear whether the parties alluded to, had used the same
precautionary steps in regard to the man, in case he should
have fallen overboard and got drowned. By repeated
slaughter of this kind, how reasonable it is to imagine, that
in a short time, this valuable luxury of the table will en-
tirely disappear, and how salutary would be some law,
which should regulate its introduction into market, &c.

Leaving this mode of killing wild fowl to negroes and
their quod companions, we will return to our former text,
and to better associates. Having spoken of those guns best
adapted for sportsmen, we would merely offer a remark
respecting the advantage which the shot gun possesses
over the rifle, in the hands of an expert shot, and who is
an adept in the art of shooting on the wing, and whenever
the backwoodsman can handle the shot gun to the per-
fection he has managed the rifle, I know that his opi-
nion will coincide with mine, for the execution amongst
game, will be proof sufiScient to remove the most settled
prejudices.

In the first place, his chances are multiplied in propor-
tion to the number of buck and other shot, and it is much
easier to move a gun of ten or twelve pounds weight, and
keep it in a line with a moving object, than a rifle, which
will weigh from fifteen to twenty pounds. With respect
to those who may occasionally indulge in aquatic specula-
tions, I would suppose that a piece of twelve or fourteen

pounds, single or double, and carrying a charge of three
or four ounces, would be sufficiently large for all sports-
man-like operations. A.

A BEAR HUNT.

Messrs. Editors,

A FEW years since, when a resident of the town of Han-
cock, Delaware County, State of New York, among my
many hunting excursions, I experienced the following
Bear Hunt, which, if you think sufficiently interesting for
insertion in your Work on Rural Sports, you are welcome
to it.

In making hunting excursions, I always preferred the
period when the ground was first covered with snow, and
before the severity of the weather became so intense as to
drive most of the wild animals to their dens, which is more
particularly the case with Bears, where there is a scarcity
of food; then they retire early to their winter quarters,
and remain in a dormant state until the opening of spring.
The season, however, to which I allude, afforded so plen-
tiful a supply of beech and chesnuts, that the Bears roamed
at large much longer than in ordinary cases, and seemed
averse to den, although snow had fallen to a considerable
depth.

When this is the case they become exceedingly fat, and
with them it is a period of much persecution, as many
persons are actuated to pursue them, in consequence of
considerable profit being yielded by the sale of their fat,
whilst others do it to secure a necessary supply for the
winter season. This fat is twofold more rich than lard, and
is used in preference to it for various culinary purposes,
but more especially for dough-nuts, an article greatly in
vogue in newly settled countries, being convenient to
carry, and usually adopted by hunters for their daily food,
when on the chase.

During the above period, I had a plentiful supply of
good dogs; the number varying from five to nine, and
most of the smooth cur breed. This description of dogs
are much the best for hunting Bears; for, being active and
ferocious, they worry their antagonist to such a degree,
that he is compelled either to make a stand to defend him-
self, or take a tree in order to avoid them. Their manner
of attack is to seize, and spring back, whenever the Bear
attempts to fight, and the moment he runs, seize him
again; in this way, they surround him, and, although
they cannot vitally affect him, do often compel him to
climb a tree, or resort to other measures to rid himself of
them.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

On the day of the present hunt, I was joined by a very
particular friend, and a great huntsman, and we took with
us, for our day's sport, nine dogs, and two men to assist
leading the dogs — five of these animals were experienced
and well broken, but the other four were young, and about,
for the first time, to range the forest after Bear. Our first
course was direct to a mountain, where, we were confident,
we should find Bears; we moved off at a rapid pace, and
soon reached our place of destination. This mountain was
covered with beech and chesnut trees, and the Bears had
visited these so often, that their tracks were numerous,
but old; at length we came to a spot where a Bear had been
scratching up the snow, in search of food, and which he
had left only the night previous; we followed his track for
about one mile, when our dogs aroused him from his rest-
ing place. Our old dogs were under such excellent com-
mand, that we kept them constantly by our side, until we
started the Bear afresh, when we let them off, in pursuit.
Two of the dogs were hounds, and would constantly give
tongue, whilst the curs would proceed silently in chase,
and keep ahead of the former ; and, owing to this
circumstance, the Bear was often surprised, because his
attention having been attracted by the yelping of the
hounds, would, as he thought, keep beyond reach of them,
without putting himself to unnecessary speed — when, to
his surprise, the silent dogs would often be close at his
heels, and, coming up to him, would engage in con-
flict, and stop him; this, we could always tell, as all the
dogs would then join in general cry, when we would
take the nearest course, by crossing in the direction of the
sound.

On coming up to the combatants, we found the Bear,
an exceedingly large animal, and had already killed a
young, and bitten one of the old dogs, so badly, that he
could not remove from the bed* but on our approach, he
made off again, fighting the dogs as he ran, and showed
much aversion to treeing, and would, therefore, enter
swamps and windfalls, but being so closely pursued by the
dogs, no artifice of his would avail him, and had, at last,
recourse to a large tree, where he remained free from his
persecutors, who were assembled beneath him barking to
but little purpose.

It may, perhaps, be worthy to remark, for the informa-
tion of those who know but little of these animals, that old

*' A hiLd is a term used among hunters, signifying the spot where a Bear
makes a stand against his adversaries, and is more particularly applied when
the ground is covered with snow, as he generally confines himself to one spot,
which is completely beaten down by the belligerents, and varies from ten to
twenty feet in diameter. Sometimes the Bear gives battle sitting in an upright
posture, and again, while laying on his back; and it frequently occurs, that he
succeeds in beating off all his enemies, and will chase them some distance from
this spot, but, unless he makes off to some other neighbourhood, will, universally,
return again to the bed to wait for a fresh attack,

Bears seldom tree, to clear themselves of dogs, if there is
any possibility of escape without it, and when necessity
compels them to this course, they will, on the approach
of a human creature, in despite of every obstacle which
may oppose them, descend to the ground, and take to
flight; but young Bears will climb trees immediately, and
often sufler hunters to approach beneath, and shoot them.
Knowing the present animal to be an old and formidable
antagonist, and judging from the noise of the dogs, that he
was in a tree, my companion thought it most advisable to
destroy him at once, lest he should kill more of our dogs,
as by this time he had disabled another; he accordingly
approached with much caution, until within about eighty
yards of the tree, in which the Bear had taken refuge,
when, with much deliberation, he fired at his head, and,
being a first rate shot, I felt confident that the animal would
have fallen dead; but, to our great surprise, the shot did not
take effect, owing to the ball having struck, and glanced
from a small dead limb, which was immediately in front of
the Bear's head, but completely unnoticed by my friend.
At the report of his rifle, the Bear descended backwards,
for about ten feet, then doubled himself in the form of a
hoop, and fell to the ground.

It is well known among hunters, that, should an old Bear
be surprised on a tree, he will never descend, by sliding
down, but, like this Bear, roll himself up and fall, some-
times from a most astonishing height, even forty or fifty
feet, in which case he always alights on his rump, and
when on the side of a hill, will roll like a hoop to the bot-
tom. I have, in several instances, shot them after such
falls, and found the extent of injury received, was a few
slight bruises near the root of the tail. Experienced dogs
are aware of this stratagem of the Bear, and, so soon as he
lets go his hold, they will run from under the tree, to avoid
his fall. This plan also, the Bear adopts to clear himself of
dogs, as he knows, that should he descend the tree gradu-
ally, he must encounter a host of enemies, the moment he
reaches the ground. In the present instance, the dogs knew
the character of their antagonist, and ran so far from under
the tree, that the Bear had recovered from his fall, and ran
three hundred yards ere they could overtake him. The
battle now began to rage mostfuriousl}', and we were alarm-
ed for the fate of our dogs, and endeavoured to shoot
him but found it impossible to do so, without endan-
gering some of the dogs. He then laid on his back, and
would frequently drag some of the dogs into him, in order
to squeeze them to death, but being broad across the chest,
failed to effect his purpose; this, the old dogs knew well,
and the moment he would seize them, they would close
in with his breast, and slip out backwards from him.

Our presence excited the dogs to fight with the utmost

AND AMERICAiN RURAL SPORTS.

ferocity, and exceeding coui-age, for half an hour, but the
Bear was an overmatch for them, and we were fearful that
he would bite them in pieces, and escape at last, without
our being able to get a ball into him. Amongst our dogs
was a favourite old dog, we called "Drive," and, without
exception, the best dog to hunt I ever saw, and, withal,
the most courageous; he had been our companion, both in
toil and pleasure, for several years, and his encounters with
wild animals were so numerous, that, often has been the
time, that we carried him from the field of battle helpless
and mangled, for miles, to our homes, but always on reco-
vering, was eager to engage in deadly strife with any mon-
ster of the forest. This old dog, in the present battle, had
seized the Bear by the back of the neck with so firm a hold,
as to disable him, in some measure, from injuring the other
dogs. The Bear, however, endeavoured to rid himself of
Drive in every possible way, but to no effect; thinking now
it would be a good opportunity to despatch him, I resolved
to try the virtue of mj' hunting knife, and approached him
with a view of stabbing him, but the Bear immediately
broke away from the dogs, and then threw himself on his
back again, and when in this position, I stood my rifle
against a tree, and attempted to make the fatal stroke,
but the Bear anticipated my intention, and met my blow,
with a stroke of his paw, with so much force as to knock
the knife from my hand to a distance of thirty feet, and
then arose, and made a bold push at me, but I showed him
a light pair of heels, and being again seized by the dogs,
deterred him from further pursuit. We then thought of
other means, and commenced cutting large clubs; but whilst
engaged at this, the Bear, disrelishing his new enemies,
cleared himself of the dogs, which w-ere so disabled by this
time, that they could hardly fight more, and made off at
full speed. I seized my rifle, and just as he was springing
over an old hemlock log, I fired at him, but being afraid
of shooting the dogs, I shot too high, and only cut him
across the rump as he pitched over the log, this put him
to a stand, and he ascended a tree, to the height of about
forty feet, when I approached, and shot him through the
heart.

We examined the dogs, and found, although badly
wounded, they would be enabled to reach home with care
and assistance.

A few days previous to the above hunt, I had set a large
spring-trap for Bears, made of iron, for the purpose, and
acted similar to a spring rat-trap, but with square joints,
and two large springs acting against them, with two smaller
springs inside of these: beneath the jaws were arranged a
number of iron spikes, so that, as soon as the trap sprung,
it held its prisoner perfectly secure. These traps usually
weighed forty or fifty pounds, to which were appended, by
A a

means of chains, clogs of wood, four or five feet in
length, to prevent the caught animals from escaping. We,
therefore, at the commencement of this day's chase, had
sent our two men to the trap to ascertain, if any animal
was caught; and while we were engaged in dressing the
Bear we had just killed, these men came to us with infor-
mation, that a large Bear was caught by the trap, and so
securely, that there was no probability of his escaping, as
the trap had closed upon him about eight inches above his
paw. The day was drawing to its close, and having before
us sufficient to employ the balance of time before night
set in, we concluded to leave the trapped Bear for another
day's excursion, and make arrangements to get home our
dogs, in which we succeeded, and had them well provided
for, until they would finally recover.

The next morning, several of our neighbours joined us
in our excursion after the caught Bear; our number amount-
ed to eight or ten persons, full of glee, and with the pros-
pect of a fine da}- 's sport, armed with but an axe, and one
rifle, we sallied forth, with an addition to our list of dogs,
after our sable antagonist. We soon reached the scene of
our operations, and judged, the Bear must have been en-
trapped several days, as he was somewhat fatigued; and,
during his repeated endeavours to rid himself of the trap,
had broken the bone of his leg, so that it held him merely
by the skin and sinews. At our approach, however, he
hobbled off, and seizing the trap in his mouth, and running
on three legs, made considerable progress; but the young
dogs soon fastened on him, and fought very handsomely,
and, in order to give the Bear a better chance to defend
himself, we cut him loose from the trap; being thus disen-
cumbered, he boxed the dogs about pretty freely, until an
old dog, which we had kept in reserve, seized him by the
back of the neck, with so much ferocity, as to compel the
Bear to back himself against a large hemlock log, which
prevented the dogs from getting behind him, by which
means he kept them at a respectful distance. As conside-
rable time had elapsed since we first found him, we began
to grow weary, and concluded, that if it was possible to
master him, we would bind him and carry him home alive,
for a sight to the ladies of our village; and having deter-
mined on sport that day, we were unwilling to put an end
to it, by destroying the Bear, especially as our number
warranted the belief that we could take him home a pri-
soner, or that eight or ten stout men could secure one
disabled Bear — but here was the difficult}- — how were we
to secure him, without danger to ourselves? Various plans
were proposed, but none seemed practicable; at last J — ,
an old hunter, and a large athletic man, proposed the fol-
lowing, which was to cut a long pole, with a large fork at
one end, and crawl behind the Bear, and while his atten-

94

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

tion was engaged by the dogs, force the fork against the
back of his neck, and pin him to the ground, until the rest
could secure him. This caused much diversion to the com-
pany, as well from the singularity of the plan, as the sincere
manner in which it was spoken by J—. He, however,
nothing discouraged at their mirth, procured his pole, and,
with great gravity, proceeded towards executing his plan.
Confident of success, he approached the Bear with much
caution, who heeded nothing but his antagonists in front,
and was not aware of his new enemy. J — succeeded in
reaching the log, on which he mounted, immediately over
the Bear, and in the very spot he desired to stand; thus
prepared, he made a push at the back of the Bear's neck,
with his forked pole, thinking that, so soon as his antago-
nist felt the pressure, he would counteract it by resistance,
and therefore inclined the whole force of his body in that
direction; during this time nothing could exceed the mirth
of the party, the soberness with which the Bear defended
himself, in his upright posture, and the ludicrous appear-
ance of J—, when about yoking the Bear, created a scene
of laughter not easily to be described; while some, unable
to give vent sufficiently to their merriment, laid down and
rolled about in the snow. Bruin, himself, was up to a thing
or two, and envious of their mirth at his expense, conclu-
ded to turn the joke upon his antagonist, for, just at the
moment when J — pressed with all his force against him,
instead of resisting the push, threw himself forward, which
brought J — from his equilibrium, and tumbled him over
the Bear's head, and before he could make another spring,
Bruin made fair play at his breech, with a blow so well
directed, as to remove the seat of his pantaloons completely,
and then gave chase with open jaws; this was too much for
the risible faculties of the party, who, being completely
overcome, were rolling in the snow, convulsed with laugh-
ter, and entirely heedless of the situation in which J — was
placed, for the Bear was close at his heels, for forty yards,
and would inevitably have caught him, had it not been for
the old dog, which rushed on and seized the Bear, and
brought him to a stand. J — , too, could not help joining
the general mirth, occasioned by his defeat, although

their curiosity was satisfied, we concluded to take a social
glass, and try the effect of rum on Bruin; to treat him with
a drink we thought no more than fair, after his rough usage,
and accordingly poured down his throat a gill of old New
England, when he also, like many others, showed a fond-
ness for the cretur, and began to lick his chops for more.
We then cut the withes from his legs, to see what efiect the
liquor produced on him; he soon began to show signs
of beastly intoxication, as he would shut his eyes, fold
himself up, and appear to sleep, but, on touching him
with a stick, he would rise, make a jump as far as he
could, but no sooner touch the ground than he would
lie down and fall to sleep again. We finally put an
end to his existence, and distributed his remains among
the company ; in all probability, we should have kept
him alive, had it not been for the loss of his fore-paw,
as this was the only injury he had received, being
scarcely hurt by the dogs, and it may be worth sta-
ting, that old bears, when fat, and in a wild state, seldom
suffer much from dogs, even if numerous. In consequence
of the length of their fur, and quantity of fat, the dogs
cannot press their teeth into the Bear's flesh, and the ex-
tent of suffering on the Bear's part, is only a little worri-
ment from which they soon relieve themselves by climbing
a tree.

February 21, 1831. W. W.

HUNTING IN INDIA.

Of all the pleasant modes of travelling in the East, that
of riding leisurely in the cool season over your ground, and
making diversions to the right or left — as the country seems
likely to promise sport — is the most so. Your tent is
pitched under some wide-spreading banian tree, or in the
midst of a cool grove of mangoes; where it is delicious to
repose during the heat of the day — extended luxuriously
upon a sofa, when all around are sunk to rest; to smoke a

manilla cheroot, and with eyes half-shut to exhale the fra-
pursued^ by his inveterate enemy, with a determined spirit grant clouds, and i«hale the cool breeze, which steals
of revenge, in despite of his white flag, streaming from through the open doors of the tent.

behind. This plan having failed, we procured a small sap-
ling, and whilst the battle was raging, placed it across the
Bear's back, and, by our weight, pressed him to the earth,
when we succeeded in tying his legs together by withes;
we also secured his mouth, for fear that, when ascending
or descending hills, he probably would slide along the pole
and bite us; having him perfectly secured, we carried him
by passing a pole through his legs, to our homes, as a sight
to our families, and a trophy of our perseverance. When

Your dogs seem to
enjoy it as much as yourself; they stretch, and yawn, and
sigh, and, looking up in your face, beat the ground with
their tails with every demonstration of extreme canine lux-
ury; now and then snapping at the mosquitoes that buzz
about the tent, and doubtless dreaming of the summer-flies
of.their own dear land.

I love dogs as much as horses; without them I really do
not see how the world could go on. When the sun declines,
you put on your straw hat and shoes, and stroll forth into

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

95

the woods, with the certainty of getting a shot nineteen black whipper-in and several doriyas were waiting with

times out of twenty. the hounds. As the gray dawn was hardly yet percepti-

Never pass a tank without peeping over the mound that ble, I had ample time to look over this little pack by torch-
surrounds it — you are almost sure of finding wild-fowl light. To home-bred English eyes the turn-out would
there. Often and often have I, in one of these lazy strolls, seem but a poor one: only seven couples and a half were
come suddenly upon hundreds of widgeon and teal; and so in the field; and, of these, three dogs were curs, a half-
impudent were they frequently, that, even after firing at bred, between a fox-hound and the common Indian pariah
them, the flock would only move into the middle, or to the dog. They prove, however, exceedingly useful in worry-
further end of the tank, if it were a large one. ing the jackals; and, being fast, generally receive most of

At this hour the quails and partridges leave the brakes, those severe bites at the finish, which might cow, if not

where they have sheltered themselves during the sultry injure, the regular pack.

noon, and feed in the stubbles. Jackals may be seen steal- The remaining six couples were some of the handsomest

ing about the thickets in every direction, and little grey- dwarf fox-hounds I ever saw: one couple of bitches, espe-

foxes bolt out before you like rabbits. cially, was such a perfect picture I could not help regretting

The deer also may now be more easily approached whilst they had ever been sent to the deadly climate of the torrid

intent upon feeding, and a stalking-horse may sometimes zone.

be used with success: a bullock would be better, as they When I saw these hounds, two months afterwards, in

are more accustomed to its appearance; but it is surprising the hot season, their condition had fallen off most lamenta-

what a great dislike Indian cattle entertain for Europeans; bly; and many of them, I should think, would never get

and this would often defeat the sportsman's manreuvre. over the rains. The hunting costume of India is ratlier

Nothing is more annoying than, after wasting an hour antique: a cap, round coat, buckskin breeches, and, gene-

in endeavouring to approach a herd of antelopes, to see rally, brown tops, characterise the fox-hunter of Bengal,

them all start off, bounding up into the air, and kicking Some modern innovations have crept in; but, in general,

their heels at you in scorn — just too, as you were within all Orientals are as wedded to ancient dustoora, or custom,

long gun-shot, and enjoying in anticipation, the sweet cur- as John Company is to his monopoly of tea.

rant-jelly and the savoury haunch. Antelope venison is,
though, at the best, but very indifferent; being, generally,
hard and stringy; whilst that of the spotted deer is, I think,
superior to our own: it is, moreover, far less shy than the
startlish gazelle, and the other species of antelope. In pitch-
ing a tent, you should be sapient enough to recollect that

The Judge was accoutred in this style; and mounted on
one of the most perfect brown Arabs ever seen — called (if
I remember rightly) Jimesbiiry, in honour of Nimrod's
hunter of the same name. He had a stablefull of some
other very fine horses, chiefly Arabs — but Amesbury beat
them all. One (Champion) was a noble creature, and so

the sun never stands still: I have seen men, even old docile, that the *_yce used to bring him into the breakfast-
travellers, soft enough to encamp on the then shady side of room every morning, when my fair hostess honoured him
the tree, and in an hour be exposed to the fiercest influence by supplying bread with her own hand for his unconscion-
of the sun; which, under canvas, is no joke: frequently, the able stomach. Champion, once a good one, had received
scorching heat has compelled me to take refuge under the a wrench in the loins at a big jump, and was then perfectly
table, when compelled to encamp in a spot utterly desti- useless.

tute of trees. It was on one of those delightful tropical Balasore is but a small Civil station, and only four or

evenings in February, that I was yawning under an old five sportsmen joined us: one of them, Mr. Matthews, was

tamarind tree, under which my tent was pitched, and gazing mounted on a noble chesnut stallion, said to be one of the

upon the distant town of Balasore, and the wide prospect most perfect desert Arabs ever brought from the coast of

which extends from the hills of Orissa to the sea, when a Yemen. He was very high for an Eastern horse, and his

hat-less European came charging up to me at full speed,
and in a second I recognized Mr. Patten, then joint judge,
and magistrate of the district.

At that time I was not aware that a pack of hounds ex-

fiery and lasting vigour seemed almost too much for his
rider. That horse was worth any sum.

My kind friend, Mr. Pigou, the Judge of Cuttack (late
of Jessore), who was my fellow-traveller, rode a stout ches-

isted in these wilds; but so it was: and the result of our nut horse, of dubious breed, but which, though slow, went

conference was, that we should unkennel a jackal (would I very well.

might say a fox) at day-break. We soon found a jackal, and had a sharp burst of a quar-

Before it was light we mounted our prads, and rode out ter of an hour, over ground full of holes and brambles, as

from the residency to a village two miles distant, where a hard as granite, and over fields divided by little banks at

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

every twenty yards; and these are far more annoying to a
British fox-hunter than the ox-fences of Leicestershire, or
the stone-walls of the midland counties. They keep you
and 3'our horse in a constant fret, and yet never give you
a jump; excepting now and then, when yoxi come to some
bamboo-fence about eight feet high, which will never
break, and your only chance is to shut your eyes, stick
in your spurs, and shout the exhilarating war-cry of
" Charge!"

We lost this jackal and found another, which gave us a
slapping run of about half an hour; my mare had a bad
cold, and began to blow; when, luckily for me, the in-
creased heat of the Indian sun made the hounds throw up
their noses, and enabled me to retreat with credit, though
Mr. Patten's kindness had made a syce accompany me with
a fresh horse, in case my own should knock up.

At this moment I find that the ship is about to sail — so I
must conclude without any more remarks on this gallant
little pack; but, please God, hereafter I will renew my
Indian reminiscences, if you and your readers are blessed
with patience. Mr. James Patten is one of the boldest
riders in India — his battered cap proves the frequency of
his hair-breadth escapes. Once he jumped a tremendous
well (an Indian one) which might appal Castor himself:
his horse's hinder feet almost slipped in, when both must
have perished. The best of it is, that he did it in cold blood,
for the sake of a lark.

I am sorry to add that Mr. P. has since, with the Cal-
cutta hounds, broken his leg most desperately, in getting
over a bank; but I trust that, by this time, he is at it
again! — Sporting Mag.

ANECDOTE OF A PHEASANT.

Gentlemen,

Observing, in your Cabinet of Natural History, an anec-
dote respecting the occasional stupidity of the American
Grouse, I send you the following extract from my note
book, which may further illustrate the manners of that
interesting bird.

Along the eastern bank of the Hudson river, opposite
to the city of Albany (N. Y. ), there lies a sandy, unculti-
vated, and uninhabited tract of country, of considerable
extent. This is covered with dwarf pines, and thick bushes
of oak and whortleberry. The sportsman here, not unfre-
quently, meets with the Grouse, which resort to these bar-
rens, for the small acorns and berries which there abound.

Every hunter knows that the Pheasant, or Grouse,
though often shy and cunning, will, when worried by his
dog, sometimes exhibit such a degree of stupidity, infatu-

ation, and torpor, as to be caught by the hand. An
instance of this singular trait occurred to me some time
since.

Just at sun-set, in the early part of October, 18 — , on
returning home from a ramble in the country, with my
friend, J. S. on the porch of the Eagle tavern, which is on
the opposite bank of the river to the Grouse ground which
I have just described, we were much surprised to see a
large male pheasant [Tetrao Umbellus.) This fine bird
was quite motionless, and seemed altogether unconcerned
at the noise and crowd of citizens in this frequented and
thickly settled portion of the town. We entered the Eagle
by another way, and by gently opening the door to the
porch, where the Pheasant had lodged himself, we captured
him under a hat; though, by some mismanagement, he
afterwards, fortunately made his escape.

Having heard the discharge of some fowling-pieces dur-
ing our walk, we supposed that this Pheasant had been
frightened from his usual haunts on the opposite side of
the river, and, in his alarm, took refuge here, even under
the talons of the Eagle.

Wishing you success in your interesting and meritorious
attempt to illustrate the Natural History of our country,
I remain, yours truly,

JACOB GREEN.

SPORTING CALCULATION.

1st. In the course of a long day's hunting, it is 10 to 1
in favour of a bold and good rider, well mounted, that he
meets any accident at all.

2d. Supposing he falls, it is 8 to 1 that either he or his
horse is materially hurt.

3d. It is 6 to 1 the horse is hurt, and not the rider.
4th. If the rider is hurt, it is 12 to 1 that a bone is not
broken.

5th. It is 20 to 1, if a bone is broken, that the wound
is not mortal.

Ergo, lOx Sx 6 X 12 X 20=115,200
:lXlXlXlXl=l
And 115,200= 1 — thus stated, it details:
That he has no fall, is 10 to 1 ;
That himself or horse is not hurt, 80 to 1 ;
That it is his horse and not himself, 480 to 1;
That no bone is broken, 5,760 to 1 ;
That the hurt is not mortal, 115,200 to 1.
Ergo, out of 115,200 persons who go out hunting in the
morning, only one is supposed to end his course in that way
from the effect of that day's diversion. — ,5«n. of Sporting.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

97

WOODCOCK SHOOTING.

[Plate IX.]

There is, perhaps, no sport, in this country, which
occupies the attention of the shooter so much as that
of hunting Woodcocks; and, as the season approaches
which embraces this favourite amusement, much anxiety,
preparation, and solicitude, are wasted, in anticipating
the pleasure which abundance of this game produces,
and, for weeks before this period arrives, the talents of
all the gunsmiths are called in requisition by sports-
men, to supply any deficiencies which may be found
existing in their stock of accoutrements. This undue ea-
gerness, however, sometimes leads to great vexation and
disappointment, and proves to be premature ; for, like the
instability of most pleasures, the prospect of good shooting
is often obscured by the storms of a single night, and those
places of favourite resort by gunners, which sometimes
yield rich harvests to their perseverance, are frequently
rendered birdless by one heavy rain. This contingency
attending Woodcock shooting, deters many from pursuing
it who are extremely fond of the sport, and who prize it
as superior to all others, but which circumstance alone is
sufficient to bring it beneath the level of partridge shoot-
ing. In Europe, this bird is considered a great luxury,
and their scarcity in England enhances their value con-
siderably more in the eye of the sportsman, but seldom
affords so much amusement as other species of game:
they are, however, in this country, so plentiful, that the
season for shooting them, if prudently observed, adds much
to enjoyment, and constitutes an era of great importance
in the sporting world.

No laws regulating the season for shooting Woodcock
have, we believe, ever been enforced, except by the State
of New Jersey, which restricts it to that period between
tlie first of July and February; although several cities have
so far noticed this game as to prohibit its sale in their
market places, except during the above period. Sports-
men, however, in every State, respect the proper season
for shooting this bird, and are generally confined to those
months: but there are many, who do not bear even the
semblance of sportsmen, so unprincipled as never to regard
law, either natural, moral, or statute, and destroy this bird
indiscriminately whenever it is to be met with, often em-
bracing the season of incubation, when the bird is so tame
as almost to be taken by the hand, as more easily sacrificed
to their inhuman and unfeeling propensities. In connec-
tion with the pleasures attending Woodcock shooting, there
are many inconveniences and difficulties, which call into
exercise all the energies of the sportsman. Commencing
Bb

in the heat of summer, he is subject in his excursions to
the scorching rays of the sun, and dampness and mud at-
tends his every step, from which by the solary influence,
often arises a damp vapour, almost, at times, suffocating,
which enervates the system, and serves to create excessive
fatigue; it thus becomes a season of toil, pain, and un-
pleasant retrospection: when, if pursued during the only
proper season, in the fall of the year, it would be one of
the most delightful periods of enjoyment.

This bird is known throughout the United States, under
different names, as the snipe, big snipe, red-breasted snipe,
and mud snipe, and, in some parts of the country, through
ignorance, is not considered fit to eat, although they are
generally held in the highest estimation as an article of
luxury, and frequently command an extravagant price ; it
is in October and November, that the Woodcock is in the
best state for the table, but impatience in the sportsman
urges him to war against them, so soon as the law will per-
mit it. The favourite places of resort for Woodcocks
are low, marshy grounds, swamps, and meadows, with soft
bottoms, where cattle have been grazing, although during
wet seasons they seek higher land, most generally corn-
fields, to seek their food in the soft ploughed ground. It
is no difficult matter to ascertain the presence of these birds
in particular places, as the earth will be found perforated
with numbers of holes made by their bills, while searching
for worms beneath the surface of the ground.

Throughout the month of July, and part of August, the
Woodcocks are to be found in most grounds of the above
description, and in seasons of excessive drought, are very
numerous on tide watei creeks and shores of fresh water
rivers — those extensive meaaows in the interior of New
Jersey, near to Atsion Furnace, and frequently in the
marshy flats, overgrown with reeds: they were also found
in quantities in the meadows bordering the Cohansey river,
in the lower part of Jersej', in 1S25, at which place three
gentlemen, in the space of about two hours, on a very
small spot, killed upwards of forty birds. But though
the favourite places of resort for Woodcocks are in the re-
gion of streams and muddy bottoms, yet, different from
the snipe, they are averse to much water, and a heavy rain
will disperse them over a wide extended country, and
ground which sometimes produces abundance of this game,
is found forsaken by them, the night succeeding a heavy rain.

The Woodcocks, when found in meadow land, are easy
birds to shoot, and require but an indifferent shot, and
slight wounds to kill them, and are therefore sought after
by young sportsmen in preference to other game; for,
being exceeding sluggish in their movements, they afford
excellent opportunities to the beginner to exercise himself
in the science of shooting. When sprung from the ground,

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

these birds always give warning by a whistling noise with
their wings, and seldom rise higher than a man's head, skim-
ming over the ground with a slow and steady flight, to but
a short distance, when they settle again in the grass — but
their character is entirely changed, when the shooting
is confined to bushes and thickets, as it then constitutes
one of the most difficult feats to kill them, their course
being very indirect and unsteadj', and differing altogether
from the flight of other game, springing rapidly from the
ground, and rising perpendicularly, until they clear the tops
of the trees or bushes, when their flight becomes more steady,
but out of reach, and it requires much experience and judg-
ment to embrace the proper moment to shoot before they
make the twistings and turnings, in order to pass between
the trees, for this most generally disconcerts every one
who is not an expert shot.

To follow Woodcocks successfuly, two persons should al-
ways hunt together, so that, when the birds are sprung, they
will be the better able to mark the spot where they settle
again; as success depends, in a great measure, on marking
them properly, it is advisable for one to walk in the centre
of the thicket, while the other keeps outside, as in narrow
swamps, the birds will universally dart out of some open-
ing, and fly along the edge, until they determine to settle
again, and the chances of killing are twofold in favour of
the one outside, besides the opportunities of marking.

In Europe every sport has its particular description of
dogs, to which their use is solely applied: thus, there is the
stag-hound, and the fox-hound — for hunting hares the grey-
hound— for the different vermin, the beagle, harrier and ter-
rier— for grouse, the pointer; for partridges and pheasant,
the setter, and for Woodcock the springer, or cocking
spaniel. In this country, our sportsmen, for shooting pur-
poses, confine themselves to the pointer and setter dogs,
and are mostly guided in their choice by taste, rather than
judgment, and use them indiscriminately for grouse, phea-
sant, partridge, woodcock and snipe. The Springer is but
little known here, and is, in fact, the only proper dog to
hunt Woodcocks, as it never points, but is most assiduous
in pursuit, and on the instant of springing the bird, gives
warning to its master: but, in the absence of this dog,
the setter is undoubtedly preferable to the pointer; the na-
ture of the ground to be hunted over is more suited to his
disposition and habits, and being less mindful also of
briars and thickets, will not only perform more to the satis-
faction of his master, but withstand greater fatigue than
the pointer.

The double gun should always be used after this des-
cription of game, as the fault of shooting too soon occurs
more frequently in cripples, than on any other ground,
and success is threefold more in favour of the second dis-

charge than the first fire, as the bird, by this period, has
only gained the proper killing distance. "Very small shot,
say No. 9, is sufficiently large to kill them, there being no
American bird of the same magnitude which possesses so
frail a skin, and is_more easily penetrated.

After shooting at a bird, in case its flight continues, the
course, and spot in which it settles, should be particularly
marked; as it frequently happens they will fly to a much
greater distance with a mortal wound, than otherwise, and
many birds are lost to the sportsman, from his neglect in
this point.

Persons frequently return from Woodcock shooting un-
successful, in consequence of not hunting the ground well;
too much care cannot, therefore, be employed in beating a
thicket, and very slow progress should alwa3's be made
through high grass, as the tenacity of these birds to their
places of repose will subject them to be almost trodden
upon without taking wing, and it will be well for the
sportsman to halt every few yards, as this will tend to flush
them, when constant motion would keep them quiet.

In October and November, the Woodcocks forsake their
usual feeding-ground, and are to be found in tall, swampy
woods, small streams, overgrown with bushes, and newly
cleared land; their favourite food consists of insects, larva
of insects, and earth-worms; therefore, when the approach-
ing cold weather drives the latter deep into the ground,
they then resort to woods and bush-land, where, beneath
the leaves, they glean a subsistence on insects. This is the
only proper season to shoot them; they are then fat, and
much larger than in July, and generally free from vermin.
In June, they are to be met with in almost every
swampy meadow; but their number is generally confined
to from two to six; as, however, the season advances, and
the 3"0ung birds mature, the drought drives them to those
wet feeding-grounds before mentioned, into which they
sometimes concentrate in great numbers. These places
are then resorted to by sportsmen, who frequently make
most incredible havoc and waste of life among them, some-
times killing such quantities, that before night approaches
those birds killed in the morning are putrified. This un-
necessary destruction of life should be avoided; it adds
nothing to the sportsman's character as a good shot, and
most certainly detracts from his feelings of humanity;
that number should suffice which may be conveniently
kept, and rendered suitable for the table.

The Woodcock is considered a nocturnal bird, and does
all its feeding and migratory flights during this season: in-
deed, its sight is very imperfect in the day time, and the
construction of the eye evidently unfits it for the glare of
day: hence the reason why it selects, in low bushes and
long grass, those sombre retreats from which it never vol-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

untarily departs, until twilight approaches. This imper-
fection in sight is strikingly manifested, when driven from
their seclusion, as they seldom make long flights, and are
always anxious to settle immediately, as though it was
painful to sustain the dazzling light of the sun, and are as
likely to rush into danger as to avoid it, frequently ap-
proaching the sportsman sufficiently near to be stricken by
the hand. The writer himself, during the past summer, while
standing beneath the shade of a tree, observed a Wood-
cock settle within a few feet of him, and actually remained
some seconds before it took to flight again; but this appa-
rent stupidity is only attributable to their imperfect vision,
in the day time. But no sooner do the shades of evening
appear, than they sally forth, from their thousand
hiding-places, to seek their food in open glades and mea-
dows. At this time, an expert shot may reap a rich reward
to his watchfulness, should he station himself near to some
dense swamp, where these birds are making continual in-
gress and egress.

Often, in his walks at twilight, along the secluded lane
or lonely meadow, does the passenger observe an object
like a phantom flit before his face, or spring from his path,
with a whistling noise, and is lost in the impenetrable
gloom which surrounds him: — it is this lonely bird, unable
to sustain that light which gives life and gaiety to other
birds, now breaking forth from every opening of the
woody recess, to enjoy the comfort and protection which
night affords, while seeking unmolested the means of sus-
taining life.

Woodcocks, although migrator}"-, remain frequently with
us during the whole year — sometimes, when the streams
are covered with ice, and the ground with snow; but their
places of resort then, are in cedar swamps, and those
springy woods, where the water never freezes, but is con-
stantly oozing from the ground, and it appears remarkable
how this bird, whose food consists altogether of worms and
insects, should, at this season of the year, find means to
sustain life; but Nature, ever provident in her resources,
and bountiful to all her oflspring, has furnished this bird
with a bill whose length and delicacy of touch enables it to
penetrate deeply into the earth, and draw from thence its
accustomed support.

THE SEA.

To those who are capable of only gazing upon its surface,
the ocean is a sublime sight. "The waste of waters," as
we are in the habit of calling it — though it be any thing but
a waste, girdles the globe from pole to pole, and occupies

nearly three-fourths of its surface. When, on some calm
and pleasant day, when there is not a cloud to dapple the
sky, or a breath to ruffle the waters, we look out from some
lone promontory or beetling rock, upon the soft green face
of ocean, and see it extending on and on in one glassy
level, till it blend its farther blue so softly with that of the
air, that we know not which is the sea and which sky, but
are apt to fancy that this limpid watery curtain is drawn
over the universe, and that the sun, the planets, and the
stars, are islands in the same sea in which our own habita-
tion is cast. In the soft but sublime contemplation, we find
the mind expand with the subject; the fancy glides off to
places more high than the line can measure, more deep
than plummet can sound; we feel the link that binds us to
creation; and finding it to be fair and lovely, our kindly
feelings only are touched, and we exult in the general hap-
piness of that of which we feel that we are a part. If then
a vessel should come in sight, with the sun illuminating its
canvass, like a beam of light on the blue sea, and moving
slow and stately, not seeming to us to be in motion, and
yet shifting miles before we can count minutes, how we
long to be passengers — to walk upon the waters — to be
wafted by the winds — to visit the remotest parts of the
earth, without half the effort which is required before the
sluggard can turn on his couch. Then, if we linger till
the sun declines, and his beams are wholly reflected from
the glowing surface, what an excess of brightness! An
infinitude of burnished gold, and of burnished gold all
living and in motion, stretches out at our feet; and as the
reflected light upon the shore wakens a gentle zephyr of the
air in that direction, the dimpling water plays in alternate
sunshine and shade, as if the luminary had been broken to
fragments, and gently strewed along its surface.

But if the elements are in motion, if the winds are up —
if the "blackness of darkness," which cloud upon cloud,
rolling in masses and roaring in thunder, which answers to
the call of the forked lightning, has flung its shadow upon
the sea, so as to change the soft green to a dark and dismal
raven blue, which gives all the effect of contrast to the
spray that dances on the crests of the waves, chafes around
the reef, dashes with angry foam against the precipice, or
ever and anon, as the fitful blast puts on all its fury, covers
the whole with reeking confusion, as if, by the force of the
agitation, the very water had taken fire; — if one can stand
so as to view the full swell of the tempest-tossed ocean side-
ways, it is indeed a sjiirit-stirring sight! The dark trough,
between every two ridges, appears as if the waters were
cleft in twain, and both a pathway and a shelter displayed,
while ridge courses after ridge in eager race, but with equal
celerity. Some, indeed, appear to fall in their course, and
to be trampled upon by those that are behind. They are

100

TIIE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

hit by one of those momentary gusts which fall; and where,
as Burns expressively has it, the wind is every where
blowing

" As 'Iwould blaw ils last,"

it lashes a portion of the surge to a greater elevation than it
can bear; or, some bank or hidden rock from below arrests
it in its course; and down it thunders in brawling and foam,
interrupting the succession, and embroiling its successors in
its fate.

Even when seen from the pebbly beach of a lee-shore,
the ocean in a storm is a sight both to be enjoyed and re-
membered. The wave comes rolling onward, dark and
silent, till it meets with the reflux of its predecessor, which
produces a motion to seaward on the ground, and throws the
approaching wave off its equilibrium. Its progress is arrest-
ed for a moment; the wall of water vibrates, and as it now
meets the wind, instead of moving before it, its crest be-
comes hoary with spray; it shakes — it nods — it curls for-
ward, and for a moment the liquid column hangs suspended
in the air; but down it dashes in one volume of snow-white
foam, which dances and ripples upon the beach. There is
an instant retreat, and the clean and smooth pebbles, as they
are drawn back by the reflux of the water, emulate in more
harsh and grating sounds the thunder of the wave.

Here we may see what a wonderful thing motion is.
What is so bland and limpid as still water! what substance
half so soft and fine as the motionless atmosphere! The
one does not loosen a particle of sand: the other — you
must question with yourself, and even add a little faith to
feeling, before you be quite sure of its existence. But arm
them once with life, or with that which is the best emblem
and the most universal indication of life, motion, and they
are terrible both in their grandeur and their power. The
sand is driven like stubble; the solid earth must give way;
and the rocks are rent from the promontory, and flung in
ruins along its base. Need we, therefore, wonder that the
masts and cordage that man constructs should be rent as if
they were gossamer, and his navies scattered like chaff?

The grandest scenes, however, are found at those places
where former storms have washed away all the softer parts,
and the caverned and rifted rocks — the firm skeleton of the
globe, as it were — stand out to contend with the turmoiling
waters. The long roll of the Atlantic upon the Cornish
coast; a south-easter upon the cliffs of Yorkshire, or among
the stupendous caves to the eastward of Arbroath; a north-
easter in the Bullers of Buchan; or, better still, the whole
mass of the Northern ocean dashed by the bleak north wind
against the ragged brows of Caithness and Sunderland;
those — that especially — are situations in which, if it can be
viewed in these islands, the majesty of the deep may be

seen. Upon the last, in the acme of its sublimity, one dares
hardly look. The wind blows ice; and the spray, which
dashes thick over five hundred feet of perpendicular clifis,
falls in torrents of chilling rain; while the vollied stones,
which the surges batter against the cliffs, the hissing of the
imprisoned air in the unperforated leaves, and the spouting
water through those that are perforated, and the dashing and
regurgitation of the latter, as it falls in the pauses of the
commotion, produce a combination of the terrible, which
the nerves of those who are unaccustomed to such scenes
can hardly bear.

And yet there is an enchantment — a fascination almost to
madness — in those terrible scenes. Mere height often has
this singular effect, which is alluded to by the Philosopher
of Poets, in his admirable description of Dover cliff:

"I'll look no more ;
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong."

But when the elements are in fury — when the earth is
rocking, and the sea and sky reeling and confounding their
distinctive characters in one tremendous chaos — when, in
all that is seen, the common laws of nature seem to be abro-
gated, and her productions of peace cast aside, in order that
there may be an end of her works, and that the sway of
"the Annarch old" may again be universal — the heroism
of desperation — that which tempers the soldier to the strife
of the field, and the sailor to the yet more terrible conflict
on the flood — comes, and comes in its power — and the dis-
position to dash into the thickest of the strife, and die in the
death-struggle of nature, is one of the most powerful feel-
ings of one who can enter into the spirit of the mighty
scene.

We leave those who allocate the feelings of men accord-
ing to the scale of their artificial systems, to find the place
of this singular emotion, and call it a good or an evil one,
as they choose. But we have been in the habit of feeling
and thinking that it is an impulse of natural theology — one
of those unbidden aspirations toward his Maker which man
feels when the ties that bind him to nature and the earth
appear to be loosening, and there remains no hope, but in
the consciousness of his God, and of that eternity, the gate
of which is in the shadow of death. Thus, amid the fury
of the elements, the unsophisticated hopes of man cling to
Him, who " rideth in the whirlwind and directeth the
storm."

But beautiful or sublime as the ocean is, according to
situation and circumstances, we should lose its value, were
we to look upon it only as a spectacle, and were the emo-
tions that it produced to be only the dreams of feeling,
however touching, or however allied to religion. To ad-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

mire and to feel are both essential and valuable parts of our
nature ; but neitlier of them is so essential, as to know.
That is the antecedent matter; because by it, and by it only,
the admiration and the feeling can be properly directed.
The first property of the ocean that strikes our sight, is its
vast extent; and the first that addresses our understanding,
is the vast extent of its usefulness. The evaporation of
water from its surface, cleared from the impurities of the
land, and adapted for the promoting of life and fertility,
has already been mentioned. But the ocean is also the
grand messenger of physical nature: that general law, or
phenomenon of the constitution of matter, (for the laws
and the phenomena of nature are the same) by which the
earth is maintained in its orbit, and has the figure and con-
sistency which it possesses, and by which the objects on its
surface preserve their forms and their places, — that simple
law occasions the tides of the ocean; and these, by moving
in the very directions which an obedience to this law points
out, produce currents, by means of which there is a con-
stant circulation of the waters of the ocean through all parts
of tlie earth's surface; and the immediate consequence is
an equalization of warmth, by means of which, the ex-
tremes, both of heat and cold, are mitigated, and the gene-
ral fertility and comfort promoted.

AN INQUIRY RESPECTING THE TRUE
NATURE OF INSTINCT.

BY OLIVER FRENCH, Esq.

The mighty and various powers of man are wonderfully
imaged forth in the sensible objects that surround him;
and, in the march of science, such additional evidences are
continually elicited, in conformation of this important truth,
that we may perhaps be warranted in giving a philosophical
assent to the sentiment of the poet, —

That for the Instructed, lime will come

When Ihey shall meet no object but may teach
Some acceptable lesson to their minds
Of human sufiering^s, or of human joy,
For then shall all things speak of Man.

WOEDSWOKTH.

Nature's wide domain indeed exhibits a boundless theatre,
in which moral and intellectual agency is ever active and
employed; — strikingly manifesting its presence to the con-
templative mind, in even the most common operations, the
results of which have been denominated fixed laws: for
what are these but the operations of such agency producing
effects for particular ends and purposes, which ends and pur-
poses are evidently intended to be subservient to the appli-
cation to the powers of the human mind, in the adaptation
Co

of all lower things to the purposes suggested by man's
reason in all the various products of the arts and sciences.
These rise like a new creation from the apparently chaotic
parts of Nature, and their production is strictly compre-
hended within the universal plan of the Divine Artificer,
who well knows how much to do for man, and what to
leave within man's province, for the proper exercise of the
faculties with which he endows him; and to aid him in
which exercise, Nature is thus made to unfold a rich and
fertile picture of moral and intellectual qualities.

It would appear that traces of the delineation here alluded
to might be found throughout the varied products of Na-
ture; but in the animal kingdom we find a broad and certain
basis for induction — the world of instinct, in which the
various moral and intellectual powers of man are symboli-
cally reflected, as in a mirror, even to his entrance into a
glorious immortality. In this great division of the lower
creation, the qualities of foresight, industry, integrity, jus-
tice, and order, sociability and mutual aid and protection,
self-devotion and magnanimity, are imaged forth with an
astonishing fidelity and touch of truth: and in a manner no
less astonishing and faithful are displayed the opposites of
all these, — improvidence, idleness, dishonesty, injustice
and disorder, unsociableness and mutual disregard, selfish-
ness and cowardice.

To the contemplative mind, final causes, natural and
moral, are every where multiplied to the view, in the in-
numerable parts of the great machinery of Creation. How
forcibly, in numerous instances, are the destroying passions
depicted; and how finely does the picture set oif the relative
beauty of their opposites — the social virtues, which in the
instincts of animals are not less faithfully delineated.

This circumstance is really so striking, that, (if such an
inquiry could be entered into a philosophical dissertation)
we might be tempted to ask, whether these passions of in-
ordinate self-love, giving birth to offensive violence, are not
thus exhibited so as to affect the outward senses, through
the medium of ferocious animals, in order to furnish us
with the strongest possible perceptions of the nature of
such passions in ourselves. But the creatures themselves
are incapable of conceiving any thing respecting the nature
of the moral and intellectual qualities which they thus ex-
hibit,— to them virtue and vice are nothing: they are indeed
but the passive mediums in which those qualities are repre-
sented and illustrated, in the language of God in Nature,
addressed to the human mind; and they seem to be but as
types of things — of the mighty powers, moral and intellec-
tual, which fill the mind of man, who alone is an inhabitant
of the moral and intellectual world, as he is of the natural
world.

Man was called by the ancients a Microcosm, or little

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

world, — that is, a being whose moral and intellectual powers
are represented in the subjects of nature, the utilities and
ends of which latter are reflected in him, and, as a final
cause, take their rise and origin from him, in the scale of
creation: and, judging from all that has been said upon this
subject, there can be little doubt, that as all natural things
are subservient as means to things moral and intellectual,
so the former, as much as possible, would seem to be made
the emblems and representatives in which the latter may
be contemplated.

I have been led to offer these remarks on the final causes
of lower existence, because I consider that they are so con-
nected with the question of instinct, that, taken in a gene-
ral point of view, they help to determine what sort of
limited and subservient powers the brute creation may be
expected, a priori, to possess.

The above idea it appears very necessary to keep in mind,
to prevent us from assigning to brutes, mental attributes
above the sphere of their common nature, and as leading
us to investigate those causes which alone appear properly
and rationally adequate to the production of the wonderful
system and order observable in their actions. It is from
failing to retain steadily in the mind's view this necessary
leading principle, that we are led into erroneous conclusions
respecting the powers of the brute mind, and the operative
means by which the actions of brutes are effected; which
so much resemble the operations of human intellect, that as
before observed, they may be said to represent and illus-
trate them.

On this account, considerable difficulty has been found in
drawing a distinct line between the conscious discrimina-
tive powers of brutes, and those of human rationality; and
in affixing a true character to the mental principles in which
the actions of the brute creation originate.

Now it seems demonstrable that brutes are possessed of a
limited conscious discrimination and determination; which
discrimination and determination do not, however, embrace
what is either moral, intellectual, or rational, as regards the
consciousness of the creature: but as their actions involve
in them causes or powers that are evidently of a moral, in-
tellectual, and rational order, and which powers evidently
act upon the mental constitution of brutes by impressing
and guiding their conscious powers of discrimination and
determination to action, according to the purposes or final
causes of their being: — it maj-, therefore, be justly inferred
that the Divine Energy does in reality act, not imme-
diately, but mediately, or through the medium of moral
and intellectual influences, upon the nature or consciousness
of the creature, in the production of the various, and, in
many instances, truly wonderful actions which they perform.

If it be asked by what intermediate agency the opera-

tions of brutes are thus directed ; — I reply that it is gene-
rally admitted, by a large class of mankind, at least, that
superior (yet intermediate) powers of some kind, are in
actual connexion with the human mind, — though not lead-
ing it blindly, as might be supposed to be the case with re-
gard to brutes; — and if this be admitted, there remains no
reasonable ground for denying the connexion and influence
of similar powers, (whatever they may be), operating upon
and disposing to certain ends the conscious natures of brutes;
which natures, if we suppose them destitute of moral and
intellectual consciousness, have need of the operation of
such powers to direct them. The phenomena of brute ac-
tion, indeed, are inexplicable upon any other grounds, but
these once admitted, there appears to be nothing in the
whole circle of instinctive operations which may not be
satisfactorily accounted for. I will not even venture a sug-
gestion as to the nature of the intermediate superior powers
here alluded to; but their agency, I repeat, is plainly mani-
fest in the conduct of brutes.

Viewed, then, in this light, and explained in this man-
ner, Providence is conspicuous in the operations of brute
nature; and it is but reasonable to conclude that the Divine
Being does indeed operate, by unseen mediums, of what-
ever kind they be, as the Great Regulator of the whole.

Facts have undoubtedly occurred to exemplify the opera-
tion of such agency in special interferences of Providence,
through the medium of the brute mind; of which the fol-
lowing well authenticated instance must be regarded as a
very striking one.

At Ditchley, near Blenheim, now the seat of Viscount
Dillon, but formerly of the Lees, Earls of Lichfield, is a
portrait of Sir Henry Lee, by Jansen, with that of a mas-
tiff dog which saved his life. One of Sir Henry's servants
had formed the design of assassinating his master, and rob-
bing the house; but on the night he had intended to perpe-
trate it, the dog, for the first time, followed Sir Henry up
stairs, took his station under his bed, and could not be
driven thence; in the dead of the night, the servant, not
knowing the dog was there, entered the room to execute his
diabolical purpose; but was instantly seized by the dog, and
being secured, confessed his intentions. In a corner of the
picture are these lines:

But in my do^, whereof I made no store,
I find more love than those I trusted more.

What an instance is this to show the operation of a supe-
rior moral and intellectual power disposing the inclinations
and perceptions of an animal, for a stated end; while the
natural volitions of the creature, were at the same time ex-
ercised by it in freedom towards the furtherance of this end!
Whether we suppose the immediate means made use of to
impress the animal's conscious mind, to be that of an ideal

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

103

imagery or anticipated view of the intended act, with its
accompaniments, the darkness, the silence, &c. &c. — and
that when it really did begin to happen — when the man ac-
tually entered the room at midnight, the animal seized him
as described ; — or in whatever way we regard it as having
been efifected, the operation of an intellectual power is most
unequivocal. We cannot account for this cool and dispas-
sionate magnanimity, which renders the brute animal un-
mindful of itself, while extending its protection, and this
with discrimination of circumstances, to man, unless by a
directing energy, unseen by itself, acting upon its mind,
and disposing it to use its immediate conscious faculties in
operating according to a particular dictate; the animal, as to
all its conscious faculties and bodily powers, being left in
perfect freedom, although thus overruled by a presiding
power, of which it is totally unconscious. We cannot
otherwise account for the apparently complex nature of
brutes, "which," as beautifully observed by Addison,
"thus rises above reason, and falls infinitely short of it,"
and which " cannot be accounted for by any properties of
matter, and at the same time works after so odd a manner,
that one cannot think it the faculty, {as regards the crea-
ture, he might have added) of an intellectual being."

According to the view above taken, then, the brute,
within the sphere of its consciousness, is in perfect free-
dom; thus it is by no means an automaton, but gifted with
a subordinate freedom of volition, discrimination and action,
beneath the moral and intellectual sphere by wliich it is
ruled and governed.

The foregoing, however, it may perhaps be said, is an
extraordinary instance of the actions of instinct. In reply
to this, the question may be asked, — are not the most com-
mon and ordinary instances of instinctive action equally
illustrative of an intelligence superior to the conscious fa-
culties of the creature; which intelligence must, therefore,
operate upon its conscious perception, and constitute, as it
were, theprimum mobile, actuating and impelling it to the
most reasonable and circumstantial course of action that can
be conceived, for arriving at the fulfilment of the ends for
which it is brought into existence? Does the spider, in the
curious act of weaving its web, think within itself, and
say, ' I will extend my threads in this order, and connect
and tie them together transversely, to secure my web from
tlie rude vibrations of the air; and in the terminations which
constitute the central point of my web, I will provide
myself a seat, where I may sit and watch what happens,
and be ready to seize and envelope every fly that is caught
in my trap? — Or does the bee reason and say to itself, ' I
will take my flight to such a field, where I know there is
plenty of flowers, and I will gather wax and honey from
them, and of the wax I will build contiguous cells in a par-

ticular arrangement and form, and so disposed, that I and
my companions may have free ingress and egress, and in
process of time may lay up a large store of honey, sufficient
for our necessities during the approaching winter, that we
may not starve; and I will help to support, like a good
citizen, the political and economical prudence of the com-
munity?'

We cannot surely conceive any such process of reflection
as this to pervade the consciousness of the creatures, al-
though their acts evidently include it in some way or other;
and this I think amounts to a full proof, that reasoning is
in no case the effect of instinct, as has been supposed by
some philosophers; for it determines that the voluntary
powers of animals, may be most forcibly directed to a par-
ticular course of action, without any reasonable perception,
either of the act or of its consequences, on the part of the
animals themselves; and shows that the instinct of animals
is governed by the influence of an intelligence, (acting in
this case according to an uniform mode or fixed law,) which
cannot be ascribed to the animals themselves; and which
evidently acts upon them above the sphere of their proper
consciousness. The same arguments are applicable to those
cases, in which animals appear to act more immediately
from the exigency of circumstances, that in these also they
are similarly directed; as in the case of the ostrich, an ap-
parently stupid bird, which, in Senegal, where the heat is
great, sits only by night, when the coolness of the air
would chill the eggs; and in the case of parent birds, when
their nestlings are confined in cages, or tied to the nest; in
which exigency, the old ones prolong their care, and con-
tinue to supply them with food beyond the accustomed pe-
riod.* It thus appears clearly evident, I think, that ani-
mals do not act with a view to consequences, from their
own proper consciousness; but that whenever they do so
act, it is from a dictating energy operating above the sphere
of their consciousness, and disposing them so to do: that
the business of mental analysis and extraction, is perform-
ed for them, as it were, in every instance in which they
appear to exhibit proofs of it; and that properly speaking,
there is nothing of design attributable to brutes in their ac-
tions, but merely a subordinate voluntary principle, and
discriminative perception, which may be termed natural, to
distinguish it from what is moral, intellectual, and scienti-

* A few years since a pair of sparrows wliicli had buill in the tliatch roof of a
house at Poole, were observed to continue their regular visits to the nest long
after the time when the young birds take flight. This unusual circumstance con-
tinued throughout the year; and in the winter, a gentleman who had all along
observed them, determined on investigating its 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 for procuring its own subsist-
ence, it had been fed by the continued exertions of its parents. B.

104

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fie; to which latter principles alone design can properly be
referred. If the appearances of design in the animals be
taken as proofs of such design being proper to them, we
must be forced to admit that they are possessed of moral,
intellectual and scientific reflection: but we might, upon
this principle, argue the same thing of the plant, which,
when placed in a cellar where but a partial light is admit-
ted, turns itself towards the ray; namely, that as there is
the appearance of design in the action, we must therefore
attribute design to the subject in which wc perceive its ef-
fects, and thus elevate the vegetable to the intellectual
sphere: and we should actually do this, did we not stop
short to consider the adequacy of the apparent agent to the
production of the effect, as we behold it performed.

It becomes necessary, then, to establish a test whereby
the operation of the moral, intellectual and scientific powers
here alluded to, may be ascertained; and whereby the line
of demarcation may be distinctly drawn between man and
brute. This test, I conceive, is included in the following
propositions; viz. 1st, That moral qualities do not become
objective in the minds of brutes; or, that the moral actions
which they perform are not reflected upon or contrived by
them as such; thus that they possess no moral conscious-
ness, and consequently that no moral design can be attribut-
ed to them; and therefore, that so much of moral design as
appears conspicuous in their actions must be the effect of
moral powers or energies acting upon them in a region of
their minds above the sphere of their proper consciousness.
2d, That intellectual and scientific qualities do not become
objective in the minds of brutes; or, that the intellectual and
scientific actions which they perform, are not reflected upon
or contrived by them as such; thus that they possess no in-
tellectual or scientific consciousness, and consequently that
no intellectual or scientific design can be attributed to them:
and therefore that so much of intellectual or scientific de-
sign as appears conspicuous in their actions, must be the ef-
fect of intellectual and scientific powers or energies, acting
upon them in a region of their minds above the sphere of
their proper consciousness.

Admiring and respecting as I do the endeavours of all
who are engaged in the promotion of philosophic inquiries,
I cannot but think, that in the particular subject before us,
too much has been done to confound the natures of man
and brute, and to separate both from the Fountain of their
existence. Man is what he is, and derives his superiority
over the brute creation, from the circumstance that all
things whatever become morally and scientifically objective
to him; and the brute is what he is, and derives his infe-
riority, from the total absence of this distinguished and en-
nobling faculty. It is true that many specious arguments
may be and have been advanced to prove that the brutes

participate in human rationality, in kind, if not in
but the ends which their natures are evidently destined to
fulfil, would be, one might imagine, alone sufiicient to re-
fute the supposition. For it is but reasonable to conclude,
that the conscious powers of the creature will be according
to the ends of its existence ; and as these ends are in
the brute creation neither moral nor scientific, but pure-
ly natural, and, as regards themselves, only subser-
vient to what is moral and scientific, it thence would follow
that they are not possessed in themselves of any moral, in-
tellectual, or scientific conscious powers; — and are there-
fore merely natural agents of a secondary class, in which
such powers are exhibited.

I proceed to consider the first of the foregoing proposi-
tions. When we investigate the many and surprising in-
stances in which the operations of the brute creation imply
moral intention, reflection, and contrivance, we are at no
loss to account for the opinion of that class of philosophers,
who have attributed the mental inferiority of brutes to the
mere want of adequate bodily organs; nevertheless, the in-
tellectual consciousness of man shrinks from the acknow-
ledgment that in one common principle of life originate the
actions of man and brute: and that brutes, as to their mental
constitution, are thus, as it were, " human imps lopt off
from the common stock of intellect and rationality."
There is something which seems powerfully to oppose the
sentiment of sharing those high endowments with crea-
tures of so inferior a nature ; and which irresistibly leads
us seriously to examine the arguments which may be
offered to prove that moral and intellectual powers reign
over the conscious perception of the brute, and guide it to
its proper exercise of those lower faculties, which it is left
in freedom to use. The bee, we say, is a perfect political
moralist, with respect to its actions, which evince the strict-
est attention to the principles of order and economy, for
the purposes of the establishment and preservation of a
community; yet it is totally ignorant and unconscious of
the very principles which it is so assiduous in the practice
of; — not a ray of moral perception or consciousness can be
attributed to it in a proper sense; it is, on the contrary, to-
tally destitute of the means of discerning or reflecting upon
the nature or order of the ends it is instrumental in accom-
plishing, through the medium of its subordinate voluntary
perceptions and powers. — Although it is in the habit of ex-
ercising the most accurate science and means, for the fulfil-
ment of these ends, it yet cannot look down with an ap-
proving or disapproving perception upon the region or
sphere of its natural powers; it evidently has no perception
of any moral superiority in itself over the most vulgar
worm that crawls. But if brute creatures were capable of
moral consciousness, they would be capable of elevation in

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

the scale of being; and this little insect, the bee, judging
from its actions, would, were it capable of that species of
consciousness, not only rank above most of the larger classes
of animals, but would, on the score of fidelity and integ-
rity, put human nature to the blush.

Were it not that much has been said in favour of the al-
leged moral consciousness of brutes, it might perhaps be im-
pertinent to proceed further in the endeavour to disprove it;
but so strong are appearances in its favour, that, although
we deny the affirmative in the abstract, by an unequivocal
assent to the proposition, that brutes are not accountable
beings; yet we are too ready to admit it in particular in-
stances, in which we are wont to ascribe a moral conscious-
ness to the particular moral action we see performed by an
animal. There is a strong tendency to mistake the cause
Instrumental for the cause principal, in this as in other
cases; by which we ai-e insensibly led to assign the sum
total of the attribute to the visible agent, without stopping
to consider further of the matter. Thus gratitude, which
is a moral quality in man, is thought to be moral also in the
dog; but surely no one, upon mature consideration of the
subject, will imagine that the dog reflects on the inclination
or desire he feels to act in a manner which we view as grate-
ful, and that he is pleased with the survey and reflection; —
tliat the moral quality of his actions becomes objective to
him; — and yet tliis is absolutely necessary in order to con-
stitute a moral consciousness; for, to eflect this, it is not
only necessary that the action be outwardly, or in effect
moral, but that this moral action be reflected upon as such,
in order that its moral quality may be thus perceived and
felt. Moral consciousness can only be produced by the
moral quality of the action becoming objective — by its being
reflected upon from a superior eminence, and in a superior
light, — by a soul within and above the lower, animal, or
natural mind. But that brutes do not possess this higher
conscious faculty, or soul, is made evident by this; — that if
a particular individual of a species did possess it, such indi-
vidual would be necessarily raised by it, as to its nature,
which does not, in any case, occur. Thus, with respect to
the gratitude and fidelity of the dog, no greater apparent
moral sagacity can be exercised by any animal; yet being
totally unable to contemplate his gratitude or fidelity in the
abstract, as objects of a superior perception and conscious-
ness, those virtues are to him as if they existed not: — to
man alone this moral consciousness is proper, to the animal
it is absolutely a nonentity; he is not in the smallest degree
more moral on account of his apparent moral qualities, for
they are indeed only apparently his own, because they do
not reach down, if I may be allowed the expression, to the
seat of his proper consciousness; but consist in powers or
energies which act above it: he possesses an apparent
Dd

moral sagacity, but without any moral consciousness or per-
ception concerning it. To make this plain by an example:
the dog, if he saves his master from drowning, or preserves
his life in any more remarkable manner, such as that in the
instance we have before related, reflects not upon any
moral nobleness or disinterestedness in the action; he is not
at all the more refined for having performed an action,
which, morally considered, would tend to raise his nature;
on the contrary, he lives on as before, like the rest of his
canine brethren, in no respect more elevated in the scale
of being: and yet it is certain that in this action his highest
natural powers of proper volition, and mental discrimina-
tion and comparison, which we may term moral sagacity,
have been brought into full exercise.

But it will, perhaps, be objected, that animals experience
delight in the exercise of moral qualities, as such; the dog,
for instance, in gratitude. I answer, that every animal
must necessarily have a delight annexed to that exercise of
its powers by which it fulfils the end of its being: and the
dog, as the natural guardian of man, has natural inclinations
implanted in him, for the purpose of rendering him such;
but his delight in the exercise of the inclinations, even
when they are directed to moral acts, is purely natural,
and in no wise 'moral: for, as already observed, no one in
tliis case will imagine that the dog either reflects upon his
gratitude, or is pleased with it as a moral quality. On the
contrary, it is plain that the animal's delight is solely owing
to its conscious mind being determined to the exercise of
its natural qualities or inclinations, which are those of mo-
rally unconscious obedience and friendship to man; this
being the end for which he is created.

The horse, who in his aptitude for war, discovers a
quality necessary to render him instrumental in redress-
ing the injuries of man, is characterised as an emulous and
a generous animal; yet neither generosity nor emulation,
considered as moral qualities, are objects of reflection to
him; if they were, miserable indeed would be the fate of
the devoted charger, whose latter existence is spent in the
metamorphosis of a poor, patient, unpitied hack. But in
the adorable economy of the Creator, it is provided that
the sufierings of this noble animal shall be natural merely:
he is incapable of being made conscious by reflection, either
of the generosity, the emulation, or the pride, which his
actions may have exhibited: although he has shown them
all, they have not become objective to him, inasmuch as he
is unfurnished with a morally conscious soul, by which
alone this could be effected; and it is happy for him that
neither glory nor emulation can be attributed to him, other-
wise than as the unconscious subject in which those high
qualities are exhibited.

The mutual fidelity between the sexes, observable in

106

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

doves and other birds, forms a distinguished feature in them in as many strange nests, belonging to these little
moral instinct; yet we cannot suppose that the virtue of birds; for she never builds herself: she acts, in fact, as if
chastity or of conjugal fidelity is at all intended by the crea- she calculated exactly what should and what would be
ture, or attributable to it; although its actions are precisely done by others, for the rearing of her progeny. Another
the same as if such moral end were contemplated and in- very curious circumstance noticed by Dr. Jenner, in con-
tended by it: the polygamous species, indeed, have a claim nection with his remarks on the natural history of the
equally as good as the monogamous, to the virtue of chastity, cuckoo, is the power exercised by birds, — which, he says,
as far as regards their oivn conscious nature. But surely may arise from " so7ne hidden cause in the animal econo-
there must be moral powers which act upon and guide the my," either of retarding or of accelerating the pro-
natures of animals in order to produce these eflects, while duction of their eggs, according to circumstances. Moral
the creature is accessary, in apparent freedom, and uncon- and intellectual design and active energy, above the con-
scious of the power thus exerted on it; the wonderful ex- scious faculties of the creature, is surely evident in all this;
hibition of conjugal and social affections in some species of for the creature is not a mere piece of mechanism, but has
marine animals, in the Trichechi Boreales, for instance, is a manifest conscious freedom in the performance of its
altogether superior to what can be explained upon any other peculiar natural acts; but which freedom is thus as mani-
principles; they will die in protecting their mates and each festly controlled by superior influences, of which it is un-
other. In their manners they are peaceable and harmless, conscious. How, otherwise, can we possibly account for
bearing the strongest attachment to each other; but when the incessant endeavours of the young cuckoo to dislodge
attacked, some will strive to overset the boat, by going be- its fellow inmates of the nest, while, as yet, it has scarcely
neathit; others fling themselves on the rope of the hook by extricated itself from the egg: it cannot reflect upon the
which their comrade is held, and endeavour to break it; necessity of its operations, either for ultimate preservation,
while others again make efforts to wrench the instrument or for present convenience; yet it acts as if it did, and
out of the body of their wounded companion: none desert takes the most effectual means for the accomplishment of
him, but persist in their courageous efforts for his rescue, those ends. Will those who attribute design to such ac-
even to the last! Their attachment to their mates is, if tions, say, that the design of taking the immediate steps
possible, still more astonishing, and cannot be contemplated necessary for the preservation of the creature can reside
without exciting the most vivid S3^mpathy and admiration, within its own consciousness? It surely cannot. — The
It is indeed the most perfect lesson of fidelity and heroic final purposes which are the primary motives of its ac-
devotion. If in this case we could suppose the creatures tions, are far above what it can either conceive or survey;
capable of reflecting upon the nature of their actions, which otherwise the cuckoo must indeed be a " rara avis in ter-
are the evident results of a moral influence, what must we ris," a feathered philosopher of no mean or despicable
think of them? — or rather, what must we not think of talent.

them? For it is to be observed, that this conduct is ac?a/;f- One of the strongest instances of apparent moral sa-
ed to circumstances, and discovers an apparent rational gacity, is that well-known one recorded of the elephant,
discrimination, as well as an apparent moral conscious- which is said to have taken place in Delhi. An elephant
ness, in the means employed by the creatures towards the having killed his Cornac, or governor, it is related that the
accomplishment of the ends which the exigency suggests. man's wife, in despair, threw her two children before the
The controlling energies which direct the limited con- animal, saying, " Now you have destroyed their father,
scious powers of brute creatures to particular ends, are you may as well put an end to their lives and mine," —
wonderfully displayed again in the economy of the cuckoo, upon which the animal, relenting, and taking up the big-
which lays its eggs in the nest of the hedge-sparrow, and in gest of the children with his trunk, placed him upon his
those of other small birds; these birds, so far from molest- neck, and having thus adopted him for his Cornac, would
ing the young intruder, — who, in a singularly curious man- never afterwards permit any other person to mount him.
ner, expels its companions, the small birds' progeny, from In this case we cannot suppose the animal to have reflected
the nest, in order that itself may be exclusively and ade- upon the deed of slaughter he had committed as lorong,
quately fed by the parents, — feed and cherish it, till it ar- nor upon the act of atonement or reconciliation as right,
rives at nearly its full growth; that is, until it is four or without making him an accountable agent; there are, how-
five times the size of the foster-parents. The cuckoo, as ever, the strongest possible features of right and wrong, in
if conscious that one of her overgrown nurslings would be the two acts and their attendant circumstances, which must
quite sufficient for tlie hedge-sparrow or wagtail to attend unquestionably belong to an agency above the proper con-
to and provide for, although she lays several eggs, deposits sciousness of the creature. For we have here a case of

AND A]VIERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

107

moral exigency, and also of reasoning and intellectual exi-
gency; so much of moral and intellectual motive adapted
to the circumstances and moral requirement of the case,
that if the cause principal be referred to any power within
the consciousness of the creature, we must inevitably pro-
nounce it to be a moral and intellectual being. But surely
we shall not assert this from the mere appearance of the
thing, and without reference to the general quality of the
animal's nature as a ivhole, which clearly, and for the
reasons I have already dwelt upon, marks its limit, and de-
signates it to be neither moral nor intellectual as to its pro-
per consciousness ; — thus not at all so in itself, but only
apparently so, by being acted upon by some power or
agency aljove the stream of its consciousness; and which
agency must unquestionably be of a moral and intellectual
character, or it never could impel the animal to the exercise
of those powers of which it is conscious, in the perform-
ance of actions possessing the strongest possible moral cha-
racteristics. ( To be Continued.)

DWARFS.

Among the varieties of nature in the human species, we
may reckon Dwarfs and Giants. Deceived by some optical
illusion, the ancient historians gravely mention whole na-
tions of pigmies as existing in remote quarters of the world.
The more accurate observations of the moderns, however,
convince us that these accounts are entirely fabulous.

The existence, therefore, of a pigmy race of mankind,
being founded in error or in fable, we can expect to find
men of diminutive stature only by accident, among men of
the ordinary size. Of these accidental dwarfs, every coun-
try, and almost every village can produce numerous in-
stances. There was a time when these unfavourable chil-
dren of Nature were the peculiar favourites of the great,
and no prince, or nobleman, thought himself completely
attended, unless he had a dwarf among the number of his
domestics. These poor little men were kept to be laughed
at, or to raise the barbarous pleasure of their masters, by
their contrasted inferiority. Even in England, as late as
the time of King James the First, the court was at one time
furnished with a dwarf, a giant, and a jester. These the
king often took a pleasure in opposing to each other, and
often fomented quarrels among them, in order to be a con-
cealed spectator of their animosity.

It was in the same spirit that Peter of Russia, in the
year 1710, celebrated a marriage of dwarfs. This monarch,
though raised by his native genius far above a barbarian,
was, nevertheless, still many degrees removed from actual

refinement. His pleasures, therefore, were of the vulgar
kind; and this was among the number. Upon a certain
day, which he had ordered to be proclaimed several months
before, he invited the whole body of his courtiers, and all
the foreign ambassadors, to be present at the marriage of a
pigmy man and woman. The preparations for this wedding
were not only very grand, but executed in a style of bar-
barous ridicule. He ordered, that all the dwarf men and
women, within two hundred miles, should repair to the
capital; and also insisted, that they should be present at the
ceremony. For this purpose, he supplied them with proper
vehicles; but so contrived it, that one horse was seen car-
rying a dozen of them into the city at once, while the mob
followed shouting and laughing from behind. Some of
them were at first unwilling to obey an order, which they
knew was calculated to turn them into ridicule, and did not
come; but he soon obliged them to obey; and, as a punish-
ment, enjoined that they should wait upon the rest at din-
ner. The whole company of dwarfs amounted to seventy,
beside the bride and bridegroom, who were richly adorned,
and in the extremity of the fashion. For this company in
miniature, every thing was suitably provided; a low table,
small plates, little glasses, and, in short, every thing was
so fitted, as if all things had been dwindled to their own
standard. It was his great pleasure to see their gravity
and their pride; the contention of the women for places,
and the men for superiority. This point he attempted to
adjust, by ordering that the most diminutive should take
the lead; but this bred disputes, for none would then con-
sent to sit foremost. All this, however, being at last set-
tled, dancing followed the dinner, and the ball was opened
with a minuet by the bridegroom, who measured exactly
three feet two inches high. In the end matters were so
contrived, that this little company, who met together in
gloomy pride, and unwilling to be pleased, being at last fa-
miliarized to laughter, joined in the diversion, and became,
as the journalist tells us, extremely sprightly and entertain-
ing.

But the most complete history of a dwarf is preserved
by M. Daubenton, in his Natural History. This dwarf,
whose name was Baby, was well known, having spent the
greatest part of his life at Luneville, in the palace of Stan-
islaus, the titular king of Poland. He was born in the vil-
lage of Plaisne, in France, in the year 1741. His father
and mother were peasants, both of good constitutions, and
inured to a life of husbandry and labour. Bab}', when born,
weighed but a pound and a quarter. We are not informed
of the dimensions of his body at that time, but we may
conjecture they were very small, as he was presented on a
plate to be baptized, and for a long time lay in a slipper.
His mouth, although proportioned to the rest of his body.

'■iki

108

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

was not, at that time, large enough to take in the nipple;
and he was, therefore, obliged to be suckled by a she-goat
that was in the house; and that served as a nurse, attending
to his cries with a kind of maternal fondness. He began
to articulate some words when eighteen months old; and
at two years he was able to walk alone. He was then fitted
with shoes that were about an inch and a half long. He
was attacked with several acute disorders; but the small-
pox was the only one which left any marks behind it.
Until he was six years old, he ate no other food but pulse,
potatoes, and bacon. His father and mother were, from
their povert}', incapable of affording him any better nour-
ishment; and his education was little better than his food,
being bred up among the rustics of the place. At six years
old he was about fifteen inches high; and his whole body
weighed but thirteen pounds. Notwithstanding this, he
was well proportioned and handsome; his health was good,
but his understanding scarcely passed the bounds of instinct.
It was at that time that the king of Poland, having heard of
such a curiosity, had him conveyed to Luneville, gave him
the name of Baby, and kept him in his palace.

Baby, having thus quitted the hard condition of a pea-
sant, to enjoy all the comforts and the conveniences of life,
seemed to receive no alteration from his new way of living,
either in mind or person. He preserved the goodness of
his constitution till about the age of sixteen, but his body
seemed to increase very slowly during the whole time;
and his stupidity was such, that all instructions were lost in
improving his understanding. He could never be brought
to have any sense of religion, nor even to show the least
signs of a reasoning faculty. They attempted to teach
him dancing and music, but in vain; he never could make
any thing of music; and as for dancing, although he beat
time with tolerable exactness, yet he could never remember
the figure, but while his dancing-master stood by to direct
his motions. Notwithstanding, a mind thus destitute of
understanding was not without its passions, anger and
jealousy.

At the age of sixteen, Baby was twenty-nine inches high;
at this he rested; but having thus arrived at his acme, the
alterations of puberty, or rather, perhaps, of old age,
came fast upon him. From being very beautiful, the poor
little creature now became quite deformed; his strength
quite forsook him; his back bone to bend; his head hung
forward; his legs grew weak; one of his shoulders turned
awry, and his nose grew disproportionably large. With
his strength, his natural spirits also forsook him; and, by
the time he was twenty, he was grown feeble, decripid,
and marked with the strongest impression of old age. It
had been before remarked by some, that he would die of
old age before he arrived at thirty; and, in fact, by the

time he was twenty-two, he could scarcely walk a hun-
dred paces, being worn with the multiplicity of his years,
and bent under the burthen of protracted life. In this year
he died; a cold, attended with a slight fever, threw him
into a kind of lethargy, which had a few momentary inter-
vals; but he could scarcely be brought to speak. However,
it is asserted that in the last five days of his life, he showed
a clearer understanding than in his times of best health:
but at length he died, after enduring great agonies, in the
twenty-second year of his age.

Baby, it is evident, was a creature calculated rather to
excite pity or disgust than any other feeling, — a being as
stunted in mind as in bod}^. But to these diminutive beings
Nature does not always forget to give intellectual faculties.
Jeffery Hudson, to whom Buffon alludes as the dwarf of
the English court, was a brave and intelligent man. He
killed, in a duel, Mr. Cutts, who had insulted him; and he
served as a captain in the royal army. In modern times,
we have seen an instance of a dwarf possessed of every
mental and personal accompJishment. Count Borulawski
was the son of a Polish nobleman attached to the party of
King Stanislaus, and who lost his property in consequence
of that attachment. His father had six children, three
dwarfs, and three of the ordinary stature; and it is a singu-
lar circumstance, that they were born alternately, a big and
a little one. The count's youngest sister, who died at the
age of twenty-three, was of a much more diminutive size
than he was. He grew till he was thirty, when he was
three feet two inches in height. The proportions of his
figure were perfectly correct, which is rarely the case with
dwarfs, and his look was manly and noble. His manners
were full of grace and politeness; his temper was good;
and he possessed a lively wit, united with an excellent
memory and a sound judgment. Till the age of forty-one,
he lived, in the enjo)-ment of perfect health, and of all the
comforts of life, under the patronage of a lady who was a
friend of the family. He then married a lady, of the mid-
dle size, by whom he had three children, none of whom
were dwarfs. To procure the means of subsistence for his
family, he at first gave concerts in the principal cities of
Germany; on which occasions he played upon the guitar,
of which instrument he was a perfect master. At Vienna
he was persuaded to turn his thoughts to England, where
it was supposed that the public curiosity would in a little
time benefit him sufliciently to enable him to live inde-
pendent in a country so cheap as Poland. Borulawski ac-
cordingly visited England, where he was admired, and ex-
tensively patronized, by the nobility and gentry. He
exhibited himself in most of the principal cities and towns,
and wherever he went he gained friends. Borulawski died
a few years since. He published his own Memoirs. Buffon.

ariffon Vulture

I

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

109

GOOSANDER.

MERGUS MERGJINSER.

[Plate X.— Male.]

VHarle, Briss iv. p. 231. 1. pi. 22. — Buff, viii, p.
267. pi. 23. — Arct. Zool. No. 465.— Lath. Syn. in.
p. 418. Mergus Merganser, Gmel, Syst. i. p. 544.
No. 2.— Lath. Ind. Orn. p. 828, No. l.—Le Harle,
Buff. PI. Enl. 951, male. — Grand Harle, Temm.
Man d'Orn. p. 881. — J. Doughty's Collection.

This large and handsomely marked bird belongs to a
genus different from that of the Duck, on account of the
particular form and serratures of its bill. The genus is cha-
racterised as follows: ^^ Bill toothed, slender, cylindrical,
hooked at the point; nostrils small, oval, placed in the
middle of the bill; feet four toed, the outer toe longest."
Naturalists have denominated it Merganser. In this coun-
try, the birds composing this genus are generally known
by the name of Fishermen, or Fisher ducks. The whole
number of known species amount to only nine or ten, dis-
persed through various quarters of the world; of these, four
species, of which the present is the largest, are known to
inhabit the United States.

From the common habit of these birds in feeding almost
entirely on fin and shell fish, their flesh is held in little es-
timation, being often lean and rancid, both smelling and
tasting strongly of fish; but such are the various peculiari-
ties of tastes, that persons are not wanting who pretend to
consider them capital meat.

The Goosander, called by some the Water Pheasant, and
by others the Sheldrake, Fisherman, Diver, &c. is a win-
ter inhabitant only of the seashores, fresh water lakes, and
rivers of the United States. They usually associate in small
parties of six or eight, and are almost continually diving in
search of food. In the month of April they disappear,
and return again early in November. Of their particular
place and manner of breeding, we have no account. Mr.
Pennant observes that they continue the whole year in the
Orknies, and have been shot in the Hebrides, or Western
islands of Scotland, in summer. They are also found in
Iceland and Greenland, and are said to breed there; some
asserting that they build on trees; others that they make
their nests among the rocks.

The male of this species is twenty-six inches in length,

and three feet three inches in extent, the bill three inches

long, and nearly one inch thick at the base, serrated on

both mandibles; the upper overhanging at the tip, where

Ee

each is furnished with a large nail; the ridge of the bill is
black, the sides crimson red: irides red; head crested,
tumid, and of a black colour glossed with green, which ex-
tends nearly half way down the neck, the rest of which,
with the breast and belly, arc white tinged with a delicate
yellowish cream: back and adjoining scapulars black; pri-
maries and shoulder of the wing brownish black; exterior
part of the scapulars, lesser coverts, and tertials white;
secondaries neatly edged with black, greater coverts white,
their upper halves black, forming a bar on the wing, rest of
the upper parts and tail brownish ash: legs and feet the co-
lour of red sealing wax; flanks marked with fine semicircu-
lar dotted lines of deep brown; the tail extends about three
inches beyond the wings.

This description was taken from a full pUimaged male.
The young males, which are generally much more nume-
rous than the old ones, so exactly resemble the females in
their plumage for at least the first, and part of the second
year, as scarcely to be distinguished from them; and what
is somewhat singular, the crests of these and of the females
are actually longer than those of the full grown male,
though thinner towards its extremities. These circum-
stances have induced some late Ornithologists to consider
them as two different species, the young, or female, having
been called the Dun Diver. By this arrangement they
have entirely deprived the Goosander of his female; for
in the whole of my examinations and dissections of the
present species, I have never yet found the female in his
dress. What I consider as undoubtedly the true female of
this species, is figured beside him. They were both shot
in the month of April, in the same creek, unaccompanied
by any other, and on examination the sexual parts of each
were strongly and prominently marked. The windpipe
of the female had nothing remarkable in it; that of the
male had two very large expansions, which have been
briefly described by Willoughby, who says: " It hath a
large bony labyrinth on the windpipe, just above the diva-
rications; and the windpipe hath besides two swellings out,
one above another, each resembling a powder puff. " These
labyrinths are the distinguishing characters of the males,
and are always found even in young males who have not
yet thrown off the plumage of the female, as well as in the
old ones. If we admit these Dun divers to be a distinct
species, we can find no difference between their pretended
females and those of the Goosander, only one kind of fe-
male of this sort being known, and this is contrary to the
usual analogy of the other three species, viz. the Red
breasted Merganser, the Hooded and the Smew, all of
whose females are well known, and bear the same com-
parative resemblance in colour to their respective males,
the length of crest excepted, as the female Goosander we

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

have figured bears to him. Having thought thus much
necessary on this disputed point, I leave each to form his
own opinion on the facts and reasoning produced.

GOLDEN-EYE.

^N^S CLANGULA.

[Plate X.]

Ze Garrot, Briss. vi. p. 416. 27. pi. 37. fig. 2. — Buff.
IX. p. 222.— Jirct. Zool. No. 486. — Lath. Syn. in.
p. 535.— Le Garrot, PI. Enl. 802. — Morrillon, Arct.
Zool. II. p. 300. F.—Br, Zool. No. 276, 277.— Lath.
Svpp. II. p. 535, No. 26, — Ind. Orn. p. 867, No. 87;
*2. glancion, Id. p. 868, No. 88. — Gmel. Syst. i. p.
523, No. 23; Id. p. 525, No. 26.— Temm. Man.d'Otn.
I. p. 870. — Bewick, ii. p. 330. — J. Doughty's Col-
lection.

This Duck is well known in Europe, and in various
regions of the United States, both along the seacoast and
about the lakes and rivers of the interior. It associates in
small parties, and may easily be known by the vigorous
whistling of its wings, as it passes through the air. It
swims and dives well; but seldom walks on shore, and then
in a waddling awkward manner. Feeding chiefly on shell
fish, small fry, &c. their flesh is less esteemed than that of
the preceding. In the United States they are only winter
visitors, leaving us again in the month of April, being then
on their passage to the north to breed. They are said to
build, like the wood duck, in hollow trees.

The Golden-eye is nineteen inches long, and twenty-nine
in extent, and weighs on an average about two pounds; the
bill is black, short, rising considerably up in the forehead;
tlie plumage of the head and part of our neck is somewhat
tumid, and of a dark green with violet reflections, marked
near the corner of the mouth with an oval spot of white;
the irides are golden yellow; rest of the neck, breast, and
whole lower parts white, except the flanks, which are
dusky; back and wings black; over the latter a broad bed
of white extends from the middle of the lesser coverts to
the extremity of the secondaries; the exterior scapulars are
also white; tail hoary brown; rump and tail coverts black;
legs and toes reddish orange; webs very large, and of a

dark purplish brown; hind toe and exterior edge of the
inner one broadly finned; sides of the bill obliquely den-
tated; tongue covered above with a fine thick velvetty
down of a whitish colour.

The full plumaged female is seventeen inches in length,
and twenty-seven inches in extent; bill brown, orange near
the tip; head and part of the neck brown, or very dark
drab, bounded below by a ring of white; below that the
neck is ash, tipt with white; rest of the lower parts white;
wings dusky, six of the secondaries and their greater
coverts pure white, except the tips of the last, which are
touched with dusky spots; rest of the wing coverts cinerous,
mixed with whitish; back and scapulars dusky, tipt with
brown; feet dull orange; across the vent a band of cine-
rous; tongue covered with the same velvetty down as the
male.

The young birds of the first season very much resemble
the females; but may generally be distinguished by the
white spot, or at least its rudiments, which marks the cor-
ner of the mouth. Yet, in some cases, even this is variable,
both old and young male birds occasionally wanting the spot.

From an examination of many individuals of this species
of both sexes, I have very little doubt that the Morillon of
English writers {Jinas glaucion) is nothing more than the
young male of the Golden-eye.

The conformation of the trachea, or windpipe of the
male of this species, is singular. Nearly about its middle
it swells out to at least five times its common diameter, the
concentric hoops or rings, of which this part is formed, fall-
ing obliquely into one another when the windpipe is relax-
ed; but when stretched, this part swells out to its full size,
rings being then drawn apart; this expansion extends for
about three inches; three more below this it again forms
itself into a hard cartilaginous shell, of an irregular figure,
and nearly as large as a walnut; from the bottom of this
labyrinth, as it has been called, the trachea branches ofi" to
the two lobes of the lungs; that branch which goes to the
left lobe being three times the diameter of the right. The
female has nothing of all this. The intestines measure five
feet in length, and are large and thick.

I have examined many individuals of this species, of
both sexes and in various stages of colour, and can therefore
affirm, with certainty, that the foregoing descriptions are
correct. Europeans have differed greatly in their accounts
of this bird, from finding males in the same garb as the
females; and other full plumaged males destitute of the
spot of white on the cheek; but all these individuals bear
such evident marks of belonging to one peculiar species,
that no judicious naturalist, with all these varieties before
him, can long hesitate to pronounce them the same.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

ANGLING.

[The following treatise on Angling, compiled from the
works of several eminent writers, is respectfully submit-
ted to those who feel interested in this most delightful
amusement.]

There is not, perhaps, a greater variety in the faces, than
in the favourite pursuits of men. And this variety, which
in many cases seems extraordinary, and almost unaccount-
able, conduces as much to the happiness of the individual,
as to the advantages of nations. This reflection naturally
arises in the mind of the attentive observer, when he sees
the enthusiasm with which many, and even those of lively
tempers, pursue angling as an amusement. That a man
should have a fondness for the active and inspiring toils of
the chace, is what all, except lethargic people, can con-
ceive; but that any, and particularly among the young,
should take delight in merely throwing a line, and standing
for hours poring upon a piece of water, seems to most men
perfectly strange. Yet we all know there are many who
follow this apparently dull, tedious and languid amusement,
with a perseverance that nothing can overcome, and even
with the poignancy of enjoyment which the shooter re-
ceives, when he finds birds in abundance, or the hunter,
when he follows the hounds in full cry after the fox, who
has broke cover.

Angling, however, though it would be a severe punish-
ment to those who have no taste for it, from what they

consider its dullness, must be admitted by all to be at least
a most healthful exercise. Perhaps none is more capable
of retoning a stomach which has been weakened by luxury.
Its power to produce hunger is well known to all anglers.
This arises partly from the exercise, the sharpness of the
air on the banks of streams, and from being in sight of so
much of what raises only the idea of quenching thirst. To
those whose constitutions have been enervated by a too
sedentary life, or by dissipation, we would earnestly re-
commend it, as it does not, like most other rural amuse-
ments, over-fatigue by the violence of exercise required.
It affords a gentle exercise which, with the free circulation
of pure air on the banks of trout streams, or large rivers,
lends to recruit nature, and re-invigorate the system, by a
sure, though a slow progress.

There is a considerable degree of skill and experience
required to find out the various kinds of flies that frequent
certain streams, and to make artificial ones like them, or
to prepare those kinds of bait the best calculated to allure
the harmless fishes to their destruction. The scientific an-
gler likewise knows well the influence of certain states of
the atmosphere, cloudy or clear, in his art; what degree of
warmth or cold, is best, or from which point the wind must
blow, and how high or low, or what state the stream should
be in after much rain, in order to insure success. With
respect to the rapid trout streams of the north, the angler
never fails to prepare his fishing tackle, when they have been
in a state of red flood, to be ready, when they return to what

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

is called the black state, which is the intermediate one be-
tween the former and that of their ordinary limpidness and
purity. The red or muddy state, they say, renders the
trout sick, and in the black they return to more than their
usual appetite. A heavy summer shower is favourable for
catching trout. Anglers tell us, that it beats the fly into
the water, and prevents the fishes from perceiving the dis-
tinction between the real and artificial: and, as to be wet-
ted to the skin is nothing to those who are really fond of
the sport, great quantities are often taken during these
showers.

Some imagine, there is little or no art in angling, but
that the whole consists in drawing out the fish, after it has
fixed itself to the fatal hook. That there is something more
than this, however, and that both skill and dexterity are
necessary to success, is proved from a fact known to all.
Experienced anglers will catch numbers, while, in the
same part of the stream, and under similar circumstances in
other respects, those who are inexperienced, though they
may get many a nibble, will not catch one.

The well known methods of catching fish, consist of net-
ting, snaring, bobbing, and angling with rod, hook and line,
and variety of baits, living, artificial, or dead; and in the
United States is not confined to particular places, but in
every river, creek, brook, pond or lake, with which the
country is so well provided, and the fish which claim the
most attention of those who follow it as a sport, are the
salmon, trout, rockfish, pike, chub, perch, catfish, eels,
sunfish and roach, beside others which are peculiar to the
lakes. The salmon is both a fresh and salt-water fish, and
divides its time pretty equally between the two, but is
more generally confined to the north, or climates of low
temperature. When they have once entered a river, their
progress is not easily stopped, frequently ascending those
of the greatest length, and remarkable for their rapidity
and strong vortexes. They always have their heads to the
stream; and their muscular power must be very great, as
they shoot up the rapids with the velocity of arrows. They
are sensitive and delicate in the extreme, and equally avoid
water that is turbid or tainted, and that which is dark with
woods, or any other shade. They serve as a sort of wea-
ther glasses, as they leap and sport above the surface of the
water, before rain or wind; but during violent weather,
especially if there be thunder, they keep close to the bot-
tom; and they either hear better than many other species
of fish, or they are more sensible to these concussions of
the air produced by sound, as any loud noise on the bank
throws them into a state of agitation . When their progress
is interrupted by a cascade, they make wonderful efforts to
surmount it by leaping; and as they continue to do that at
places which a salmon has never been known to ascend,

their instinct cannot be to go to the particular spot where
they were spawned, but simply to some small and shallow
stream.

There is scarcely any time, unless when it thunders, or
when the water is thick with mud, but you may chance to
tempt the salmon to rise to an artificial fly. But the most
propitious are critical moments; or, undoubtedly, when,
clearing after a flood, the water has turned to a light whey,
or rather brown colour; when the wind blows pretty fresh,
approaching to a mackerel gale, against the stream or course
of the river; when the sun shines through showers, or
when the cloudy rack runs fast and thick, and at intervals
discovers the pure blue ether from above. In these situa-
tions of the water and of the weather, you may always de-
pend upon excellent sport.

The most difiicult thing for a beginner, is to throw the
line far, neatly, and to make the fly first touch the water.
A few attentive trials will, however, bring him to do it
with dexterity.

It should always be across the river, and on the far side,
when you expect the fish to rise. If he appears, do not be
too eager to strike, but give him time to catch the fly; then,
with a gentle twist, fix the hook in his lip or mouth; if he
is hooked in a bone, or feels sore, he will shoot, spring and
plunge, with so much strength and vehemence, as to make
the reel run with a loud whizzing noise, and your arms to
shake and quiver most violently. In this situation, take
out the line from the winch quickly, though with compo-
sure, keeping it always at the same time stretched, but yet
ever ready to yield to his leaping. Do not let it run to any
great length, as it is then apt to be unmanageable, but rather
follow him, and if he comes nearer, j-ou retire, and wind
up as fast as possible, so as to have the line tight, and hold
your rod nearly in a perpendicular situation. When he
becomes calmer, he often turns sullen, and remains motion-
less at the bottom of the water. Then cast a few stones
upon the spot where you think he is, and this, in all proba-
bility, will rouse him from his inactive position. Be cau-
tious in the lifting and the throwing of them, as the salmon
may spring at that instant, and break your tackle, should
you be off your guard. Being again in motion, he gene-
rally takes his way up the current: do not then check him,
as by this way his strength will be the sooner exhausted.
When, now fatigued, and no longer able to keep his direc-
tion, he once more tries all his wiles in disengaging himself
from the guileful and hated hook; he crosses and recrosses,
sweeps and flounces through every part of the pool or
stream; but, finding all his efforts to be vain, he at last,
indignant at his fate, with immense velocity, rushes head-
long down the stream. If the ground is rough or uneven,
or if you cannot keep pace with him, give him line enough,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

and when it slackens, wind up again, until you nearly ap-
proach him. You will then, probably, observe him float-
ing on his side, his motion feeble, and all his vigour gone.
Being unable to make any farther resistance, it behoves you
now to lead him gently to the nearest shelving shore; use
no gaif, as it mangles the fish very much, but take him
softly by the gills into your arms, or throw him, if not too
heavy, upon the top of some adjacent bank.

As the Salmon is seldom in the rivers in time for the
spring fly, the May fly is often imitated as a lure for him,
but is only an imitation, as it has to be made of gigantic
dimensions. The onlj* fly of which a natural imitation
makes a good salmon fly, is the dragon fly. The best baits
are large, gaudy artificial flies, lob-worms, line fish baits,
and muscles from the shell; the hook must be strong and
large; bottom fishing, however, is usually more successful
for salmon than fly fishing.

The TROUT has justly been styled " the monarch of the
brook," not only, perhaps, from the superiority of its meat
over other fish, but from the great diversion in fishing for
tliem, and the superior science required to constitute a suc-
cessful fisherman.

The plan usually followed for trout fishing, by those who
may be called scientific trout-fishers, is with the artificial
fly, attached to a long, fine line, wound upon a reel, which
is fastened to the handle of the pole, and in consequence,
of the great shyness of this fish, stand some distance from
the water, to prevent being seen. The trout is a quick
and sharp biter, and not very particular as to the kind of
fly, rising as well to an artificial as a natural one; but,
being very voracious, they fall victims more generally to
those who are styled bottom fishers: in this case, the bait
consists of lobworm, earth-worm, dung-worm and maggot.
Fishing with an artificial fly is, certainly, a very pleasant
and gentlemanly way of angling, and is attended with much
less labour and trouble than bottom fishing. The fly-fisher-
man has but little to carry, either in bulk or weight, nor
has he the dirty work of digging clay, making ground baits,
&c. &c. He may travel for miles, with a book of flies in
his pocket, and a light rod in his hand, and cast in his bait,
as he roves on the banks of a stream, without soiling his
fingers; it is, therefore, preferred by many to every other
way of angling. Yet fly-fishing is not without it disadvan-
tages, for there are many kinds of fish that will not take a
fly; whereas, all the difierent species which the fresh vvraters
produce, will take a bait at bottom, at some season of the
year; and it is also worthy of notice, that the angler who
fishes at bottom has many months and days in the year,
when the fish will so feed; consequently he has frequent
opportunities of enjoying his amusement, when the fly-
Ff

fisherman is entirely deprived of the chance of sport, by
very cold or wet weather, and the winter season.

Trout delight most in sharp, shallow streams, sometimes
lying under a large stone, or shelving clump, at other times
swimming, and seemingly striving against the stream ;
they are also found in such cold water, that no other fish
can live therein. They will also live in clear, gravelly
and sandy bottomed spring ponds, with a stream running
through, but will not thrive so fast, or breed so well, as in
rivers; after spawning, they retire into deep, still holes,
and under shelving banks, and there remain during the
winter season, in the course of which they become very
poor, and lose the beautiful spots on their bodies, instead
of which they are much infested with a worm or water-
louse, and the heads of trout, at this season, seem much
too large, and their whole appearance is lean, lank, and far
from that of a beautiful fish: but when the days lengthen,
and the sun gets suflicient power to warm and invigorate
the elements, then the trout seems to have a new lease of
his life, leaving his hiding-place, and getting among the
gravel, in rapid parts of the streams, and with much hearty
rubbing, speedily gets rid of his troublesome and filthy
companions, who have so long infested, or stuck to him,
and then soon recovers his former shape and colours.

The next in the catalogue of our favourite fish, ranks the
silvery ROCK fish, and which form not only a subject of
the most common amusement, but is universally known
in all the rivers and smaller tide-water streams throughout
the United States. The manner of fishing, and prepara-
tion necessary for it is so well known that a description is
deemed unnecessarj-, at this time. The following selec-
tion, however, from the American Turf Register and Sport-
ing Magizine, describing the manner in which this fish is
trolled for in the Susquehannah, may not be uninteresting.

<'The season for trolling begins in the latter part of
May, and commonly ends about the middle of July; but
some years lasts during August. In the month of June,
the rock fish generally bite best. To make good fishing,
the river should not be very high nor low, muddy nor clear,
but betwixt extremes, in these respects. If the water be
clear, the fish dart ofi" at sight of the line ; and it is thought,
they leave the rapids, when the river is rising, or muddy,
to feed upon the flats in the Chesapeake.

" Trolling is very much practised from Fort Deposit, to
almost any given distance up the river, but not below. The
grass that the ducks feed upon, grows too thick on the flats
in tide-water for trolling, and the channel is uniformlj"- too
deep. The rapids above, where the water is in manj' parts
shoal, and the rocky bottom clear of grass, is the proper
place for trolling.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

" As I have never seen this method of fishing noticed in
any sporting work, I propose giving such an account of it
as, I hope, a reader who has never witnessed it will under-
stand. The troller provides himself with a convenient
sized, light, well corked skiff; it should be large enough to
carry four persons, without sinking deep in the water. He
must also take care to get two good oarsmen, accustomed to
row among the rapids. The lines generally used are made
of flax, (sometimes of cotton,) and twisted very hard, from
ninety to one hundred and thirty feet long. On each line
there are two brass or steel swivels, one about a foot from
the hook, the other some twenty or more, according to the
length of the line. The lines must be very strong, but not
so thick as to be clumsy, and the steel hooks sharp, with
large barbs. The figures of the hooks are made to vary
according to the notions of their different owners, who fre-
quently have them made to order, by smiths in the neigh-
bourhood. The long-shanked hook is generally esteemed
best. Old trollers are as particular about the shapes of their
hooks, as cockers are about their gaffles. One end of the
line is made fast to a cork or buoy, as large as a common
seine cork. This cork is thrown overboard, when the hook
catches against a stone or the limb of a tree; for the boat is
under such head-way, and the line being nearly all out, if
the fisherman holds on to his line he will break it. He,
therefore, in such case, throws the buoy overboard, by
which he can find his line, and goes back at his leisure to
take it up, and disengage his hook. The bait consists of
small fish, such as anchovies, minnows, chubs, &c. &c. If
the troller intends starting at daybreak, (the usual hour,)
he angles for his bait the afternoon previous, and buries
them in the wet sand by the edge of some convenient
stream, or keeps them in spring water. If they are ex-
posed to the atmosphere during a warm summer night, they
become tender, and tear from the hook.

" Two persons generally fish from the same boat; one of
them steers with one hand, and fishes with the other. Each
fisherman lets his line out over the side of the boat nearest
to him, and close to the stern, (where they sit,) holding it
in his hand, a few inches from the water, and leaves the
end attached to the cork in the bottom of the boat. He
pays out nearly all his line, and keeps constantly pulling it,
by short jerks, to feel if it is running over a rock or tree
top. The boat is rowed as fast as possible across the river,
from shore to shore, above, and as near to the falls as they
can go, to avoid being swept down them. The rock fish
lie below the falls and ripples, waiting for the small fish
that are carried over by the current. Here then the bait
falls over, with a constant rotary motion, like a live fish
whirled over, side foremost, and struggles in vain against
the falls. The swivels turn every time the bait turns, and

prevent the line from twisting up into knots; and as there
are no sinkers, the rapid head-way of the boat drags them
along so fast that the lines have no time to sink. At sight
of the bait tumbling over the falls, the rock-fish darts up-
wards from his cavern in the rocks, and swallows hook
and all. The bite of the rock is quick as lightning, and
gives a sudden jerk to the arm of the fisherman. When
he first discovers he is snared, he rises to the top of the
water, and begins to lash it furiously with his forked tail,
like 'a spirit conjured from the vasty deep,' then plunges
down again to the bottom. He is dragged from thence by
the fisherman, who hauls in his long line, hand over hand,
until he brings his fish alongside of the boat. If he is of
tolerable size, weighing only seven or ten pounds, the trol-
ler lifts him into the boat by the line; but if the fish is
large, he runs his arm down into the water, and lifts him in
by his gills. The excitement that this scene produces in all
those in the boat, is not to be described. One instant you
see the fish making the water foam with his tail, the next
you lose sight of him; one instant the troller feels him jerk-
ing desperately backwards, the next he darts ahead towards
the boat, carrying the line with him; and the fisherman,
who ceases to feel him, is distressed for fear he has broken
loose from the hook. The black oarsmen ease up rowing
to laugh and shout with great glee. The troller's anxiety
to secure his fish is so great, that he alone, of all the com-
pany, is silent, and full of uneasiness, until he gets him into
the boat. In this manner, it is not unusual to catch, with
two lines, ten or twenty fish, varying in weight from five
to twenty pounds each, in an hour — sometimes they are
caught much larger. When the fish do not bite fast, the
troller does not become wearied soon; his line is always
out, and he is in constant expectation of feeling a bite, as
the boat glides backwards and forwards across the river, in
search of luck; he is not confined to one rock, like the
sleepy angler.

" This would be very dangerous sport to persons unac-
customed to it ; let no presumptuous cits venture upon it by
themselves. The flat-bottomed boat must be rowed through
the most dangerous falls and whirlpools in the river. Some-
times she is forced, at an imperceptible progress, against a
current, running down at an angle of forty-five degrees. If
one of the oarsmen happens to fail in strength, or to dip his
oar with a false stroke, the current will snatch it upwards
out of his hands, and the frail skiff will be dashed to pieces
amongst the rocks. Often they are obliged to get out of
the boat on some rock above water, and haul her over. A
person unaccustomed to it, cannot rely upon his senses of
hearing or seeing. He is first deafened by the stunning
roar of the incessant flood, then sickened by the tossing of
the skiff amongst the waves and eddies. The huge rocks

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

that rear themselves thick to oppose the rushing waters,
covered with eagles and cormorants, and the little islands
all see7n to be swimming backwards. And now she flies
across a shoal — at first glimpse the little skill" seems to rest
securely on the bottom; at the next, the solid bottom ap-
pears deceitfully to recede from beneath her, and leave her
to founder in the dark waters of a bottomless swirl. And
again, before he is aware of it, she seems to have approach-
ed so near the falls that nothing can prevent her from going
over side foremost. All these false appearances rushing in
succession, quick as thought, upon the mind of the troubled
cockney, turn his brain with dizziness."

The PERCH is another well known and popular fish, and
in point of beauty ranking nearly equal to the former.
Their favourite places of resort are about bridges, mill
pools, in and near locks, about shipping, floats of timbers in
navigable rivers and canals, and at the entrance of docks;
also in deep and dark still holes, and in bending and still
parts of rivers, at the mouths of sluices and flood gates,
and near the sides where reeds and rushes grow. It is not
necessary to wait long in a place, for if there are any perch
about, and they are inclined to feed, they will soon take
the bait; and if you meet with several of them in a still
hole, and they are well on the feed, with care, you may
often take them all; for, if not disturbed or alarmed by let-
ting one fall from your hook, they will, one after the other,
take the bait almost immediately after it settles in the water.
Give plenty of time when you have a bite, that the fish
may gorge before you strike, for more perch are lost by
the angler striking too soon, when he perceives a bite, than
by breaking the tackle, after they are fairly hooked. It is,
therefore, of the first consequence that the angler, when
fishing for perch where he has reason to think he shall meet
with some heavy ones, to keep cool and collected when he
perceives a bite, giving the perch two or three moments'
time to gorge the bait before he strikes, because he then
has an opportunity of fixing the hook securely in the perch's
paunch, or stomach, from which place it will never draw;
but if you strike too soon, that is, while the baited hook is
only in the mouth, and if you do fix the hook in the roof of
or the side of the mouth, recollect how tender and brittle
that part of the perch is, and how frequently, by his plung-
ing and struggling, the hook tears away from such a tender
or insecure hold ; and when this does not occur, the hole
which the hook has made soon becomes enlarged. If then,
while you are playing a heavy perch, he unfortunately gets
round or among some strong weeds, the line will become
slack about the mouth of the fish, and the hook comes or
draws away from its hold.

Perch abound most in deep, dark, and sluggish rivers,
but in those rivers whose currents run so strong and fast,

search for perch, particularly in the bends and still parts
thereof. When angling in these bends or coves of a river,
or in still places laying under the wind, it is proper to keep,
continuall}', gently moving or drawing your float a little
to the right or left, or to lift it out of the water a few inches
occasionally, and let it gently drop in again, as this way of
acting frequently inclines fish to seize the bait, fearing it is
moving away from them, though they have seen the bait
stationary, but not being much on feed, would not take the
trouble of moving for it, till it seemed likely to make its
escape.

When a heavy perch is hooked, play him until he is
quite spent, before you attempt to land him, fearing he
may be slightly hooked; by thus acting, the reader will see
he not only secures a large perch, but very probably may,
by such careful and skilful way of angling, fill his basket
with them; and they are fish worth all the trouble attend-
ing the taking, either for the anglers' own tables, or for
making a present of: and also further note, that when perch
are well on the feed, and you should be distressed for bait,
you may bait your hook with the eyes of those other fish
you have taken, or the eye of any other fish, and perch
will freely take it. The proper depth to fish for perch is
mid-water, or six inches from the bottom. When fishing
for large perch you should bait with live minnows, or
shrimps, on a floating line; the float should be a cork one,
and of tolerable size; the line of India grass, or choice
twisted gut from four to six yards long. The hooks from
one to three, and size of No. 6. ; the bottom hook tie to
about nine inches of gut; then loop it to the line above this;
about eighteen inches higher up the line place another,
which tie to about three inches and a half of gut; then take
a leaden pellet, with a hole through it about an inch long,
and as thick as a tobacco pipe, and fasten it securely to the
line, within about eighteen inches of the bottom hook,
and about eighteen inches above this, place another hook,
secured as before described, and then your perch line is
complete. Some anglers, when perch fishing in very deep
water, say from sixteen to thirty feet, use four or five hooks
on a line, but three will be found sufiicient for the deepest
water, and in shallower two; because, though it is known
that perch swim at all depths, yet experience will prove
that two to one are killed on the bottom hook to what are
killed with the highest up on the line; therefore, it is ne-
cessary to place the float so as to let the bottom hook nearly
touch the bottom. In still waters, when it is calm, if
3^ou throw in the water occasionally a few handfulls of
loose sand and gravel, it will often move the perch to feed;
but when it is a mild breezy day, the perch are then on the
rove, and will take a bait in good earnest; if there be nei-
ther wind nor rain, your only chance to find perch on the

116

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

feed, is to be after them early in the morning, and again to-
wards night-fall, or evening.

When live minnows, or any other small fish, are used for

bait, the angler should frequently change the water in the

kettle, and take the bait out with a very small net, similar

to those used in removing gold and silver fish, onlj^ of a

smaller mesh; or, if it is made of coarse gauze, it will do,

because, putting a hot hand in the kettle distresses and

alarms the bait, and frequently is the cause of several

of them dying, which sometimes is an irreparable loss for

the day, therefore it is necessary to provide against it.

When fishing for perch, (or where they are small) with a

worm bait, when they bite, let them run about the length

of a yard or two, and then strike smartly: place the float

on the line so that the bait should swim or hang about a

foot from the bottom. The best baits for perch are, live
minnows, or shrimps, the red earth-worm, grubs found
among dung, and at the roots of cabbages, and young wasps.
CHUB-fishing is rendered unpleasant from the circum-
stance of their inhabiting inland streams, in the midst of
rocks, stumps, and waters overgrown with bushes and
trees, and, although beautiful fish, are not very choice food,
and are seldom sought for, unless, indeed, in the absence
of most other fish ; but the well known

SUN fish, the inhabitant of every stream, and pond, is the
first fish to which youth apply their dexterity. This beauti-
ful little fish is not only sought after eagerly by the school-
boy, but the more experienced angler oft times, on the
margin of some lonely stream, enjoys a satisfaction peculiar
to this kind of fishing, where, on the sandy beds beneath
his feet, he carefully watches every motion of this little
fish, sometimes eager to seize the fatal bait, and then sus-
picious of the strange food, smells and darts back ever and
anon, as though conscious his fatal enemy was lurking near
to lure him to destruction.

For Sun fishing, the float line is used altogether, with
very small hooks, say No 8 or 9, baited with earth
worms, and suffered to hang near the bottom of the water. Messrs. Editors,

leaf bursting from the purple bud, — to scent the odours of
the bank, perfumed by the violet, and enamelled, as it
were, with the primrose and the daisy; — to wander upon
the fresh turf, below the shade of trees; — and, on the sur-
face of the waters, to view the gaudy flies sparkling, like
animated gems, in the sunbeams, while the bright, beautiful
trout, is watching them from below; — to hear the twitter-
ing of tlie water birds, who, alarmed at your approach, hide
themselves beneath the flowers and leaves of the water-
lilies; — and, as the season advances, to find all these objects
changed for others of the same kind, but better and brighter,
till the swallow and the trout contend, as it were, for the
gaudy ]May-fl)'; and till, in pursuing your amusement in
the calm and balmy evening, you are serenaded bj' the
cheerful thrush, performing the ofiices of maternal love, in
thickets ornamented with the rose and woodbine."

"There is, indeed, a calmness and repose about angling
which belongs to no other sport, — hardly to any other ex-
ercise. To be alone and silent, amid the beauties of nature,
when she is just shaking off the last emblems of the win-
ter's destruction, and springing into life, fresh, green, and
blooming, — that, that is the charm. The osier bed, as the
supple twigs register every fit of the breeze, displa)' the
down on the under side of their leaves, and play like a sea
of molten silver, for the production of which no slave ever
toiled in the mine; and at that little nook where the stream,
after working itself into a ripple through the thick matting
of confervse and water-lilies, glides silently under the hollow
bank, and lies dark, deep, and still as a mirror, is made ex-
quisitely touching by the pendent boughs of the weeping
willow that stands ' mournfully ever,' over the stilly
stream."

REJOINDER TO I. T. S.

J

They inhabit still waters, altogether, and are to found in
ditches, on the margin of most brooks, and shallow rivers,
with sandy bottoms, mill and other ponds, and the shady
coves of creeks.

A beautiful writer describes angling thus:

" As to its practical relations, it carries us into the most
wild and beautiful scenery of nature; amongst the mountain
lakes, and the clear and lovely streams, that gush from the
higher ranges of elevated hills, or make their way through
the cavities of calcareous strata. How delightful, in the
early spring, after the dull and tedious winter, when the
frosts disappear, and the sunshine warms the earth and
waters, to wander forth by some clear stream, — to see the

I read, with much attention, the reply of I. T. S. to the
remarks submitted by me in a former number on his mode
of Duck Shooting. The arguments used to illustrate his
views on the subject, however convincing to himself, I
must confess have not had sufficient weight with me to
change my way of thinking. A practice of many years at game
of every description, from the snipe to the duck (notwith-
standing the belief of your correspondent to the contrary,
with respect the Litter bird) has full}' satisfied me, that the
correct principle of shooting is not in advance of, but at
the bird, with a swing of the gun proportionate to its flight,
and that the mode adopted by him can never be depended
on with certainty, as it is impossible to lay down any rule

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

as to distance, by which the gun is to be directed in advance
of the bird, its flight varying at times from a greater to a
less degree of velocity, as well as distance. In his essay on
Duck shooting, he admits the necessity, even within the
moderate space of sixty yards, of varying the direction of
the gun from six inches to three or four feet; and I would
ask, if this be the fact, what reliance can be placed on a
mode of shooting liable to so much discretionary exercise
on the part of the sportsman. In the diagram offered, the
data there given, so far from supporting his position, and
elucidating the subject, has only made its fallacy the more
apparent; for if, as he supposes, it takes one second of
time for the passage of the load from the breech to the muz-
zle, and one second for a forward velocity of the contents
in a hundred yards; two seconds must necessarily elapse
before the shot would do execution at that distance: and esti-
mating the flight of the duck at eighty-seven feet the second,
it follows that it would require a direction of the gun twice
eighty-seven feet, or one hundred and seventy-four feet in
advance, in order to overcome the rapidity of its flight; or
take any proportion of the above time, and, according to his
own expression, "the result is the same." This latitude, ,
we should think, would stagger the faith of the oldest Duck
shooter, and even I. T. S. must acknowledge his theory to
be, however philosophically correct, practically unsound
and defective.

In this country, where, from the abundance of game,
and the forbearance of restraint in its pursuit, the science of
shooting, more than in any other, has been brought to its
greatest perfection, the principle advanced by me is acted
upon by the most skilful and practised shots, and its cor-
rectness has been tested upon all game; for, let the bird fly
fast or slow — with the rapidity of a duck, or the sluggishness
of a rail — the sportsman who is governed by it, is satisfied
that its truth can be relied on in every instance. If your
correspondent would but reflect for a moment on the laws
of motion, (and it is only on these, if I understand rightly,
the argument rests, laying aside the opposing properties of
air and gravitation) I think he would at once abandon his
theory of shooting; for it must be evident to the conside-
rate mind that the same laws will apply to the projectile
force of a gun, as to any other object. It is a law of motion
that, if a stone be thrown perpendicularly into the air, it
will fall upon the very spot from whence it was sent; or a
rifle firmly fixed, so as to project a ball in the same perpen-
dicular manner into the air, would, on the descent of the
ball again, receive it back to its original starting-place.
Now it is evident, from the earth's motion, that the projec-
tile body must receive a corresponding impulse, otherwise
this rule could not be correct. It is computed that the mo-
tion of the earth's surface is at the rate of 950 feet in a

second; and if a stone were projected to such an height as to
take but one second for its ascent and descent, it must follow
that, (unless governed by this impulse) when it reached the
ground, it would do so at a distance of 950 feet west of the
spot from whence it was thrown. This effect, we are con-
vinced, cannot take place. The experience of every one
demonstrates to the contrary; for the motion of the earth is
communicated to the stone, in common with all other things
upon its surface. Again, if a ball be dropped from the top
of the mast of a vessel, under rapid sail, it will not fall into
the sea behind the vessel, as might be suspected, but will
arrive on the deck, at the foot of the mast. Also, a per-
son on horseback, riding at a fleetness of a mile in two
minutes, would, by throwing an object perpendicularly into
the air, receive it back into his hand again. Now, as the mo-
tion of the earth is to the stone — the vessel to the ball — the
fleetness of the horse to the object thrown up by the rider — so
exactlyisthe swing of the gun, to the contents projected from
it, at an object in a direct line. To depart from this system of
reasoning, all philosophy is confounded, and rendered use-
less, without any other guide than chance or misapprehen-
sion. Upon this principle, aim might be directed on a bird,
which, if possible, would describe a complete circle around
you, and the gun hold her fire from the commencement
until the bird had completed its flight, and on the discharge
would strike the object, because, acting upon this principle,
which governs nature in her movements, the projected body
cannot be diverted from the line of aim, having partaken of
the motion, as before mentioned. Persons may argue about
allowances before the object; but it certainly does not look
like either practice or science in him who upholds the
theory; and a man may act strictly scientifically, or accord-
ing to the laws before mentioned in shooting, (which, in fact,
as before stated, is the case with all of the best shots) which
practice teaches him is correct, without being able to des-
cribe those laws that govern him in this practice; and a
person may, also, by much experience, be enabled to shoot
with a degree of certainty, on the principle advocated by
your correspondent I. T. S. ; but rules having their foun-
dation in error, can neither be depended on in the many
contingencies of shooting, or recommended to those who
wish to embrace this enchanting science as a recreative
pleasure.

I will merely say a word or two in relation to the
" striking of shot," and I am done. I agree with I. T.
S. as to the fact of shot being heard to strike. This
position I have never denied — it is only against the efli-
cacy of shot, when thus heard, that I contend. In the
discharge of the contents of a gun, the proportion of
shot which take effect on an object at a distance of thirty
yards, to those that glance off, or are diverted from the

11!

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

direct line of aim, is as one to 30, and it may by chance
occur, "when birds, at even a less distance than one hun-
dred yards, are struck, and sufficiently hard to kill in-
stantly," that the sound of the action of the shot may be
heard; but does I. T. S. seriously believe that those shot
which produced this sound are the elfective shot?

Here again, I would refer I. T. S. to the "production
of sound," as a basis of my argument against him. In a
case like this, where ocular demonstration is unavailing, we
can only come to proof by analogous reasoning on philo-
sophy; and, in the first place, I would remark that sound
is created more intensely, frequently, by a weaker, than a
greater force: as, for instance, the stroke of a woodman
with his axe against a tree, is heard at a greater distance
than would the sound produced by a ball propelled by a
cannon, striking against the same object; or a rifle ball
thrown by the hand against a board fence, would be heard
more distinctly, than if propelled by the gun itself; or shot
thrown on crusted snow, will create a rattling noise, when,
if impelled by the gun, it is too indistinct to be heard: and
yet, who does not immediately see the infinite difference
between the propelling powers; and why does this lesser
power create more sound than the greater? Simply, be-
cause, by the action of one body against the other, a vibra-
tory motion is produced in the air by the two sonorous
bodies, and thus the sound is wafted to the ear; but in the
case of the cannon, rifle, or gun, discharging their contents
against the same bodies, their vibration is destroyed by
one entering the other. So a bell, by resisting the clapper,
produces a very great sound; but supposing the clapper
stuck fast to the bell at every stroke, would one-fourth of
the sound be produced? No. Then, just so it is with the
compact feathers of a duck resisting the shot which pro-
duces the sound so much contended for by I. T S. But
the effective shot, being impelled with so much force as to
sink into the flesh (a substance not sonorous) vibration is
destroyed, and it produces no other sound, than by con-
densing the air between the two surfaces, which would be
too indistinct to be heard, even at a very trifling distance.

I shall conclude my remarks, by observing that, how-
ever I may differ in my views of the subject from your cor-
respondent, to receive and compare his ideas, on matters
connected with the science of Shooting, will ever be a
source of gratification and plea.sure to a

SPORTSMAN.

AN EXCURSION TO THE CHESAPEAKE.

In the fall of the year 1829, C. and myself contemplated
visiting the Delaware and Chesapeake Canal, to gratify cu-

riosity in witnessing this important work, and at the same
time indulge in our favourite amusement of shooting, which
the neighborJiood of the Canal, Back Creek, and the Elk
River, abundantly affords. We accordingly started, and
arrived in good condition at Chesapeake City, about two
o'clock of the same day, much gratified with what we had
seen, and delighted at the prospect of abundance of game,
and the after part of the day was spent in reconnoitering
preparative to an early start the next morning. Having
received an invitation from our friend Mr. K., (who is the
owner of some property at a place nearly opposite where
an attempt is making to raise a city, to be called Bohemia
City, but known at present by the name of Tick Town) to
accompany him on a Partridge-shooting excursion, we em-
braced his offer, and, after a day's hunt, without any
thing material occurring, we returned to our hotel, with
but few birds.

Concluding the next day would afibrd us better success,
we determined to set ofl" early, without a guide, and with-
out having any particular place of destination in view. Ac-
cordingly, we started, after an early breakfast, but the
morning being very cool, and having frozen considera-
bly the night before, rendered the ground over which we
walked exceedingly bad, most of it having been newly ^W
turned by the plough, and towards the middle of the day W^
became thawed, which caused it to be slippery, and very
fatiguing to travel over; this, however, was relieved by oc-
casionally flushing a covey of birds. About 12 o'clock we
arrived on the banks of Elk River, the beauty of which
amply repaid us for our walk. Hunger and thirst now
laid their heavy hands upon us, having started without
providing rations for the day, a very unusual circumstance
with us, as we are firm believers in the doctrine of supply-
ing the stomach with at least quant, suff., which caused
us to direct our steps towards the first place likely to fur-
nish us with refreshments; and after following the river
several miles, and noting an innumerable quantity of ducks
with which the river abounds, but entirely out of the range
of our shot, we brought up to a miserable looking house,
just as the old woman and her children were preparing to
sit down to a dinner, composed of such materials as would
have amply repaid a real disciple of the Epicurean school
for a walk of such a distance; it was composed of fine Can-
vass-back and Bald-pate ducks, with coffee. But how great
was our disappointment, when we found the ducks were
cooked without a particle of salt, or seasoning of any kind,
and on asking if they had salt in the house, the answer was
in the negative: when we were thinking about applying a
substitute in ashes, as we had somewhere read the Indians
do, who make use of this as a substitute on their fish — the
little girl recollected an old fish-barrel was in the cellar,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

119

from which a crystal of salt was extracted; and being
mashed between two stones, answered a most admirable
purpose. We now set about our meal in good earnest; but
such a substitute for bread as was arranged before us — being
made of Indian meal, but sour, and of the consistency of
glaziers' tough putty — no vegetables of any kind — the cof-
fee thick, and no sweetening — were sufficient to appal the
keenest appetite, and put a stop to further proceedings. On
asking for sugar, the old woman said she thought herself
doing very well if she could get coffee; sugar, of course,
being a secondary consideration. After making a repast on
such materials, hungry men not being particular, we learn-
ed from the old woman that her son followed Duck-shoot-
ing, and was in the practice of selling his game to Mr. ,

at the tavern where we put up, to which place he had now
gone with some geese, as well as ducks. We determined
to make our way back to the tavern, in the hope of meet-
ing with and engaging him to take us out duck-shooting.
After a fatiguing walk, we arrived just at dark, and had
the pleasure of meeting with this sportsman for profit, ac-
companied by his cousin, who followed the same business.
The first thing was to secure the remaining geese and
ducks, which were left unsold, to our host, our game bags
being in a situation to hold considerable more; and as to re-
turn home without some proof of our being good shots,
after going so great a distance, would only subject us to
the jeers of our friends; we, therefore, speedily arranged
this part of our sport, and then agreed with them to take
us out the next morning, paying a full price for their trou-
ble. The plan of our operations was, that one of them
should station himself on W'elsh's Point, at da3'light, the
chance at that time being the most favourable, while the
other should come for us in the boat. Accordingly, the
next morning, we were up before the day dawned, and
after breakfasting, our man arrived. The weather was cool
and cloudy, which made it exceeding unpleasant to be
rowed a distance of six miles in a small boat, without the
ability of hardly stretching yourself in this miserable mode
of conveyance. On our arrival at the Point, we found our
man; but on inquiry ascertained, to our astonishment, that
he had not thus far shot a duck, and had suSered the most
important part of the day for shooting to pass by. While

we were thus talking, says, " There is a duck you

can shoot;" he immediately fired, and the duck fell into
the water: this seemed a kind of evidence that the fellow
was not telling us the truth, and we began to suspect he
had been shooting and secreting them. One part of our
bargain with these fellows was, to pay them what they asked
for their services, to furnish them with ammunition, and
the game they shot was to be ours. We now commenced
loading our guns, and whilst preparing for action, 's

attention was arrested by the elegant manner in which this
man's dog (a large half-bred Newfoundland) was seen, with-
out any direction from his master, to go into the water, and
bring the duck, and could not refrain from going up to him
and caressing him, when he immediately attacked him, and
bit him in the hand, and lacerated it considerably, the pain
from which alone would, on any ordinary occasion, have
had the effect to destroy his sport for that time.

An innumerable quantity of ducks were now to be seen
swimming in the river and flying in all directions: in fact,
to those who have never been there, and witnessed the
numbers which are oftentimes to be seen, it would be in-
credible. Our men proposed that we should remain on the
Point, whilst they would go out in the boat, and endeavour
to alarm the ducks, so that they should fly across the Point
where we were secreted ; and, as the dog would not stay
with us, they would take him along also, and return in time
to pick up any ducks we should shoot that might fall in the
water. They had not departed but a short time before it
commenced raining, intermixed with snow; but this did
not lessen our zeal, as we soon had several fine canvass-
backs down in the water; but they floated from us, and, as
our men did not come in as they promised, we lost sight of
them entirely, and so in a short time were lost many other
ducks also. Towards the close of the day, a boat was seen
approaching us, which turned out to be our men, and to
compensate us, we expected they had been very successful,
which alone could have induced them to play us such an
unfair game, and leave us so situated as to be prevented
from getting those which we shot, or from leaving the
place we were on, without considerable difficulty. But
judge of our surprise, when these caiti^'s very gravely in-
formed us they had not shot a single duck! Our suspicions
were now confirmed, that they were not content with get-
ting what they asked for their services, but the ready sale,
and high price of these ducks, had operated upon them to
conceal the game until we had departed. Impressed that
no advantage would result from quarrelling with them, we
concluded to make the best of it, and proposed to embark
immediately, as we were wet, and almost perishing with
cold; and after enjoying i\^& pleasures resulting from being
rowed back a distance of five or six miles, in our wet
clothes, the rain and sleet pelting us all the way, we ar-
rived at the tavern pretty well changed in our feelings with
regard to the anticipated pleasures of Chesapeake Duck-
shooting, and determined to start for home in the morning,
after buying all the game the tavern-keeper had, together
with that which we purchased before, and the little
we had got secundurn arteni, being put into a large
box, and taking special care that it should be stripped in
such manner that the game should be fully exposed, we

120

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

left this place, where we were well satisfied we had been
charged at a good price for other matters besides ducks.
But all these vexatious circumstances, Mr. Editors, were
counterbalanced by the gratification we experienced where-
over our box was seen, by some such remarks as these:
"Why, gentlemen, you have had grand luck!" — "Are
these your birds? Wild geese too!" — and some ganders
would ask us if these were not

SWAN.

VERNAL NATURE.

" The lime of the singing of birds is come."

There's a voice from the woods! — The winter had set
His seal of ice where the flow'rets met,
And long had he held his chilly reign,
With storm and sleet, o'er the frozen plain.
And his purest garlands of snow were hung
On the ancient oak and the sapling young,
And the sigh of the bleak and northern breeze,
Was all that was heard from the leafless trees.

The streams that had murmur'd thro' summer's sway,

Then silently crept on their gloomy way,

For their voices were chok'd by the tyrannous force

Which Winter had set on their rippling course ;

The shrill cicada that woke the night,

Had shrunk away from the season's blight.

For the hoary monarch had utter'd lis will,

And the sounds from the forest were hush'd and still.

But now there's a voice from the woods again! —

It is not the language nor voice of men;

It comes with a murmur soft and low,

A sound that Nature is glad to know,

Because it tells that the winter is past.

That there's nought to fear from his raving blast,

That the sceptre has dropp'd from his palsied hand,

And Spring has come back to refresh the land.

There's a voice from the woods! — 'Tis the rushing

streams,
That melt in the sun's reviving beams;
From their mountain holds in their joy they foam,
And leap, like the kids that around them roam;
Away, from rock to rock, they go.
Tossing their waters to and fro,

As if they were things of life, to be
Awake to the feelings of liberty.

There's a voice from the woods! — 'Tis the voice of flower

That breathe perfume from their forest bowers.

As, peeping forth from their close retreat.

They open their leaves the spring to greet.

And when the earth is array'd in green.

With their light blue petals are modestly seen;

Or drest in their beautiful robes of red,

Along its surface their odours shed.

There's a voice from the woods! — 'Tis the warbler's son|

That comes in melody, sweet and strong,

From the depth of the gi'ove, on the balmy air,

The first assurance that Spring is there;

The wild deer arches his neck to hear,

And drinks in the sound with a joyous ear.

For it tells him that Nature again is awake.

And he hurries to seek her, by mountain and lake.

0 there's joy in the wood where the blue-bird has sung.
For it tells, tho' the shoots and the flowers are young,
That the forest again will be cover'd with leaves —
That the field will again have its burthen of sheaves —
That the bounties and blessings that come in its train.
Will return with the season of dew-drops and rain;
0 well may the poet thy eulogy sing,
And hail thy wild melody, herald of Spring!

C. W. T.

MYSTERIOUS SOUNDS.

The wide spread sail of a ship, rendered concave by a
gentle breeze, is a good collector of sound. " It hap-
pened," says Dr. Arnott, "once, on board a ship sailing
along the coast of Brazil, far out of sight of land, that the
persons walking on deck, when passing a particular spot,
always heard very distinctly the sound of bells, varying as
in human rejoicings. All on board came to listen, and were
convinced; but the phenomenon was most mj'sterious.
INIonths afterwards, it was ascertained that, at the time of
observation, the bells of the city of St. Salvador, on the
Brazilian coast, had been ringing on the occasion of a festi-
val; their sound, therefore, favoured by a gentle wind, had
travelled, perhaps, one hundred miles by smooth water,
and had been brought to a focus by the sail on the particu-
lar situation, or deep, where it was listened to. It appears,
from this, that a machine might be constructed, having the
same relation to sound that a telescope has to sight."

Edin. Phil. Jour.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

GRISLY BEAR.
UHSUS HORRIBILIS..

[Plate XL]

Grisly Bear. Mackenzie, voyages Si-c. 160. — Gj-isly,
brown, white and variegated Bear. Lewis & Clark.
— Grizzly Bear. Warden's United States. Godman
Nat. Hist. i. p. 131. — Ursus Horribilis. Ord. Say.
Expedit. to the Rocky Mountains, ii. p. 52. — Ursus
Cinereus. Desm. Mammal. — Ursus Ferox. Lewis &
Clark. Richardson. Faun. An. bor. 24. — Ursus
Candescens. Hamilton Smith. Griffith's and King.
ii. p. 229. & 5. No. 320.— Pe ale's Museum.

The Grisly Bear belongs to a division of the carnivora,
which, although far less sanguinary than the other groups
of his formidable order, and endowed with a faculty of
wholly subsisting on vegetable food, nevertheless contains
some of the largest and most powerful of the destructive
mammalia. This division, which comprehends several
very closely allied genera, is termed Plantigrade, the indi-
viduals comprising it treading on the whole sole of the foot,
thus enabling them to raise and maintain themselves on
their hinder legs with great facility. They have five toes
on each foot, and are generally sluggish in their gait.

The genus LTrsus, or the Bears, is characterised by their
complete plantigrade walk, from their claws, which are five
in number, incurved, large, and powerful, from the short-
ness of their tail, and from the peculiarities of their dental
system. They are extremely powerful, but clumsj^, slug-
gish, and uncouth, generally feed on vegetable substances
being in fact but semi-carnivorous. They will, how-
ever, sometimes destroy the smaller animals, and, in case
of necessity, will subsist on fish. They are also very fond
of honey, and notwithstanding the clumsiness of their con-
formation, exhibit no slight degree of agility in mounting
trees in search of it. They never attack man except in
self-defence, or under the influence of severe hunger ; and it
is reported, that in the latter state they will associate toge-
ther in search of animal food. Both sexes retire in the win-
ter, and the period of parturition with the female is in the
spring, after a gestation of seven months, when she produces
from one to five at a birth.

Great confusion has existed in the determination and clas-
sification of the difi-erent species ; all the discussions that have
been entered mto, in the hopes of elucidating this question,
have ended in an acknowledgment of the difficulty of the
undertaking. This is particularly the case with the Bears
with brown fur, approaching more or less to black on the
H h

one side, and on the other to the lighter tints. Thus Cu-
vier, in his last edition, says, that he is by no means convin-
ced that any specific difference exists between the subject
of our present illustration, and the Brown Bear of Europe.

The only mode in which questions of this nature can be
satisfactorily settled, is accurately to describe and represent
such specimens as occur in diflerent countries, so that in
time an approximation and comparison of them, in all the
details of their organization, can be properly made.

The Grisly Bear is indubitably the most formidable and
powerful of all the quadrupeds which inhabit the northern
regions of the American continent ; and it is not to be won-
dered at, that a victory over an animal of such strength and
ferocity, should be considered of such importance among the
native tribes inhabiting the inhospitable regions where it is
now found.

Mr. Say, who was the first naturalist that describes this
species, gives the following account of it: ''Hair long, short
on the front, very short between and anterior to the e.ves,
blacker and coarser on the legs and feet, longer on "the
shoulders, throat, behind the thighs, and beneath the belly,
paler on the snout; ears short, rounded ;//-o;i^ arcuated, the
line of the profile continued upon the snout, without any in-
dentation between the eyes ; eyes very small, destitute of
any remarkable supplemental lid ; iris of a burnt sienna or
light reddish brown colour, mufile of the nostrils black, the
sinus very distinct and profound ; %?, particularly the
superior, anteriorly extensive, with a few rigid hairs or
bristles, tail very short, concealed by the hair. The hair
gradually diminishes in length upon the leg, but the upper
part oi the foot is more amply furnished. Teeth, incisors
six, the lateral one with a tubercle on the exterior side,
canines large, robust, prominent, a single false molar be-
hind the canine, remaining molars four, of which the
anterior one is very small, that of the upper particularly,
that of the lower jaw resembling the second false molar of
the dog.

",/lnteriorfeet, claws elongated, slender fingers with five
sub-oval naked tubercles, separated from the palm, from
each other, and from the base of the claws by dense hair,
palm on its anterior half naked, transversely oval, base of
the palm with a rounded naked tubercle, surrounded by
hair. Posterior feet with the sole naked, the nails mode-
rate, more arcuated and shorter than those of the anterior.
The nails do not diminish in the least in width at tip, but
they become smaller towards that part, by diminishing from
beneath. The Grisly Bears vary exceedingly in colour,
and pass through the intermediate gradations, from a dark
brown to a pale fulvous or greyish."*

* ExpeJilinn to llie Rocky Moumaiiis. \o\. II, p. bt.

122

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

The accounts of the dimensions of these animals difier ;
they are reported to attain a weight exceeding 800 pounds,
and Lewis and Clark mention one that measured nine feet
in length, and add, that they had seen a still larger one, but
do not give its dimensions. Governor Clinton received in-
telligence of one said to be fourteen feet long, but even ad-
mitting that there was no exaggeration in this statement, it
is probable that the admeasurements were taken from a skin
which had been stretched. The dimensions given by Mr.
Say, which were taken from the two prepared specimens in
the Philadelphia Museum, by no means give an idea of the
size to which this animal attains, as these individuals died
before they had reached their full growth ; these measure-
ments are however valuable as presenting a correct view
of the proportions of different parts of the body.

From the account of Mr. Say, it appears that the Grisly
Bear differs from the other species of the genus, by the
elongation of its anterior claws, and the rectilinear or slight-
ly arcuated form of its facial profile. Its nearest approach
is to the Norwegian variety of the Alpine Bear, ( U. Jirc-
tos,) from which however it differs in the particulars just
stated, and by its shorter and more conical ears. The
soles of its feet are longer and its heel broader than those
of the Brown Bear of Europe. The shortness of its tail
is also another remarkable characteristic. Dr. Richardson
says it is a standing joke among the Indian-hunters, when
they have killed a Grisly Bear, to desire any one unac-
quainted with the animal, to take hold of its tail.

The size of the feet and claws of this Bear, is a very
striking peculiarity of the species ; of this some idea may be
formed from the measurements given by Lewis and Clark.
These gentlemen inform us, that the breadth of the fore foot,
in one of the individuals observed by them, exceeded nine
inches, whilst the length of the hind foot, exclusive of the
claws, was eleven inches and three quarters, and its breadth
seven inches. The claws of the fore feet of another speci-
men measured more than six inches. The latter, as we
have said, are considerably longer, and less curved than those
of the hind feet, and do not narrow in a lateral direction as
they approach their extremit}', but diminish only from be-
neath, the point is consequently formed by the shelving of
the inferior surface alone, their breadth remaining the same
throughout the whole of their enormous length, and their
power being proportionally increased ; an admirable pro-
vision for enabling the animal to exercise to the fullust ex-
tent his propensity for digging up the ground, either in
search of food, or for other purposes. It appears, however,
on the other hand, to unfit him for climbing trees, which he
never attempts. — These claws are worn by the Indians as
necklaces, and the fortunate individual who procures them
by tlae destruction of the animal is highly honoured.

Of the strength of this Bear, some estimation may be
formed, from its having been known to drag the carcass of
a Buffiilo, weighing at least a thousand pounds, to a con-
siderable distance. Dr. Richardson gives the following
story which he says is well authenticated. "A party of
voyagers, who had been employed all day in tracking a
canoe up the Saskatchewan, had seated themselves in the
the twilight by a fire, and were busy in preparing their
supper, when a large Grisly Bear sprung over their canoe
that was tilted behind them, and seizing one of the party by
the shoulder carried him off. The rest all fled in terror
with the exception of a Metif, named Bourasso, who grasp-
ing 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, without hesitation,
as the Bear, 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 Bou-
rasso. He escaped with diiBculty, and the Bear ultimately
retreated to a thicket, where it was supposed to have died,
but the curiosity of the party not being a match for their
fears, the fact of its decease was not ascertained. The man
who was rescued had his arm fractured, and was otherwise
severely bitten by the Bear, but finally recovered."*

The blow they can inflict with their fore paws is very se-
vere, and from the size of the claws is often productive of
serious consequences. The writer we have just quoted also
mentions, that he was informed that there was a man living
in the neighborhood of one of the British trading posts,
who was attacked by a Grisly Bear, which sprung out of a
thicket, and with one stroke of its paw, completely scalped
him, laying bare the scull, and bringing the skin of the
forehead down over the eyes. Assistance coming up, the
Bear made off without doing him further injury, but the
scalp not being replaced, the poor man lost his sight; al-
though he thinks that his eyes are uninjured. Another in-
stance of the same kind is given in Long's Expedition, of a
hunter having received a blow from the fore paw of one of
these animals, which destroyed his eye and crushed his
cheek bone.

The Grisly Bear is carnivorous, and, where excited by
hunger, will indiscriminately slaughter every creature that
cannot elude his pursuit, but he also will occasionally feed
on vegetables, and is observed to be particularly fond of the
roots of some species of Psoralea and Hedysarum. They
also eat the fruits of various shrubs, as the bird cherry, the
choke cherry, and the Hippophae canadensis, which latter
produces a powerful cathartic effect on them.

The young and gravid females hibernate, but the old

*Ricliardson. Faun. Am. Bor. 27.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

123

males are found abroad at all seasons in quest of food.
Mackenzie speaks of a den of these animals which was ten
feet wide, five feet high, and six feet long. As this Bear
roams over the snow, its foot marks are frequently seen in
the spring, and when there is a crust upon the snow, the
weight of the animal often causes it to crack and sink for a
considerable distance round the spot trod upon. These im-
pressions, somewhat obscured by a partial thaw, have been
considered as the vestiges of an enormously large and un-
known quadruped, and perhaps have given rise to the re-
ports of there being live Mammoths on the Rocky moun-
tains.

The Grisly Bear is now found in the range of the Rocky
Mountains, and the plains lying to the eastward of them, as
far as latitude 61°, and perhaps even farther north. Accord-
ing to Pike, it occurs as far south as Mexico. Lewis and
Clark could not ascertain whether it inhabited the country
between the western declivity of the Rocky Mountains and
the sea coast. Dr. Richardson, on the authority of Mr.
Drummond, says, they are most numerous in the woody
district skirting the eastern base of the Rocky Mountains,
especially where there are open prairies and grassy hills.
From the traditions existing among the Delaware Indians
respecting the big naked Bear, the last of which they be-
lieve dwelt to the east of the Hudson river, there is some
ground for a belief that this animal once inhabited the At-
lantic States.

The Grisly Bear appears to be very tenacious of life.
Mr. Say infoi'ms us, one lived two hours, after having
been shot through the lungs, and whilst in this state, pre-
pared a bed for himself in the earth, two feet deep, and five
feet long, having previously run a mile and a half. It is,
in fact, very difficult to kill one of these animals by a single
shot, except the ball penetrates the brain or the heart, and
this seldom is effected from the form of the skull in the first
case, and the thick coat of hair in the latter. To give a
better idea of the danger attendant on the chase of these
bears, we select the following instance from Lewis and
Clark:

One evening the men in the hindmost of one of Lewis
and Clark's canoes perceived one of those Bears lying in
the open ground about three hundred paces from Ihe 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 con-
cealing 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
hunter; at last he pursued them so closely that they threw
aside their guns and pouches, and jumped down a perpendi-
cular 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 shore, shot him through the
head, and finally killed him. On examination, it was found
that eight balls had passed through his body in different di-
rections.

Another instance is recorded by these travellers of the
same character. An individual received five balls through
his lungs, and five other wounds; notwithstanding which he
swam more than half across a river to a sand bar, and sur-
vived upwards of twenty minutes.

From these and analogous facts, it is not to be wondered
at that even white hunters should be willing to avoid an en-
counter with so formidable an adversary, and that the In-
dians, mostly unprovided with fire-arms, should never attack
him, except in parties of six or eight, for having no wea-
pons but bows and arrows, or the bad guns with which the
traders supply them, they are obliged to approach very near
the Bear, and as no wounds, except as we have stated,
through the head or heart, are fatal, they frequently fall a
sacrifice if they miss their aim.

<' It appears, however, that the Bear will not attack man
unless enraged or pressed by hunger. Mr. Drummond, the
botanist, in his excursions over the Rocky mountains, had
frequent opportunities ofobserving the manners of the Grisly
Bears; and it often happened, that in turning the point of a
rock or sharp angle of a valle)^, he came suddenly on one
or more of them. On such occasions they reared on their
hind legs, and made a loud noise like a person breathing
quick, but much harsher. He kept his ground, without at-
tempting to molest them, and they on their part, after atten-
tively regarding him for some time, gradually wheeled
round and gallopped off, though there is little doubt but that
he would have been torn to pieces had he lost his presence
of mind and attempted to fly. When he discovered them
from a distance, he usually frightened them by beating on
a large tin box, in which he carried his specimens of plants.
He never saw more than four together, and two of these
he supposes to have been cubs. He was only once attacked
and then by a female, for the purpose of allowing her
cubs time to escape. His gun on this occasion missed fire,
but he kept her at bay with the stock of it, until some gen-

124

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tleman of the Hudson's Bay Company, with whom he was
travelling, came up, and drove her off. In the latter end
of June, 1826, he observed a male caressing a female, and
soon afterwards, they both came towards him, but whether
accidentally, or for the purpose of attacking him, he was
uncertain. He ascended a tree, and as the female drew near,
fired at and mortally wounded her. She uttered a few loud
screams, which threw the male into a violent rage, and he
reared up against the trunk of the tree in which Mr. Drum-
mond was seated, but never attempted to ascend it."* This
mode of escaping by ascending trees is frequently practised
by hunters when pursued. Two instances are related by
Lewis and Clark, and many others are to be found in the
various authors who treat of this animal, where a hunter
has been held a close prisoner for many hours, by the
infuriated animal keeping watch at the foot of the tree.

Notwithstanding the ferocity of the Grisly Bear, it would
seem, that he is capable of a certain degree of domestication,
especially when young. Governor Clinton says "that
Dixon, an Indian trader, told a friend of his, that this ani-
mal had been seen fourteen feet long; that notwithstandingits
ferocity it had been occasionally domesticated, and that an
Indian, belonging to a tribe on the head waters of the Mis-
sissippi, had one in a reclaimed state, which he sportively
directed to go into a canoe belonging to another tribe of In-
dians, then returning from a visit ; the Bear obeyed, and
was struck by an Indian ; being considered as one of the
famil)', this was deemed an insult, resented accordingly,
and produced a war between these nations. t

It is also stated in Long's Expedition that a half-grown in-
dividual was kept chained in the yard of the Missouri Fur
Company, near Engineer Cantonment, and chiefly fed on
vegetable substances; as it was observed, that he became
furious when too plentifully supplied with an animal diet.
He was in continual motion during the greater part of the
day, pacing backwards and forwards to the extent of his
chain. His attendants ventured to play with him, though
in a reserved manner, fearful of trusting him too far, or of
placing themselves absolutely within his grasp ; he several
times broke loose from his chain, on which occasions he
would manifest the utmost joy, running about the yard in
every direction, rearing upon his hind feet, and capering
about. "I was present on one of these occasions," ob-
serves Mr. Say, " the squaws and children belonging to the
establishment, ran precipitately to their huts and closed the
doors; he appeared much delighted with his temporary
freedom, and ran to the dogs which were straying about
the yard, but they avoided him. In his round he came to
me, and rearing up, placed his paws upon my breast ; wish-

ing to rid myself of so rough a playfellow, I turned him
around, upon which he ran down the bank of the river,
plunged into the water, and swam about for some time."*

]\Iost of our Philadelphia readers must remember the
two young bears of this species which formerly were kept in
the Menagerie of Peale's Museum. These individuals were
procured by Pike, when on his expedition, about 1600
miles from the nearest American post, and kept with the in-
tention of presenting them to Mr. Jefferson, then president
of the United States. When Pike first obtained them, they
were carried for three or four days in the laps of his men on
horseback, and afterwards in cage on a mule, but were al-
ways let out, wherever the party halted. By this treat-
ment, they became extremely docile when at liberty, fol-
lowing the men like dogs. When well supplied with food
they would play like young puppies with each other and
the soldiers ; but the instant they were shut up in their cage
they became cross and surly, and would worry each other
until they were so exliausted that they were incapable of
further exertion.

When ]Mr. Peale received them, they were about a year
old, and tolerably docile, but soon gave indications of the
natural ferocity of their species. "As thej' increased in
size they became exceedingly dangerous, seizing and tear-
ing to pieces every animal they could lay hold of, and ex-
pressing extreme eagerness to get at those accidentally
brought within sight of their cage, by grasping the iron bars
with their paws and shaking them violently, to the great
terror of spectators, who felt insecure while witnessing such
displays of their strength. In one instance an unfortunate
monkey was walking over the top of their cage, when the
end of the chain which hung from his waist dropped through
within reach of the Bears ; they immediately seized it,
dragged the screaming animal through the narrow aper-
ture, tore him limb from limb, and devoured his mangled
carcass almost instantaneously. At another time a small
monkey thrust his arm through an opening in the cage to
reach some object ; one of them immediately seized him,
and with a sudden jerk, tore the whole arm and shoulder-
blade from the body, and devoured it before any one could
interfere. They were still cubs, and very little more than
half grown, when their ferocity became so alarming as to
excite continual apprehension lest they should escape, and
they were killed in order to prevent such an event, "t
Their skins were ably prepared, and now form part of the
interesting collection in the Philadelphia Museum.

There is also a full grown specimen in the Tower of Lon-
don, which was presented to George the III. about seven-
teen years since, by the Hudson's Bay Company. This

* l.onj^'s ExpeHiiion lo Ihe Rockv fllountains, vol. 2 p. 55.
t Godman's .Nai. llisl. Vol. 1. p. 133,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

size is far superior to any Bear that has ever been seen in
Europe, and his ferocity in spite of the length of time dur-
ing which he has been a prisoner, and the attempts that
have been made to conciliate him, still continues undimi-
nished. He does not offer the slightest encouragement to
familiarity on the part of his keepers, but treats them with
as much distance as the most perfect strangers ; and although
he will sometimes appear playful and good tempered, yet
they know him too well to trust themselves within his
grasp.*

The Grisly Bear has long been known to the Indian
traders as differing from the Black Bear in the inferiority of
its fur, its greater strength and carnivorous habits. Every
traveller through the region it frequents has also men-
tioned it, thus the early French writers call it Ours-blanc.
But Lewis and Clark were the first who described in so ac-
curate a manner as to enable naturalists to ascertain that it
was a distinct species ; this was pointed out by Dewitt Clin-
ton from the description of these gentlemen in 1815. Mr.
Ord, also, from the same materials, described it under the
name of horribilis in the introduction to INIorse's geography

in , this name having been adopted by Mr. Say, who

was, as we have stated, the first naturalist that accurately
described it from the actual inspection, we have followed
him in assuming Mr. Ord's designation of it. Since this it
has received the various specific names given in the list of
synonomy at the commencement of this article. The Eng-
lish name of Grisly has also been adopted as having been
bestowed on it by Mackenzie as early as 1801, and as less
liable to objection than that of grizzly which is founded on
a colour that is common to other species. Those of our
readers who wish for further information respecting this
animal, will find ample details in Lewis and Clark's Tra-
vels, Long's Expedition, Godman's Natural History, and
Richardson's Fauna Americana Boreali, of which, as well as
of a short sketch in that admirable work, the Tower Mena-
gerie, we have freely availed ourselves in the foregoing
account.

THE GRIFFON VULTURE.

Vultur Fulvus. Briss.

There are few prejudices more deeply rooted in our
nature, than that which delights in investing the animal
creation with the feelings and the passions of mankind.
We speak of the generosity of the Lion and the meekness
of the Lamb, the magnanimity of the Eagle and the simpli-

Toiver Menage:

city of the Dove, as if the peculiar instincts manifested by
each of these animals were the result of an impulse similar
to that which actuates the human mind. But the truth is,
that the qualities thus designated, in so far as they actually
exist, are nothing more than the natural and necessary con-
sequences of the animals' organization, specially fitted in
each particular case for the performance of a special office,
and concurring in the mass to the maintenance of that due
equilibrium in the s_ystem of the universe on which its con-
tinued existence mainly depends.

The Vultures and the Eagles furnish a striking instance
of the extent to which this prejudice has been carried. The
latter, eminently qualified by their organization for seizing
and carrying off a living prey, serve a useful purpose of
nature by setting bounds to the multiplication of the smaller
species both of quadrupeds and birds, which might other-
wise become too numerous for the earth to support: while
the former, disqualified by certain modifications in their
structure for the performance of a similar task, are no less
usefully employed in removing the putrefying carrion
which but for them would infect the atmosphere with its
unwholesome exhalations. Thus both are of equal impor-
tance in the economy of nature; and both are stimulated to
the performance of the particular service for which they
were created, by the impulse of that instinct which is the
immediate result of their organic structure. Instead, how-
ever, of regarding them as alike the ministers of nature in
the maintenance of her laws, man has chosen to fix upon the
one a character for bravery and generosity, and to brand
the other with the epithets of base, cowardl}^, and obscene.
The Vultures, which are perhaps the most useful and cer-
tainly the most inoffensive, have thus been consigned to
perpetual infamy; while the Eagles, in the true cant of that
military romance which has ever borne so great a sway
over the passions of mankind, have been exalted, in com-
mon with the warrior that desolates the world, into objects
of admiration, and selected as the types and emblems of
martial glory.

From these fanciful associations we turn to the realities of
nature, and proceed to indicate the characters by which the
family of Vultures are distinguished from all other Birds of
PreJ^ They consist in the entire or partial denudation of
the head and neck, the latter of which is much elongated;
the lateral position of the nostrils in a generally broad and
powerful bill, curved only at its point, and clothed at its
base by an extended cere; the nakedness of the tarsi, which
are covered only with small reticulated scales; and the strong
thick talons, somewhat blunted at the points, but little
curved, and scarcely, if at all, retractile. Of these charac-
ters the most obvious is the absence of feathers to a greater
or less extent on the head and neck, a mark of distinction

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

which, like all the rest, is closely connected with the habits
of the birds. Thus it has been pointed out that in other
groups a falHng off or thinning of the feathers is the fre-
quent result of feeding upon flesh especially when in a state
of decay. The bareness of these parts in the Vultures ena-
bles them morever to burrow in the putrid carcasses on which
they prey without risk of soiling their plumage.

Their largely extended nostrils and the great internal
developement of these organs would seem to be of manifest
use in guiding the Vultures to their prey, which they are
generally believed to scent from an immense distance. It
has, however, been lately maintained by a most acute obser-
ver of the habits of birds, Mr. Audubon, that thi.s belief,
which has been entertained from the earliest antiquity, is
founded in error, and that the Vultures are directed to their
prey by sight alone, the lofty pitch at which they fly and
the surpassing excellence of their vision enabling them to
detect it at an almost inconceivable distance. Several of
the experiments brought forward by that gentleman in sup-
port of his hypothesis, appear at first sight almost decisive
of the question; but we cannot consent to abandon the re-
ceived opinion, corroborated as it is to the fullest extent by
the anatomical structure of the organs of smell, until repeated
experiments shall have placed the fact beyond the possi-
bility of doubt.

It is almost unnecessary to point out the great utility of
the strong deep curved bill of most of the Vultures in tear-
ing to pieces the carcasses on which they feed, and consign-
ing them in large masses to their maws. The nakedness of
their legs may be regarded as dependent on the same causes
and serving the same purposes as that of their heads and
necks. But the character which has the strongest influence
on their economy must be sought for in the structure of their
claws. While the Falcons are enabled by means of their
strongly curved, sharp-pointed, and highly retractile talons,
to seize their victims with an irresistible grasp and to con-
vey them through the air, the Vultures are restricted by the
obtuseness of those organs, their want of the necessary cur-
vature, and the almost total absence of retractility, to the
use of their beaks alone in the seizure of their prey, which
they are quite incapable of transporting with them in their
flight, and are consequently compelled to devour upon the
spot. It is to this simple modification in structure that they
are chiefly indebted for that propensity for preying upon
carrion, which has obtained for them all the opprobrious
epithets that stigmatize them throughout the world.

The Vulture family, which formed but a single genus in
the Linnffian classification, has since been divided into seve-
ral groups, some of which appear to us to be still capable,
and deserving also, of further subdivision. We have already
spoken of the South American group, of which the Condor

furnishes the most conspicuous example; and we have now
to turn our attention to another section, almost equally typi-
cal in the family, the representatives of which are scattered
over the three divisions of the Old Continent. It is in this
section more particularly that we conceive a further separa-
tion of species both practicable and desirable. M. Savigny
has already effected it to a certain extent by the establish-
ment of two well marked genera for the reception of the two
European species; and Mr. Vigors has pointed out the pro-
priety of separating the Angola Vulture of Pennant from the
rest of the group. To these three strongly marked forms
we would add the bird which furnishes the subject of the
next following article as the type of a fourth, with which
we doubt not that the Pondicherry Vulture of Latham would
form a natural association. Of the remaining species we
will not venture to speak, not having yet enjoyed the oppor-
tunity of examining them in nature.

The essential characters of the entire section consist, in
addition to all the characteristic marks of the family, in the
almost total want of feathers on the head and neck; in the
position of the eyes on a level with the general surface of
the head; in the prominence of the crop, which is covered
by a naked and highly extensible portion of skin; in the
transverse position of the nostrils at the base of a strong beak
not surmounted by a fleshy caruncle; in the exposure of
their auditory openings, which have no elevated margin; in
the great strength of their legs; the comparative weakness
of their blunt and unretractile claws; and the shortness of
their first quill-feathcr, which is of equal length with the
sixth, the third and fourth being the longest of the series.
To these may be added the usually great elongation of their
necks; the fleshy consistence of their tongues; the prolonga-
tion of the middle toe, which is united to the outer by a
membranous expansion at the base, but quite distinct from
the inner, the latter being the shortest of the three and about
equal in length to the posterior or thumb; and the length of
the wings, which extend when closed beyond the extremity
of the tail. The wings are, however, rarely brought close
to the body, even when the bird is completely at rest; and
this circumstance, together with the somewhat crouching
posture in which the Vultures are compelled, by their defi-
ciency in the power of grasping, to sustain themselves, has
been frequently adverted to as affording a striking contrast
with the bold, upright, and collected bearing of the Eagles.

In subdividing the European Vultures, M. Savigny has
characterized that which forms the subject of the present
article by its naked transversely elongated and lunulate nos-
trils; its tongue fringed with sharp points; and its tail com-
posed of fourteen feathers. Its head and neck are covered
with a short, thick, white down, which is wanting only at
the lower part in front corresponding with the situation of

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

12r

the crop, where the naked skin has a bluish tinge. A broad
ruflf of pure white feathers surrounds the lower part of the
neck; and the rest of the plumage, in the adult bird, is of a
grayish brown, with the exception of the quill-feathers of
the wings and tail, which are of a dusky black. The under
parts are somewhat lighter than the upper; the bill is of a
livid colour with a tinge of blue; the iris of a bright orange;
and the legs and feet grayish brown, the feathers of the in-
side of their upper part being pure white. In the female
the colours appear to coincide exactly with those of the
male; but the young birds are at first of a bright fawn, which
is variegated, after the iirst and second changes of plumage,
with patches of gray, and changes to the perfectly adult hue
only after the close of the third year.

This noble species of Vulture, which is one of the largest
birds of prey of the Old Continent, measuring from three
feet and a half to four feet in length, and more than twice as
much in the expanse of its wings, is found on the lofty
mountain chains of Europe, Asia, and Africa. It is not un-
common during the summer in the Alps and Pyrenees, but
is said to retreat in winter to the north of Africa, extending
itself, according to Le Vaillant, to the Cape of Good Hope.
M. Risso, however, informs us that it is stationary on the
Alps in the vicinity of Nice. The Rock of Gibraltar, the
Mountains of Silesia and the Tyrol, Greece and Turkey,
are also spoken of as its European habitats: Egypt is indi-
cated by Savigny; the Mountains of Ghilan in the north of
Persia by Hablizl; and other localities still farther east are
given by other writers.

The nest of the Griffon Vulture is formed in the clefts of
rocks. It lays from two to four eggs, which are of a grayish
white, with numerous spots of a very light and diluted red.
Like all the other birds of its tribe it feeds principally upon
dead carcasses, to which it is frequently attracted in very
considerable numbers. When it has once made a lodgment
upon its prey, it rarely quits the banquet while a morsel of
flesh remains, so that it is not uncommon to see it perched
upon a putrefying corpse for several successive days. It
never attempts to carry off a portion, even to satisfy its
young, but feeds them by disgorging the half-digested mor-
sel from its maw. Sometimes, but very rarely, it makes
its prey of living victims; and even then of such only as
are incapable of offering the smallest resistance; for in a
contest for superiority it has not that advantage which is
possessed by the Falcon tribes, of lacerating its enemy with
its talons, and must therefore rely upon the force of its beak
alone. It is onl}', however, when no other mode of satiat-
ing its appetite presents itself, that it has recourse to the
destruction of other animals for its subsistence.

After feeding it is seen fixed for hours in one unvaried
posture, patiently waiting until the work of digestion is

completed and the stimulus of hunger is renewed, to enable
and to urge it to mount again into the upper regions of the
air and fly abroad in quest of its necessary food. If violently
disturbed after a full meal, it is incapable of flight until it
has disgorged the contents of its stomach, lightened of
which, and freed from their debilitating effects, it is imme-
diately in a condition to soar to such a pitch as, in spite of
its magnitude, to become invisible to human siaiht.

In captivity it appears to have no other desire than that of
obtaining its regular supply of food. So long as that is
afforded it, it manifests a perfect indifference to the circum-
stances in which it is placed. An individual has been for
three years an inhabitant of the Garden, and was for many
years previous in the possession of Joshua Brookes, Esq., by
whom it was presented to the Society. — Tower Menagerie.

THE CHINCHILLA.

Chinchilla Lanisrera.

The peculiar softness and beauty of the fur of the Chin-
chilla have been so long, so ornamentally, and so comfort-
ably known to our fair countrywomen, that it would be
paying their taste and curiosity a sorry compliment to ima-
gine that they have no desire to become acquainted with the
animal by which it is furnished. We are happy therefore to
to have it in our power to gratify them, as well as the sci-
entific zoologist, by a figure and description of so inter-
esting a creature, the former the only one that has yet been
given to the world, and the latter the first that has appeared
in our language.

Notwithstanding the extensive trade carried on in its
skins, the Chinchilla might have been regarded until the
last year almost as an unknown animal: for no modern
naturalist, with the exception of the Abbe Molina, a native
of Chili, who has written expressly on the Natural History
of that country, had seen an entire specimen, living or dead;
and the description given in his work added little of truth
and much of error to the information that was to be derived
from an inspection of the skins themselves in the imperfect
state in which they are sent into the market. Still his ac-
count contains many particulars relative to the habits of the
animal, which are not to be met with elsewhere, and we
shall therefore extract it entire; first, however, referring to
such scanty notices in the works of former writers as appear
to have been founded on original observation.

The earliest account of the Chinchilla with which we
have met is contained in Father Joseph Acosta's Natural
and Moral History of the East and West Indies, published

128

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

at Barcelona, in Spanish, in the year 1591. From an Eng-
lish translation of this work,printed at London, in 1604, we
extract the following sentence, which is all that relates to
the animal in question. <'The Chinchilles is an other kind
of small beasts, like squirrels, they have a woonderfiill
smoothe and soft skinne, which they weare as a healthfuU
thing to comfort the stomacke, and those parts that have
needeof a moderate heate;" [as most "beasts" do; but the
concluding part of the extract shows that this is spoken of
the human natives, and not of the poor Chinchillas them-
selves;] "they make coverings and rugges of the haire of
these Chinchilles, which are found on the Sierre of Peru."
We find these animals again mentioned, and nearly to the
same purpose, in "The Observations of Sir Richard Haw-
kins, Knight, in his Voyage into the South Sea, An. Dom.
1593," published at London, in a small folio, in the year
1622, and reprinted, three years afterwards, in the fourth
part of "Purchas his Pilgrims." This hardy and adven-
turous seaman appears, notwithstanding the somewhat con-
temptuous manner in which he speaks of the "princes and
nobles" that "laie waite" for these skins, to have been
much of the same opinion with regard to their superior
quality and comfort. It is worthy of remark that he treats
them not as wool, in which light Acosta seems to have re-
garded them, but as fur. "Amongst others," he says,
(showing, by the by, as little respect for the niceties of
grammar as the translator above quoted,) "they have little
beastes, like unto a squirrel!, but that hee is grey, his skinne
is the most delicate soft and curious furre that I have seene,
and of much estimation, (as is reason,) in the Peru; few of
them come into Spaine, because difficult to be come by, for
that the princes and nobles laie waite for them, they call
this beast Chinchilla, and of them they have great abun-
dance."

In the foregoing quotations the Chinchilla is only said to
be like a Squirrel: later writers appear to have confounded
them. Thus when Alonso de Ovalle, another Spaniard,
whose "Historical Relation of the Kingdom of Chili" was
published at Rome in 1646, says that "the Squirrels
[Ardas] which are found only in the Valley of Guasco, are
ash-coloured, and their skins are in great esteem for the
fineness and softness of the fur," he evidently means the
Chinchilla; for no species of Squirrel, whose fur is of any
value, is found in that country. The same may also be said
of an anonymous Italian author, (considered by some biblio-
graphers, but we believe erroneously, to have been the
Abbe Vidaure,) who published at Bologna in 1776, a Com-
pendium of the Geographical, Natural, and Civil History
of the Kingdom of Chili. This writer speaks of the Arda,
which is the Spanish word for a Squirrel, as a species of
Rat or Campagnol, of the size of a Cat, found only in the

province of Copiapo, moderately docile, and covered with
ash-coloured wool, as close and delicate as the finest cotton.
But this confusion of species becomes tolerable if com-
pared with another into which the same author has fallen
when he speaks of the Chinche, the most insupportably
offensive of all stinking animals, as having a remarkably
soft fur, which is made into coverlets for beds. The
responsibility, however, for the latter error must rest with
Bufifon; who, after quoting Feuillee's excellent description
of that abominable beast, adds: "it appears to me that the
same animal is indicated by Acosta under the name of
Chinchilla, which is not very different from that of Chin-
che." How this great naturalist could have been led to
confound two animals so essentially distinct in every parti-
cular, of one of which he had a specimen in good preserva-
tion, while the skins of the other, mutilated it is true, but
still distinctly recognisable, might probably have been seen
in the warehouse of every furrier, we are at a loss to con-
jecture. The circumstance itself affords a striking proof of
the obscurity in which the history of the Chinchilla was
then involved, when the mere similarity of sound in the
names was the solitary argument advanced in favour of so
unfortunate a conjecture. The error was corrected by
D'Azara, who is, however, himself mistaken in regarding
the Chinche of Feuillee and Buffon as his Yagouare, and
who adds nothing to what was already known with respect
to the true Chinchilla.

Molina's Essay on the Natural History of Chili was
originally published in Italian at Bologna in 1782. In the
preface the author candidly confesses that his materials are
not sufficiently complete for a general Natural History of
the countiy. They appear indeed to have consisted partly
of the recollections of a vigorous mind, and partly of such
imperfect notes as could only be made use of in the way of
hints to recall to the memory some of those minor points
which might otherwise have escaped it. It is obvious that
under such circumstances, however careful the writer may
have been to avoid mistakes, it is impossible to place in his
descriptions that implicit confidence to which his acknow-
ledged good faith would otherwise entitle him. In this
work he describes the Chinchilla as a species of the Linnasan
genus Mus, under the name of Mus laniger, by which ap-
pellation it was received into Gmelin's Edition of the
Systema Naturae, and continued to be known among natu-
ralists, until M. Geoffroy-Saint-Hilaire suggested that it
ought rather to be regarded as a species of the genus separated
by him from the Rats under the name of Hamster. This
opinion was immediately adopted by zoologists, and seems
to have been taken up by Molina himself, in a second
edition of his Essay, published in ISIO, which contains
some trifling additions to his former article on the Chin-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

129

chilla. "We proceed to translate from the latter those pas-
sages which relate to the subject.

"The Chinchilla," he says, "is another species of field-
rat, in great estimation for the extreme fineness of its wool,
if a rich fur as delicate as the silken webs of the garden
spiders may be so termed. It is of an ash-grey, and suffi-
ciently long for spinning. The little animal which produces
it is six inches long from the nose to the root of the tail,
with small pointed ears, a short muzzle, teeth like the
house-rat, and a tail of moderate length, clothed with a deli-
cate fur. It lives in burrows underground in the open
country of the northern provinces of Chili, and is very
fond of being in company with others of its species. It
feeds upon the roots of various bulbous plants which grow
abundantly in those parts; and produces twice a year five
or six young ones. It is so docile and mild in temper that
if taken into the hands it neither bites nor tries to escape;
but seems to take a pleasure in being caressed. If placed
in the bosom it remains there as still and quiet as if it were
in its own nest. This extraordinary placidity may possibly
be rather due to its pusillanimity, which renders it extremely
timid. As it is in itself peculiarly cleanly, there can be no
fear of its soiling the clothes of those who handle it, or of
its communicating any bad smell to them, for it is entirely
free from that ill odour which characterizes the other species
of Rats. For this reason it might well be kept in the
houses with no annoyance and at a trifling expense, which
would be abundantly repaid by the profits on its wool.
The ancient Peruvians, who were far more industrious than
the modern, made of this wool coverlets for beds and valua-
ble stuffs. There is found," he adds, "in the same north-
ern provinces, another little animal with fine wool called the
Hardilla, which is variously described by those who have
seen it; but as I have never observed it m3'Self, I cannot
determine to what genus it belongs." There can be little
doubt, we should imagine, that this animal is identical with
the Chinchilla, the latter, as we have already seen, being
frequently spoken of by the name of Arda, the same with
Harda, of which Hardilla is only the diminutive.

We shall conclude our quotations of former notices with
the following extract from Sehmidtmeyer's " Travels into
Chile over the Andes," London, 4to., 1824; which fur-
nishes some particulars, apparently derived from the travel-
ler's own observation, that had not been touched upon by
previous writers. " The Chinchilla," he says, "is a woolly
field-mouse, which lives under ground, and chiefly feeds on
wild onions. Its fine fur is well known in Europe; that
which comes from Upper Peru is rougher and larger than
the Chinchilla of Chile, but not always so beautiful in its
colour. Great numbers of these animals are caught in the
neighbourhood of Coquimbo and Copiapo, generally by

boys with dogs, and sold to traders who bring them to
Santiago and Valparayso, from whence they are exported.
The Peruvian skins are either brought to Buenos Ayres
from the eastern parts of the Andes, or sent to Lima. The
extensive use of this fur has lately occasioned a very consi-
derable destruction of the animals."

Such is the history of our knowledge of this interesting
animal until the arrival of a living specimen which was
brought to England by the late expedition to the north-west
coast of America, under the command of Captain Bcechey,
and by him presented to the Zoological Society. An entire
.skin, rendered particularly valuable in consequence of its
having the skull preserved in it, was at the same time
brought home by Mr. Collie, the surgeon of Captain
Beechey's vessel, and deposited in the collection of the
British Museum. We have thus fortunately placed within
our reach the means of correcting many of the errors into
which former writers have fallen with regard to it, and of
giving a more complete description of it than has yet been
laid before the world.

To begin with its generic characters. The slightest in-
spection of its teeth was sufficient to prove that it could no
longer be associated with the groups in which it had been
previously placed; and a closer examination served only to
confirm the idea that it was equally distinct in character
from every other known genus of Rodentia. In proof of
the former part of this assertion we borrow from the Zoolo-
gical Journal Mr. Yarrell's description of these organs,
taken from the specimen before mentioned, with one indis-
pensable alteration, of which that gentleman has himself
since seen the necessity. He there describes the teeth as
consisting of two incisors in each jaw, and of four molars on
either side; the three anterior of the upper jaw formed of
two parallel bony portions with three alternating lines of
enamel, and the fourth having an additional portion of bone
and enamel, but smaller than the two principal ones. The
direction of the parallel laminse of these teeth is not at right
angles with the line of the maxillary bone, but inclining
obliquely from without backwards; and the molars of the
lower jaw are placed still more obliquely than those of the
upper.

But the examination on which this statement was found-
ed was made under circumstances of great disadvantage,
inasmuch as it is almost impossible to obtain a distinct view
of the teeth of any animal while the skull remains vvitliin
the skin, from which it was of course not allowable in the
present instance to remove it The necessity for the altera-
tion to which we have before alluded has been rendered
obvious only since the skin was transferred to the British
Museum, by the extraction from the lower jaw of the two
anterior molars of the right side, which are now shown

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

each to possess a smaller third lamina of bone, with its
corresponding enamel, placed in front of, and not project-
ing so far externally as, the two remaining portions of the
tooth. This third lamina is separated from that next to it
by a deep groove on the inner side, but on the outer there
is no indication of such a division ; the inner surface of each
of these teeth consequently offers two such grooves, while
the outer presents no more than one.

In the observations appended to his account of the teeth
Mr. Yarrell appears to consider the Chinchilla as nearly
allied to Mr. Brooke's new genus Lagostomus, of which a
figure and description are contained in the last published
part (the first of the sixteenth volume) of the Linnaean
Transactions; and the general resemblance of form, together
with the characters of the teeth as given in that notice, un-
questionably warrant at least a close approximation. But
we apprehend that the alteration above made in the descrip-
tion of the teeth of the Chinchilla, together with the dis-
crepancy in the number of the toes, which in our animal
are four on the hind feet, while in Lagostomus they are but
three, will be considered fully sufficient to establish a
generic difference between them. The close affinity sub-
sisting between these animals has been subsequently re-
cognised by M. Cuvier, from the very imperfect materials
in his possession, consisting only of mutilated skins of the
one and drawings and descriptions of the other. In the
new edition, just published, of his Regne Animal he re-
gards them both as decidedly forming part of the same
genus; but does not venture, until he shall have seen their
teeth, to determine their position in the series, which he
considers so uncertain as to render it doubtful whether
they approach most nearly to the Guinea-pigs, the Lagomys
or the Rats. In the removal of these doubts we are happy
to assist by furnishing the proof that, although generically
distinct, they both evidently belong to the same natural
tribe, and contribute, along with Lagomys and Pedetes, to
establish a connexion between the otherwise widely sepa-
rated families of the Hares and the Jerboas.

The length of the body in our specimen is about nine
inches, and that of the tail nearly five. Its proportions are
close-set, and its limbs comparatively short, the posterior
being considerably longer than the anterior. The fur is
long, thick, close, woolly, somewhat crisped and entangled
together, grayish or ash-coloured above, and paler beneath.
The form of the head resembles that of the Rabbit; the
eyes are full, large, and black; and the ears broad, naked,
rounded at the tips, and nearly as long as the head. The
moustaches are plentiful and very long, the longest being
twice the length of the head, some of them black, and others
white. Four short toes, with a distinct rudiment of a
thumb, terminate the anterior feet; and the posterior are

furnished with the same number, three of them long, the
middle more produced than the two lateral ones, and the
fourth, external to the others, very short and placed far be-
hind. On all these toes the claws are short, and nearly
hidden by tufts of bristly hairs. The tail is about half the
length of the body, of equal thickness throughout, and
covered with long bushy hairs; it is usually kept turned
up towards the back, but not reverted as in the Squirrels.

To the account of its habits given by Molina we can only
add that it usually sits upon its haunches, and is even able
to raise itself up and stand upon its hinder feet. It feeds in
a sitting posture, grasping its food and conveying it to its
mouth by means of its fore paws. In its temper it is gene-
rally mild and tractable, but it will not always suffer itself
to be handled without resistance, and sometimes bites the
hand which attempts to fondle it when not in a humour to
be played with.

Although a native of the alpine valleys of Chili, and
consequently subjected in its own country to the effects of a
low temperature of the atmosphere, against which its thick
coat affords an admirable protection; it was thought neces-
sary to keep it during the winter in a moderately warm
room, and a piece of flannel was even introduced into its
sleeping apartment for its greater comfort. But this indul-
gence was most pertinaciously rejected, and as often as the
flannel was replaced, so often was it dragged by the little
animal into the outer compartment of its cage, where it
amused itself with pulling it about, rolling it up and shaking
it with its feet and teeth. In other respects it exhibits but
little playfulness, and gives few signs of activity; seldom
disturbing its usual quietude by any sudden or extraordinary
gambols, but occasionally displaying strong symptoms of
alarm when startled by any unusual occurrence. It is, in
fact, a remarkably tranquil and peaceable animal unless
when its timidity gets the better of its gentleness.

A second individual of this interesting species has lately
been added to the collection by the kindness of Lady Knigh-
ton, in whose possession it had remained for twelve months
previously to her presenting it to the Society. This
specimen is larger in size and rougher in its fur than the
one above described ; its colour is also less uniformly gray,
deriving a somewhat mottled appearance from the numerous
small blackish spots which are scattered over the back and
sides. It is possible that this may be the Peruvian variety,
mentioned in the extract from Schmidtmeyer's Travels, as
furnishing a less delicate and valuable fur than the Chilian
animal. It is equally good tempered and mild in its dispo-
sition; and, probably in consequence of having been domi-
ciliated in a private house instead of having been exhibited
in a public collection, is much more tame and playful. In
its late abode it was frequently suffered to run about the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

room, when it would show oflf its agility by leaping to the
height of the table. Its food consisted principally of dry
herbage, such as hay and clover, on which it appears to
have thriven greatly. That of the Society's original speci-
men has hitherto been chiefly grain of various kinds, and
succulent roots.

When the new comer was first introduced into Bruton
Street, it was placed in the same cage with the other speci-
men; but the latter appeared by no means disposed to sub-
mit to the presence of the intruder. A ferocious kind of
scuffling fight immediately ensued between them, and the
latter would unquestionably have fallen a victim, had it not
been rescued from its impending fate. Since that time they
have inhabited separate cages, placed side by side; and
although the open wires would admit of some little familiarity
taking place between them, no advances have as yet been
made on either side. Such an isolated fact can, of course,
have little weight in opposition to the testimony of Molina
that the Chinchilla is fond of company. It is nevertheless a
remarkable circumstance, and deserves to be mentioned in
illustration of the habits of these animals.

NATIONAL MUSEUM AT PARIS.

Some Details respecting the Garden of Plants and the
National Museum at Paris. By Mrs. R. Lee, (late
Mrs. Bowdich.)

Sir, — I have much pleasure in obeying your request, and
sending you a few details concerning the Jardin du Roi in
Paris, of which I have been an inmate during the last
month.

1 was much concerned to find that the lions, panthers,
&c. with some of which I had long been acquainted, were
all dead; and it is said that the classical-looking building
they inhabited was unfavourable to their nature. Animals
of this kind require not only warmth and shelter, but
society; but in these dens a constant current of air rushes
through, and the animals are totally excluded from the
sight of each other. Still, however, there are some very
fine bears of different species; some hysennas, one of which
is very gentle, and holds his head close to the bars to be
caressed; and some wolves. Among the latter is one
whose hair is perfectly black, and shines like floss silk.
He was brought when very young (I could almost have
said a puppy), and presented to Baron Cuvier's daughter-in-
law, who finding him so tame, desired he might have a dog
for a companion, and be fed entirely on broth and cooked

meat. Her orders have been obeyed, and the animal retains
all his gentleness and docility; he never sees her but he
stretches his paws through the bars to be shaken, and when
she lets him loose he lies down before her, licks her feet,
and shows every mark of joy and affection. In a small
room, not open to public view, is a curious collection of
squirrels, rackoons, martens, ichneumons, and some dogs,
whose monstrous birth gives them a place there, in order to
aid the researches of M. Geoffrey St. Hilaire.

But the great attraction — the queen of the garden — is the
giraffe, to whom I paid frequent visits. She is the only
survivor of the three which left Africa much about the same
time, and inhabits the large round building in the centre of
the menagerie, called the Rotonde. Great care is taken to
shelter her from the cold, and in the winter she has a kind
of hood and cape, which reach the length of her neck, and
a body cloth, all made of woollen materials. She is only
suffered to walk in her little park when the sun shines upon
it, and if care and attention can compensate for the loss of
liberty, she ought to be the happiest of her kind. She
stands about 124 feet high, and her skin, with its light
brown spots, shines like satin; but I confess I was disap-
pointed with regard to her beauty. She looks best when
lying down, or standing perfectly upright, in which posture
she is very dignified; but the moment she moves she be-
comes awkward, in consequence of the disproportion of the
hinder parts of her body, and the immense length of her
neck, which, instead of being arched, forms an angle with
her shoulders. When she gallops, her hind feet advance
beyond those in front, and the peculiarity of gait caused by
moving the hind and fore feet on the same side, at the same
time, is very striking. She has great difficulty in reaching
the ground with her mouth, and was obliged to make two
efforts to separate her fore legs before she could reach a
cistern placed on the pavement. Her head is of remarka-
ble beauty, and the expression of her full black eyes is mild
and affectionate; her tongue is long, black and pointed.
She is extremely gentle, yet full of frolic and animation,
and when walking in the menagerie, her keeper is obliged to
hold her head to prevent her biting off the young branches
of the trees. Her great delight, however, is to eat rose
leaves, and she devours them with the greatest avidity.
The African cows, witli humps on their shoulders, who
supplied her with milk during her passage to Europe, areas
gentle as their nursling, and when feeding her they come
and softly push your elbows to have their share. Turning
from the giraffe one day, and proceeding a yard or two in
order to satisfy them, I suddenly felt something overshadow
me, and this was no less than the girafle, who, without
quitting her place, bent her head over mine, and helped
herself to the carrots in my hand. Her keeper, named Ati,

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

and from Darfiir, is a tali well-proportioned black, and at
his own request a little gallery has been erected for him in
tlie stable of his charge, where he sleeps and keeps all his
property. When in attendance he dresses in the turban,
vest, and full trowsers of his country, but when lie walks
into Paris he assumes the European costume, for in his
native garb all the children in the streets reco£;nise him, and
calling out, '■'■ Jiti '. Ati! comment va la giraffe?^'' hurt
his consequence. He is to be found every Sunday evening
at one of the Guinguettes in the neighbourhood, dancing
with all his might, and during the week he devotes his
leisure to the acquirement of reading and writing.

The two elephants are mucli grown, and with the Asiatic
they do not seem to make much progress; but the African is
become very interesting; she performs various salutations
and manoeuvres, obeys the voice of her keeper, kneels down
to take him on her back, and seldom requires any other
chastisement than a pull of one of her ears, which are very
much larger than those of her Indian brother.

Two very beautiful aviaries have been completed since
my last visit to the Jardin. The one is appropriated to
birds of prey, and contains some noble specimens of owls,
eagles, and vultures; among the latter is the great Condor
of the Andes (Vi'iltur Gryphus), which requires double the
space allotted to any of the others. The second aviary
contains many rare species of pheasants and other birds,
and both of them have not only covered places for shelter,
and stoves for heating them, but a large space covered with
iron network, in which the thousands who weekly crowd
to see them can watch their movements without the least
difficulty. Near these are the parks appropriated to pea-
cocks, domestic fowls, &c. and in which the crown and
Numidian cranes, and the secretary bird, stalk about and
dance at sunset, as if under their native skies. The various
kinds of deer, the chamois, and other goats, are in high
health; the beavers are thriving, as well as all the known
species of lama. I was astonished at the fury with which
these mild-looking animals fight; and on one occasion hav-
ing caused them to be separated, I was much amused at the
rage with which they pushed their noses through the rail-
ings, till they touched, though their attempts to bite were
fruitless.

Without actual study, it would be difficult to ascertain
the additions made of late years to the collection of compa-
rative anatomy. Several rooms have been added since my
first acquaintance with it, in 1819, and it is yearly receiving
new treasures from travellers, or the efflarts of Baron Cu-
vier, who may be said to have created this part of the
establishment. The upper portion, containing the prepa-
rations in spirits, &c. separated bones, skulls, teeth, and the
,skeletons of the smaller animals, seems to be crowded; and

the skeletons of the whales below, among the larger objects,
excited my astonishment, that the whole Parisian world
should have run mad after la bahine dcs Pays Bas, when
those of the Jardin du Roi are nearly as large, and much
more interesting, from the whalebone having been pre-
served, and from the correct manner in which the parts
have been put together.

The collection of stuffed animals, at the first coup d' ceil,
more completely conveys an idea of its immense riches than
any other portion of the establishment. To see thousands
of animals in their living attitudes, so happily prepared as
to appear in actual movement, and then to pause and find
all still and immoveable, gives an idea of enchantment
which it is difficult to shake off, till increasing admiration
at every step supersedes all other feelings, and till we finally
turn from it lost in wonder at the magnificence of creation,
and adore the mighty Hand which has formed these endless
varieties, and yet bound the whole together in one common
link. The division allotted to the stuffed deer, &c. has re-
ceived several curious additions of the antelope kind; and
there are two tufts of hair, said to belong to the tails of the
grunting cow of the East, which is such an object of cu-
riosity to naturalists, and which tufts are all that has yet
been brought to Europe to prove its existence. The
giraffes, camels, and oxen still stand together in this room,
and the enormous basking shark has been hoisted to the
ceiling. But we feel impatient to get to the birds, the ar-
rangement of which, from their size, is more complete than
can be admitted among the quadrupeds. The first cases
contain the diurnal birds of prey; where the gypactos of
the Alps seems in the act of pouncing on its victim, the
secretary bird appears to have walked in from the menage-
rie, and the falcon ready to soar from the wrist of the hunts-
man. The owls of all countries succeed these; and passing
by the splendid parrots, parroquets, toucans, &c. we stop
for a long time before the Passeres. In this order every
idea of exquisite form, grace, delicacy, brilliancy, and har-
mony of colouring seems verified. The lyretails (Masnura),
the parasol birds (Cephalopterus), the lovely birds of para-
dise, the sugar birds, the gems of humming-birds blazing in
the light, seem each to demand a whole day's admiration;
and then come tbe-^allinacesp, with the red-breasted
pigeon, looking as if an arrow had just pierced her heart;
the horned and argus pheasants, &c. The ostrich, the rose
colored flamingo, the sacred and the scarlet ibis; the kami-
chi, said to bleed his sick companions with the spur upon
his wing, all take their place among the Grallse: and next
to these are the Palmipedes, from the far-famed albatross,
the awkward-looking penguin, the frigate bird, the stupid
boobies, to the common duck.

The two end rooms are still full of bats, quadrupeds, and

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

monkeys. The centre of the rooms is filled with cases of
Mollusca of the rarest and most beautiful species, both fossil
and recent; the animals preserved in spirits occupy some of
the lower shelves; the rest are filled with corallines and
sponges; the cases above are lined with insects.

Descending the staircase, we pass through those mighty
ruins of former ages, the fossils, chiefly collected by Baron
Cuvier; after which come the rocks and minerals. The
reptiles, which cover the sides and ceilings of the next
apartment, have lately been much extended; and the for-
mer library having been appropriated to ichthyology, the
books have been moved to the rooms of a deceased professor,
and their place is now wholly occupied by fishes. Below
these are three entirely new rooms, formed by turning the
porter of the gate in the Rue du Jardin du Roi out of his
habitation, and converting that and some lecture rooms into
a gallery fur the heavier quadrupeds, such as elephants, hip-
popotami, Slc. uii the ground floor.

The galleries of botany are scarcely big enough to con-
tain the piles of dried plants brought home by the naturalists
of the expeditions of discovery; and the collection of woods
and dried seeds bids fair very soon to exceed the limits
assigned to it. The School of Botany, so beautifully ar-
ranged according to the natural system, is three times as
large as it was six years back. The wet summer has much
injured the parterres; still, however, the daturas have been
placed outside the green-houses; the salvias, amounting to
large shrubs, were still in blossom; and the flower-garden,
the garden of naturalization, and the medicinal parterres,
were all blooming. In short, with the exception of living
Carnivora, every department of this wonderful establish-
ment has made the most astonishing progress, even within
the last few years, and is now so perfect that we almost
wish the treasures of nature exhausted, for fear the least
alteration for the reception of additions should be detri-
mental to its beauty.

I cannot suppose it possible for an English amateur of
natural history to turn from this little world of science and
wonder without a sigh of regret — without dwelling on the
causes, whatever they may be, which keep his own country
in such deep arrears in this respect. That England, which
perfects not only her own undertakings, but the under-
takings of other nations, with a hundred fold the opportu-
nity in her commercial connections, which preclude even
the necessity of sending out travellers on purpose — that
England should be thus outdone by her less enterprising
neighbour, is a fact at which I cannot help grieving, but
which I do not presume to investigate. I am. Sir, &c.

S. Lee.
3" Burton Street, Nov. 19.

L I

R 0 B I X.

TURD US MIGR.iTORIUS.

[Plate XII.]

Linn. Syst. i, p. 292, 6. — Turdiis Canadensis, Briss.
II, p. 225, 9. — La Litorne de Canada, Burr, iii, p.
307.— Grive de Canada, PL Enl. 556, \.— Fieldfare
of Carolina, Cat. Car. 1, 29. — Red-breasted Thrush,
Arct. Zool. II, No. 196.— Lath. Syn.u,p. 26.— Bar-
tram, />. 290. — J. Doughty's collection.

This well known bird, being familiar to almost every
body, will require but a short description. It measures
nine inches and a half in length; the bill is strong, an inch
long, and of a full yellow, though sometimes black, or
dusky near the tip of the upper mandible; the head, back
Ol the neck, iiiul lull la blauk, the back and rump an ash
colour; the wings are black edged with light ash; the inner
tips of the two exterior tail feathers are white; three small
spots of white border the eye; the throat and upper part of
the breast is black, the former streaked with white; the
whole of the rest of the breast, down as far as the thighs, is
of a dark orange; belly and vent white, slightly waved
with dusky ash; legs dark brown; claws black and strong.
The colours of the female are more of the light ash, less
deepened with black; and the orange on the breast is much
paler and more broadly skirted with white. The name of
this bird bespeaks him a bird of passage, as are all the dif-
ferent species of Thrushes we have; but the one we are
now describing being more unsettled, and continually
roving about from one region to another, during fall and
winter, seems particularly entitled to the appellation.
Scarce a winter passes but innumerable thousands of them
are seen in the lower parts of the whole Atlantic States,
from New Hampshire to Carolina, particularly in the
neighbourhood of our towns; and from the circumstance of
their leaving, during that season, the country to the north-
west of the great range of the Alleghany, from Maryland
northward, it would appear that they not only migrate
from north to south, but from west to east, to avoid the
deep snows that generally prevail on these high regions for
at least four months in the year.

The Robin builds a large nest, often on an apple tree,
plasters it in the inside with mud, and lines it with hay or
fine grass. The female lays five eggs of a beautiful sea
green. Their principal food is berries, worms and catter-
pillars. Of the first he prefers those of the sour gum
[Nyssa sylvatica). So fond are they of Gum berries, that
wherever there is one of these trees covered with fruit, and

134

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

flocks of Robins in the neighbourhood, the sportsman need
only take his stand near it, load, take aim, and fire; one
flock succeeding another with little interruption, almost the
whole day; by this method prodigious slaughter has been
made among them with little fatigue. When berries fail
they disperse themselves over the fields, and along the
fences, in search of worms and other insects. Sometimes
they will disappear for a week or two, and return again in
greater numbers than before; at which time the cities pour
out their sportsmen by scores, and the markets are plenti-
fully supplied with them at a cheap rate. In January,
1807, two young men, in one excursion after them, shot
thirty dozen. In the midst of such devastation, which con-
tinued many weeks, and by accounts extended from Massa-
chusetts to Maryland, some humane person took advantage
of a circumstance common to these birds in winter, to stop
the general slaughter. The fruit called poke-berries {Phy-
tolacca decandra, Linn.) is a favourite repast w'lih. the

Robin, after thcj- ai-c mdlo-n-od \>y the fi u:jt. The juiCO uf

the berries is of a beautiful crimson, and they are eaten in
such quantities by these birds, that their whole stomachs
are strongly tinged with the same red colour. A paragraph
appeared in the public papers, intimating, that from the great
quantities of these berries which the Robins had fed on,
they had become unwholesome, and even dangerous food;
and that several persons had suffered by eating of them.
The strange appearance of the bowels of the birds seemed
to corroborate this account. The demand for, and use of
them ceased almost instantly; and motives of self-preserva-
tion produced at once what all the pleadings of humanity
could not effect* When fat they are in considerable
esteem for the table, and probably not inferior to the turdi
of the ancients, which they bestowed so much pains on in
feeding and fattening. The young birds are frequently and
easily raised, bear the confinement of the cage, feed on
bread, fruits, &c. sing well, readily learn to imitate parts of
tunes, and are very pleasant and cheerful domestics. In
these I have always observed that the orange on the breast
is of a much deeper tint, often a dark mahogany or chesnut
colour, owing no doubt to their food and confinement.

The Robin is one of our earliest songsters; even in
March, while snow yet dapples the fields, and flocks of
them are dispersed about, some few will mount a post or
stake of the fence, and make short and frequent attempts at
their song. Early in April, they are only to be seen in
pairs, and deliver their notes with great earnestness, from

' Drayton, in his " View of South Carolina," p. 86, observes, that
"the Robins in winter devour the berries of the Bead tree (Melia Azedarach,)
in such large quantities, that after eating of them they are observed to fall down,
and are readily taken. This is ascribed more to distension from abundant eating
than from any deleterious qualities of the plant." The fact however, is, that they
are literally choked, many of the berries being too large to be swallowed.

the top of some tree detached from the woods. This song
has some resemblance to, and indeed is no bad imitation of
the notes of the Thrush or Thrasher ( Turdus rufus); but
if deficient in point of execution, he possesses more simpli-
city; and makes up in zeal what he wants in talent; so that
the notes of the Robin, in spring, are universally known,
and as universally beloved. They are as it were the pre-
lude to the grand general concert, that is about to burst upon
us from woods, fields, and thickets, whitened with blossoms,
and breathing fragrance. By the usual association of ideas,
we therefore listen with more pleasure to this cheerful bird
than to many others possessed of far superior powers, and
much greater variety. Even his nest is held more sacred
among school boys than that of some others; and while they
will exult in plundering a Jay's or a Cat-bird's, a general
sentiment of respect prevails on the discovery of a Robin's.
Whether he owes not some little of this veneration to the
well known and long established chnroctcr of his namesake
In Diiiahi, by a like association of ideas, I will not pretend
to determine. He possesses a good deal of his suavity of
manners, and almost always seeks shelter for his young in
summer, and subsistence for himself in the extremes of
winter, near the habitations of man.

The Robin inhabits the whole of North America from
Hudson's Bay to Nootka Sound, and as far south as Georgia,
though they rarely breed on this side the mountains farther
south than Virginia. Mr. Forster says, that about the be-
ginning of May they make their appearance in pairs at the
settlements of Hudson's Bay, at Severn river; and adds, a
circumstance altogether unworthy of belief, viz. that at
Moose fort they build, lay, and hatch in fourteen days ! but
that at the former place, four degrees more north, they are
said to take twenty-six days.* They are also common in
Newfoundland, quitting these northern parts in October.
The young during the first season are spotted with white
on the breast, and at that time have a good deal of resem-
blance to the Fieldfare of Europe.

Mr. Hearne informs us, that the red-breasted Thrushes,
are commonly called at Hudson's Bay the Red-birds; by
some the Black-birds, on account of their note; and by
others the American Fieldfares. That they make their
appearance at Churchill river about the middle of May,
and migrate to the south early in the fall. They are seldom
seen there but in pairs; and are never killed for their flesh
except by the Indian boys.t

Several authors have asserted, that the Red-breasted
Thrush cannot brook the confinement of the cage; and
never sings in that state. But, except the Mocking-
bird ( Turdus polyglottos), I know of no native bird which

• Phil. Trans. Ixii. 399.

t Journey to the Northern Ocean,

8, quarto. Lond, 1795.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

is so frequently domesticated, agrees better with confine-
ment, or sings in that state more agreeably than the Robin.
They generally suffer severely in moulting time, yet often
live to a considerable age. A lady who resides near Tarry-
town, on the banks of the Hudson, informed me, that she
raised, and kept one of these birds for seventeen years;
which sung as well, and looked as sprightly, at that age as
ever; but was at last unfortunately destroyed by a cat.
The morning is their favourite time for song. In passing
through the streets of our large cities, on Sunday, in the
months of April and May, a little after day-break, the
general silence which usually prevails without at that hour,
will enable you to distinguish every house where one of
these songsters resides, as he makes it then ring with his
music.

Not only the plumage of the Robin, .is of many other
birds, is subject to slight periodical changes of colour, but
even the legs, feet, and bill; the latter, in the male, being
frequently found tipt and ridged for half its length with
black. In the depth of winter their plumage is generally
best; at which time the full-grown bird, in his most perfect
dress, appears as exhibited in the plate.

BLUE BIRD.

[Plate XIL]

Le Rouge gorge bleu, Buffon, v. 212, PI. Enl. 390. —
Blue. Warbler, Lath, ii, 446. — Catesb. i, 47. — Mota-
cilla sialis, Linn. Syst. 336. — Bartram, j). 291. —
Mofacilla sialis, Linn. Syst. i,p. 187, Ed. 10. — Gmel.
Syst. I, p. 989. — Sylvia sialis, Lath. Ind. Orn. ii,
522. — ViEiLLOT, Otis, de VJim. Sept. pi. 101, viale;
102, female; 103, young. — La Gorge rouge de la Ca-
roline, Buff. PI. Enl. 396, Jig. 1, 7nale; Jig. 2, fe-
male.— J. Doughtt's collection.

The pleasing manners and sociable disposition of this
little bird entitle him to particular notice. As one of the
first messengers of spring, bringing the charming tidings to
our very doors, he bears his own recommendation always
along with him, and meets with a hearty welcome from
every body.

Though generally accounted a bird of passage, yet so
early as the middle of February, if the weather be open, he
usually makes his appearance about his old haunts, the barn,
orchard and fence posts. Storms and deep snows some-
times succeeding, he disappears for a time; but about the

middle of March is again seen, accompanied by his mate,
visiting the box in the garden, or the hole in the old apple-
tree, the cradle of some generations of his ancestors.
" When he first begins his amours," says a curious and
correct observer, "it is pleasing to behold his courtship, his
solicitude to please and to secure the favour of his beloved
female. He uses the tcnderest expressions, sits close by
her, caresses and sings to her his most endearing warblings.
When seated together, if he espies an insect delicious to her
taste, he takes it up, flies with it to her, spreads his wing
over her and puts it in her mouth."* If a rival makes his
appearance, (for they are ardent in their loves), he quits her
in a moment, attacks and pursues the intruder, as he shifts
from place to place, in tones that bespeak the jealousy of his
affection, conducts him with many reproofs beyond the ex-
tremities of his territory, and returns to warble out his
transports of triumph beside his beloved mate. The preli-
minaries being thus settled, and the spot fixed on, they begin
to clean out the old nest, and the rubbish of the former year,
and to prepare for the reception of their future offspring.
Soon after this another sociable little pilgrim (Molacilla
domestica. House Wren), also arrives from the south, and
finding such a snug birth pre-occupied, shows his spite, by
watching a convenient opportunity, and in the absence of
the owner popping in and pulling out sticks; but takes
special care to make off as fast as possible.

The female lays five, and sometimes six eggs, of a pale
blue colour; and raises two, and sometimes three broods in
a season; the male taking the youngest under his particular
care while the female is again sitting. Their principal food
are insects, particularly large beetles, and others of the co-
leopterous kinds that lurk among old dead and decaying
trees. Spiders are also a favourite repast with them. In
fall they occasionally regale themselves on the berries of the
sour gum; and as winter approaches, on those of the red
cedar, and on the fruit of a rough hairy vine that runs up
and cleaves fast to the trunks of trees. Ripe persimmons
is another of their favourite dishes; and many other fruits
and seeds which I have found in their stomachs at that sea-
son, which, being no botanist, I am unable to particularize.
They are frequently pestered with a species of tape-worm,
some of which I have taken from their intestines of an
extraordinary size, and in some cases in great numbers.
Most other birds are also plagued with these vermin; but
the Blue-bird seems more subject to them than any I know,
except the Woodcock. An account of the different species
of vermin, many of which I doubt not are non-descripts,
that infest the plumage and intestines of our birds, would of
itself form an interesting publication; but as this belongs

* Letter from Mr. William Bartram to the amhor.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

more properly to the entomologist, I shall only, in the
course of this work, take notice of some of the most re-
markable; and occasionally represent them in the same plate
with those birds on which they are usually found.

The usual spring and summer song of the Blue-bird is a
soft, agreeable and oft-repeated warble, uttered with open
quivering wings, and is extremely pleasing. In his motions
and general character he has great resemblance to the Robin
Red-breastof Britain ; and had he the brown olive of that bird
instead of his own blue, could scarcely be distinguished
from him. Like him he is known to almost every child;
and shows as much confidence in man by associating with
him in summer, as the other by his familiarity in winter.
He is also of a mild and peaceful disposition, seldom fight-
ing or quarrelling with other birds. His society is courted
by the inhabitants of the country, and few farmers neglect
to provide for him, in some suitable place, a sung little sum-
mer house, ready fitted and rent free. For this he more
than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his
song, and the multitude of injurious insects which he daily
destroys. Towards fall, that is in the month of October,
his song changes to a single plaintive note, as he passes over
the yellow, many coloured woods; and its melancholy air
recals to our minds the approaching decay of the face of
nature. Even after the trees are stript of their leaves, he
still lingers over his native fields, as if loth to leave them.
About the middle or end of November few or none of them
are seen; but with every return of mild and open weather,
we hear his plaintive note amidst the fields, or in the air,
seeming to deplore the devastations of winter. Indeed he
appears scarcely ever totally to forsake us; but to follow
fair weather through all its journeyings till the return of
spring.

The Blue-bird, in summer and fall, is fond of frequenting
open pasture fields; and there perching on the stalks of the
great mullein, to look out for passing insects. A whole
family of them are often seen, thus situated, as if receiving
lessons of dexterity from their more expert parents, who
■ can espy a beetle crawling among the grass, at a considerable
distance; and after feeding on it, instantly resume their
former position. But whoever informed Dr. Latham that
" this bird is never seen on trees, though it makes its nest
in the holes of them!" might as well have said, that the
Americans are never seen in the streets, though they build
their houses by the sides of them. For what is there in the
construction of the feet and claws of this bird to prevent it
from perching? Or what sight more common to an inhabit-
ant of this country than the Blue-bird perched on the top
of a peach or apple-tree; or among the branches of those
reverend broadarmed chesnut trees, that stand alone in the
middle of our fields, bleached by the rains and blasts of

The Blue-bird is six inches and three quarters in length,
the wings remarkably full and broad; the whole upper parts
are of a rich sky blue, with purple reflections; the bill and
legs are black; inside of the mouth and soles of the feet
yellow, resembling the colour of a ripe persimmon; the
shafts of all the wing and tail feathers are black; throat,
neck, breast, and sides partially under the wings, chesnut;
wings dusky black at the tips; belly and vent white; some-
times the secondaries are exteriorly light brown, but the
bird has in that case not arrived at his full colour. The
female is easily distinguished by the duller cast of the back,
the plumage of which is skirted with light brown, and by
the red on the breast being much fainter, and not descend-
ing near so low as in the male; the secondaries are also more
dusky. This species is found over the whole United States;
in the B.ihama islands where many of them winter; as also
in Mexico, Brazil, and Guiana.

Mr. Edwards mentions that the specimen of this bird
which he was favoured with, was sent from the Bermudas;
and as these islands abound with the cedar, it is highly pro-
bable that many of those birds pass from our continent
thence, at the commencement of winter, to enjoy the mild-
ness of that climate as well as their favourite food.

As the Blue-bird is so regularly seen in winter, after the
continuance of a few days of mild and open weather, it has
given rise to various conjectures as to the place of his re-
treat. Some supposing it to be in close sheltered thickets,
lying to the sun; others the neighbourhood of the sea, where
the air is supposed to be more temperate, and where the
matters thrown up by the waves furnish him with a constant
and plentiful supply of food. Others trace him to the dark
recesses of hollow trees, and subterraneous caverns, where
they suppose he dozes away the winter, making, like Ro-
binson Crusoe, occasional reconnoitering excursions from
his castle, whenever the weather happens to be favourable.
But amidst the snows and severities of winter, I have sought
for him in vain in the most sheltered situations of the mid-
dle States; and not only in the neighbourhood of the sea,
but on both sides of the mountains. I have never, indeed,
explored the depths of caverns in search of him, because I
would as soon expect to meet with tulips and butterflies
there, as Blue-birds, but among hundreds of woodmen, who
have cut down trees of all sorts, and at all seasons, I have
never heard one instance of these birds being found so im-
mured in winter; while in the whole of the middle and
eastern States, the same general observation seems to pre-
vail that the Blue-bird always makes his appearance in
winter after a few days of mild and open weather. On the
other hand, I have myself found them numerous in the
woods of North and South Carolina, in the depth of winter,
and I have also been assured by different gentlemen of re-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

137

spectability, who have resided in the islands of Jamaica,
Cuba, and the Bahamas and Bermudas, that this very bird
is common there in winter. We also find, from the works
of Hernandes Piso and others, that it is well known in
Mexico, Guiana, and Brazil; and if so, the place of its win-
ter retreat is easily ascertained, without having recourse to
all the trumpery of holes and caverns, torpidity, hyberna-
tion, and such ridiculous improbabilities.

Nothing is more common in Pennsylvania than to see
large flocks of these birds in spring and fall, passing, at con-
siderable heights in the air; from the south in the former,
and from the north in the latter season. I have seen, in the
month of October, about an hour after sun-rise, ten or fif-
teen of them descend from a great height and settle on the
top of a tall detached tree, appearing, from their silence
and sedateness, to be strangers, and fatigued. After a pause
of a few minutes they began to dress and arrange their plu-
mage, and continued so employed for ten or fifteen minutes
more; then, on a few warning notes being given, perhaps
by the leader of the party, the whole remounted to a vast

height, steering in a direct line for the south-west. In pass-
ing along the chain of the Bahamas towards the West In-
dies, no great difficulty can occur from the frequency of
these islands; nor even to the Bermudas, which are said to
be 600 miles from the nearest part of the continent. This
may seem an extraordinary flight for so small a bird; but it
is nevertheless a fact that it is performed. If we suppose
the Blue-bird in this case to fly only at the rate of a mile
per minute, which is less than I have actually ascertained
him to do over land, ten or eleven hours would be sufticient
to accomplish the journey; besides the chances he would
have of resting places by the way, from the number of ves-
sels that generally navigate those seas. In like manner two
days at most, allowing for numerous stages for rest, would
conduct him from the remotest regions of Mexico to any
part of the Atlantic States. When the natural history of that
part of the continent and its adjacent isles, are better known,
and the periods at which its birds of passage arrive and de-
part, are truly ascertained, I have no doubt but these sup-
positions will be fully corroborated.

ENCOUNTER WITH A PANTHER.

There is no subject on which the mind dwells with so
much interest and intensity of thought, as the retrospect
of past life — to call to remembrance the scenes of early
youth — that period of existence which was spent in scenes
of gaiety and pleasure — exploits, replete with danger — ex-
cursions, pregnant with difficulties and hairbreadth escapes

— these fill the mind with a train of thought inexpressibly
interesting; and they become tenfold more delightful by
the lapse of riper years. To the mind of him whose youth-
ful days have been passed in the lonely wilds of a newly
settled country, where every day's experience gave rise to
some new event ; and ingenuity and prowess were often
necessarily placed in competition with the ferocity of savage
animals, it is a source of contemplation, embodying in itself

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

feasts of pleasure, known only to the hunter, after these
seasons of adventure are past, and when age, with his hoary
locks, unfits him for toilsome enterprise, in which it was
once his delight to engage, and his glory to excel. Old
age has not yet laid his paralyzing hand on me; still my
occupations are changed: instead of the noble forests through
which I have roamed in quest of the Bear, the Wolf, and
the Panther, it is my lot to trudge the streets of this goodly
city, and take my share of the trials and perplexities atten-
dant on a city life; but the reminiscences of those early
days come over my mind, with an influence at once salutary
and soothing, when it is disturbed by any of those nameless
perplexities to which human nature is heir. Under the
influence of such feelings I determined (after an absence of
several years) to revisit my native town, in the state of
New York, and about 150 miles north of Philadelphia —
that I engaged an old companion to accompany me once more,
on a hunting excursion, the details of which I furnish with
pleasure, if you think them sufficiently interesting for your
"Cabinet." On arriving at the above mentioned place, two
faithful and old companions claimed my particular regard,
viz: a Rifle, which had served me in the hour of need, and
had slain its thousands before I wielded it, and Lion, the
faithful Dog that had never shrunk from danger, nor turned
tail on the most savage monsters of the forest. These excited
an impatience which could scarcely be restrained, and I
eagerly embraced the first opportunity to roam the mountain
wilds. My friend, who was ever willing, readily consented
to an excursion the next day; but being somewhat indis-
posed, he did not enter into it with the same spirit which
marked his enterprises in former years — he had been re-
peatedly informed by his men, who were cutting timber
on a stream called " Shad Pound Brook," that a Panther
had crossed the "Log road" several times during the winter,
and as the snow had fallen to a considerable depth, the sup-
position was, that it could not be far from that place. From
the circumstance of their having short legs, they are much
averse to travelling far; especially as at this time the depth
of snow was eighteen inches, and it must have been hunger
alone which urged this animal to travel in search of food.
As this county had been hunted over so frequently by my
friend and myself, we could judge pretty accurately of the
neighbourhood in which the Panther was to be found, and
as the mountain next beyond that, on which the men were
cutting timber, was the place in which we would most likely
find it, we resolved to take the sleigh as far as these men,
and then seek the object of our pursuit on foot — we accord-
ingly departed ; but on arriving at the spot where we intended
leaving our sleigh, found our prospects even more gloomy
than we had anticipated. We sank to our knees in the snow at
every step; but, as I was anxious to kill something, we perse-
vered with steady pace through many difficulties. We had not

proceeded far, however, before fresh tracks of deer appeared ;
they inclined down the mountain and across the hollow to
the next mountain. It was agreed that I should follow
until I could get a shot, which, the freshness of the tracks
warranted a belief, would soon occur ; and that my compa-
nion, who was somewhat indisposed, would continue his
path alongside the mountain, and under the branches of the
hemlock trees, where, the snow being of less depth, made
it more agreeable to travel. I followed the tracks for some
time, and expected at every step to see them spring up before
me. Presently I heard my companion give two whoops — this
was a signal preconcerted always, one call to ascertain the
direction of each other — two in succession was the signal to
approach the caller. But such was the intensity of my pur-
suit after the deer, with the expectation of seeing them
every moment, that I should certainly have disregarded the
signal, had I not been apprehensive that my friend was
overcome with fatigue: this determined me to obey it,
when, to my agreeable surprise, I found on reaching
him, that he had discovered the Panther's track, and nearly
fresh. We set oflf in eager pursuit, reckless of the snow,
and, after proceeding about one mile, saw where it had gone
under a ledge of rocks and again came out and made several
jumps. Here we thought we had aroused it ; conse-
quently the dog was let ofi" in chase; he did not run more
than three hundred yards, before he came upon two deer,
after which he led off, and could only be recalled by dis-
charging our rifles. We were here disappointed, the cause
of the Panther's actions appeared to have been a disposition
for play, springing and jumping about voluntarily. Af-
ter Lion's return, and reloading our rifles, we proceeded. To
all appearance, the animal must have made this track but the
night previous, as most of their wanderings are during this
season. About one mile further we came to another ledge
of rocks, two hundred yards in length, and twelve or fifteen
feet high, perpendicular, and like a wall — here the Panther
had exercised its muscular powers, by springing to the top
of these rocks and then to the ground again — thus, when
undisturbed, this animal is dissimilar to others, always
marking his travels by this kind of deviation, which seems
to proceed from mere sportiveness, and is confined to
this class; as they are not constructed for running or
travelling a great distance, but possess rather great muscular
strength, which they often call into exercise by this kind of
diversion: the height and distance which a Panther can
jump, is really astonishing, when their clumsy appearance
is taken into consideration. This ledge of rocks skirted the
side of the mountain to the distance of two hundred yards
or more; at its termination was a cave, in which we sup-
posed our antagonist had sought a place of repose — the
mouth of this cave was an opening four feet high and two
broad, the entrance descended gradually to the distance of

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

six feet, then horizontally about thirty, to the extreme end ;
the ground outside was perhaps two feet higher than the
floor of the den, in consequence of dirt, leaves, and other
rubbish accumulating and dropping from the mountain side,
and the water, by dripping from the rocks, had descended
along the inclined part of the den, and so frozen, as to form
a sheet of ice to a considerable depth into it. As we could
discover no other opening to the cave but the one already
mentioned, nor any track which could prove its departure
from that spot, we felt confident that the Panther had taken
refuge there. We had now a most formidable antagonist
to contend with, and as several years had elapsed since I
killed a wild animal, it was a moment of thrilling interest —
to destroy an animal like (his was the sum total of my
wishes, and the highest point to which a hunter desires to
attain. I therefore requested of my companion permission
to descend (as we were at this time on the ledge of rocks)
and shoot the Panther, which I supposed was secreted be-
neath our feet, and would make his appearance as soon as I
approached the spot of his concealment. I accordingly de-
scended, and it was not till then that we were certain he
had taken refuge in the den. I approached within twenty
feet of the cave, or to a distance which I considered per-
fectly secure from the creature's jump, in case it made an
attempt to come out, or that would give me the advantage
of shooting before it could make a spring at me. Having
encountered these animals frequently, I was cautious of ap-
proaching too near; but my companion, who was still on the
ledge of rocks, kept urging me to go up to the mouth
of the den and endeavour to see the animal and shoot it;
but I replied, "do not push me into difficulties too fast."
He answered, that if I did not go to the mouth of the den,
he would, and accordingly came down with that intention.
Knowing so well the nature of our adversary, we used every
precautionary measure, previous to an attack, and com-
menced clearing the snow from the mouth of the cave,
to a distance of twenty feet, so that, in case the Panther
attacked us, we could retreat that distance without encum-
brance to our feet. When this was done, we commenced
pelting the mouth of the cave with snow balls; but it would
not excite our enemy to motion. We drew the conclusion,
from this circumstance, that the Panther, either from cowar-
dice or security, would not risk an attempt to leave the
cave. We approached the opening, and then the animal
retired to the depth of its retreat. Our appearance now ex-
cited its displeasure, which was manifested by tremendous
growls, that made the rocks ring again: it still seemed
unwilling to depart from a place, which offered so much
security. We now resolved to try other measures to dislodge
our enemy, and commenced by threshing at the aperture
with a long stout pole; but this failed alike, with the other
means we had employed to rouse it to action. Emboldened

at last by its cowardice, we attempted to punch it; but
this had no other effect than to produce the most appal-
ling growls, and spitting like a cat. Lion, himself, seemed
sensible of the creature's want of spirit; and was with diffi-
culty restrained from dashing in to the combat, in which
event, his life would have paid the forfeit, without ren-
dering us any assistance. Being convinced that nothing
would induce the Panther to leave its strong hold, I
formed the resolution of shooting it, if possible, in its
very den. I requested my friend to stand in readiness
to shoot, or let the dog in, in case I failed, or the Pan-
ther should spring at me. This arrangement made, I
succeeded in getting a small distance into the cave, and
after remaining some time, could see perfectly well. I
found, however, that there was no chance to shoot it, even
when so near; as, instead of getting to the extreme end of
the den, the Panther had concealed itself behind a rock,
which jutted so much above the bottom of the cave, as to
shield it completely from my view. The animal's cowar-
dice increased my courage so much, that I determined on
using every means to destroy it. I requested my compa-
nion to procure me a long pole to punch it with. My
plan was to lay my rifle parallel with the pole, and the mo-
ment the Panther seized the end with his mouth, to fire;
and thus hoped to shoot him directly in the head; and should
I be unsuccessful, and the Panther make a rush, I was to
fall flat on my front, provided I could not get out in time,
and let it run over me to escape. My friend, who was a
bold man, and a first rate shot, was to kill it as soon as it
appeared; or, if the Panther stopped to give me battle, was
to let the dog enter and seize it ; and thus give me a
chance to retire. I knew this was the only mode; for were
I to present any obstacle to the animal's progress, as that it
could not conveniently pass, my life would pay the forfeit
in so doing: but I had good reason to doubt its courage,
and, therefore, felt no great alarm for my safety.

My friend having procured the pole, I put my plan into
operation: the first push I made roused the anger and fero-
city of my enemy, and convinced me that nothing but cow-
ardice on its part saved me from utter destruction. The
cave echoed and trembled with his growling. The Panther
seized the end of the pole with so much fury as to bend it
over the rock, and still kept its head from my view. So
long as I tried to pull the stick, the animal kept a firm hold:
but the moment I ceased pulling, it also relaxed its hold.
The actions of this creature were so quick, that it was im-
possible to direct aim at it with any degree of certainty;
and on raising its head to seize the pole, the flashes from its
eyes were distinct, but so quick were they out of sight, that
it resembled, more than any thing else, sparks struck from
a flint. So strong was this animal, that with both my hands,
and utmost strength, I could not pull its head one inch.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

After labouring for some time in this way, I requested my
companion to procure me a pole much stouter than the first,
so that, when the animal seized it, he could not press it be-
hind the rock; and must of necessity keep its head in view.
The pole, though not answering my expectations exactly,
enabled me, nevertheless, to discharge my piece at the
monster. I was exceedingly dcsirious of making a fatal
shot, and as an hour had elapsed since I entered the den, I
determined, at all hazards, to fire. Possibly I might hit —
eight chances out of ten were in my favour of doing so — or
that in case I missed, I could, with one spring, clear the
mouth of the cave. Under these impressions, I thrust the
pole once more at the Panther, and the moment it was
seized, levelled my rifle and fired; at the next instant
I made a spring at the opening; my feet slipped on
the ice, and I slid backwards into the cave again. My
friend, who was on the alert, seeing me fall, and apprehen-
sive lest the Panther had seized me, let Lion loose: he
sprang over me in an instant, and made an attack upon the
common enemy, whose fury was now aroused to the highest
pitch by the ineffectual shot: the odds were fearfully great,
as a single blow of the monster's paw was sufficient to hurl
the poor dog with violence against the rocks, and fortu-
nately, beyond the reach of another, or his career would
have ended on the spot. It may be supposed that I quit the
cave with all convenient despatch; for had I remained, my
condition might have been even worse than poor Lion's,
whose shoulder and side exhibited three frightful scratches,
of some fourteen inches long, which left four of his ribs
entirely bare. Our efforts to dislodge the Panther, proved,
thus far, unavailing; and having spent much time and labour,
and the day being excessively cold, we thought of blocking
him up until we could procure assistance, and the means
necessary to accomplish his destruction, for we felt unwil-
ling, after all our toil, to suffer him to escape. I recollected
at this instant, that whilst in the cave, I thought I saw a
ray of light or small aperture at the extreme end, when the
Panther altered its position. I mentioned this circumstance
to my companion, who proposed an examination of the back
part, or outer side of the cavern, and I was to remain at
the mouth, whilst he proceeded to examine. This cavern
(as we have stated) was at the termination of the ledge of
rocks, and jutted out considerably from the mountain,
against which a gi-eat number of hemlock trees had fallen,
and these being covered with snow at the time, prevented
our seeing the exact conformation of the ledge, until I men-
tioned the circumstance of my seeing the light. My friend
proceeded there instantly, and soon returned with the infor-
mation, that there was a small aperture in the rock about
six inches wide and a foot long; that the Panther had com-
pletely jammed up the hole with his rump; whilst his tail
projected outside nearly its whole length. Here was a dis-

covery. I shall never forget the expression of my friend's
countenance, when he exclaimed, with great emphasis, "my
gracious! I can take him by the tail! and I have a great
mind to do so. I can then say, that I caught a full grown,
live Panther by the tail." He might, indeed, have done
so with impunity; but whether the measure would have
been politic, was another consideration — one thing how-
ever, was certain, that was, his destruction, for which we
had been toiling in the midst of peril — it was now an easy
task; the bullet might be driven through his very vitals,
without incurring any personal risk. Would it, I thought,
be an act of cruelty to destroy this cruelest of animals in his
fancied security? or would it not rather be considered a
service rendered to the community at large? This animal
might, if suffered to escape, prowl around the settler's habi-
tation, and carry off, in its unguarded moment, the helpless
infant; for when hunger presses, it becomes bold and dar-
ing, and nothing in the shape of food comes amiss. I accord-
ingly placed my rifle near his rump, and fired, the ball
coming out near his throat. It made one spring, and roared
tremendously; bit the rocks, and with its claws attempted
to enlarge the aperture, and get at us; but the wound was
mortal, and it fell dead in the cave. We then entered, and
fastening a withe around its neck, dragged it out: it proved to
be a male of the largest size. We took it with us to our village
(Deposit) from whence it was taken to Delphi, in the same
county; and although Panthers were numerous there; yet
the circumstance of his having been "caught by the tail,"
excited the astonishment of all who witnessed the magni-
tude of the monster. T. M. H.

ANECDOTE OF A CROW.

The following circumstance was lately told me by an old
gentleman, a member of the Society of Friends, and one
in whose veracity I place the utmost reliance: About
ten years ago as he was riding in his carriage from this city
to his residence near Darby, passing a spot of marshy
ground, he observed a Crow hover over it, presently dart
down, and immediately ascend, bearing in its claws a Wood-
cock, held oddly enough by one wing, and struggling vio-
lently. As the direction in which the crow passed was
directly across the road along which the gentleman was tra-
velling, he formed the design of compelling his rapacious
Crowship to release the captive. With his whip he struck
several blows sharply upon the top of the carriage, and at
the same time, raising a shout, the Crow dropped his bur-
den, and flew screaming to the woods, and the Woodcock to
his marsh, without having received any apparent injury.
Believing the foregoing to be an unusual occurrence, I
submit it for the speculation of the curious. A. B.

May, 1S31.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

CANINE ESTABLISHMENTS.

The two largest establishments of this kind, not sporting
ones, are in the hands of two persons, who might be the
least expected to have them. The first is lier Royal High-
ness the Duchess of York, who has a most numerous nur-
sery of Dogs of the smaller species, of every age, and nearly
of every country. Not having the happiness to enjoy any
other nursery, they occupy many of her best apartments,
and are carefully accommodated with cushions to rest their
wearied limbs, when they incline to repose; and it requires
some dexterity, on entering her Highness's apartments, to
steer your way so scientifically, as not to tread on any of
these sleeping beauties.

Though some cynical philosophers might call this pur-
suit a mode of getting through life dog-cheap, yet it affords
some useful purposes. In the first place, it is at least, an in-
nocent mode of passing time; and secondl)-, it has afforded
many opportunities for the painter, of exercising his talent,
and having his skill rewarded by the munificence of her
Royal Highness, who has almost found constant employ-
ment for the genius of an Animal painter, Mr. Chalon, in
painting these favourites.

We are not sure, we might not add another artist to the
account, we mean the Undertaker, as we understand, many
of the more favoured animals have been buried in the park
at Oatlands, with all due ceremony and decorum, realizing
the Elysium of Virgil —

cadem sequilur tellure repostos

The next Lady, who exhibits this remarkable attachment
to the canine race, is the beautiful and amiable Viscountess
Castlereagh, who has the same excuse to plead, as her Royal
Highness of York — not having a nursery of her own, to en-
gage her attention, or employ her time. Her Academy of
Dogs, if we may be allowed the expression, is on a far differ-
ent scale from those of the Duchess of York, hers being as
diminutive as those of Lady Castlereagh are grand and mag-
nificent. Whether the diplomatic interests of her Lord,
may have favoured her wishes, is uncertain; but she pos-
sesses dogs of different countries, wherever size and beauty
are to be found. Whoever may have the good fortune to
meet this accomplished lady, in her walks around her seat
at North Carey, in Kent, will always find her surrounded
and defended by a most powerful and magnificent party of
dogs, looking "most terrible things," but seeming most
perfectly obedient to her voice. Amongst her collection,
we believe, she has Russian, Turkish, and Spanish dogs.

The following whimsical anecdote is mentioned, as hav-
ing occurred to her Ladyship, as she was taking one of her
Nn

accustomed walks, with her canine guard: a man who was
walking on the road came up, and taking off his hat, said —
" I suppose as how. Ma'am, you be a dog-fancier, or may-
hap you exhibit with these here animals at different pleaces.
as may be agreeable; if so be, as it may be suitable, I should
be glad to join company, having a few dancing dogs of my
own."

Her Ladyship laughed, but with her accustomed grace and
good-humour, informed the man — " She was not in that line
of business." Scott.

WHITE FISH OF THE LAKES.

The White Fish is taken by both whites and Indians with
a scoop net, which is fastened to a pole about ten feet long.
It is hardly possible for me to describe the skill with which
the Indians take these fish. But I will try. Two of them
go out in a bark canoe, that you could take in your hand
like a basket, and in the midst of the rapids, or rather just
below where they pitch and foam most. One sits near the
stern, and paddles; the other stands in the bow, and with
the dexterity of a wire-dancer, balances " this egg-shell,"
that you or I would be certain to turn over in our attempts
to keep steady. When a fish is seen through the water,
which is clear as crystal, the place is indicated by the man
with the net, when, by a dexterous and quick motion of the
paddle, by the Indian holding it, he shoots the canoe to the
spot, or within reach of it, when the net is thrown over the
fish, and it is scooped up, and thrown into the canoe — mean-
while the eye of the person in the stern is kept steadily
fixed upon the breakers, and the eddy, and whirl, and fury,
of the current; and the little frail bark is made to dance
among them, lightsome as a cork; or is shot away into a
smoother place, or kept stationary by the motion of that
single paddle, as circumstances may require it. It is not
possible to look at these fishermen Indians, and Canada
French, and even boys and girls, flying about over these
rapids, and reaching out this pole with a net to it, without a
sensation of terror. Yet it has scarcely ever happened that
any of them are lost; and I believe never, unless when
they have been drunk.

This fish being, in the universal estimation, the finest
that swims, and resembles our shad, except its head, which
is smaller and more pointed. Their weight varies from four
to ten, and sometimes fourteen pounds. The meat is as
white as the breast of a partridge; and the bones are less
numerous and larger than in our shad. I never tasted any
thing of the fish kind, not even excepting my Oneida trout,
to equal it. It is said they do not retain this character after
being salted; in this respect our shad and salmon have the
preference.

THF CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

REPLY TO SPORTSMAN'S REJOINDER.

Messbs. Editors: — Your Correspondent, the ^^Sports-
man," certainly deserves much credit for his ingenuity in
discovering the assailable points in my argument, and I
acknowledge there may be much truth in some parts of his
reply — but I regret he has not comprehended my diagram,
and on this miscomprehension, has founded a system of
reasoning and proof entirely irrelevant to the case. In my
explanation of the problem, I supposed that one second of
time might elapse from the commencem,ent of pulling
the trigger to the arrival of the load, which we will
presume, to simplify the case, to be a ball, at the muzzle.
This, I imagine, would not be much out of the way, for a
sensible interval of time does ensue, after the finger begins
to press the trigger, before the load issues from the barrel.
When it has arrived at the very muzzle, and that muzzle
still bearing full on the object, is the instant that my prin-
ciple commences, the preceding being a mere introduction
to the case. Let us imagine the gun and the object to be
stationary, the ball will of course pass straight from one to the
other. Let us suppose the bird alone to be in motion, at
S7 feet in the second, the ball will necessarily, if it take a
second to fly from the gun to where the bird was at the mo-
ment of discharge, be S7 feet behind the bird. The ball
has in this case but one motion, and that a forward one.
We will now in addition give it a latteral force. The
gun, of course, is useless to the load after it has issued,
and its movement may therefore cease. The ball depends
for its forward projection, on the powder, and for its late-
ral power, on the motion of the gun, and on no other
possible cause. Suppose the ball be thrown from a mere hol-
low and no barrel to exist, it would necessarily go straight
forward from its chamber to the point toward which it was
directed. If we give it a tube to pass thro', up to the very ob-
ject itself, it will reach the object it is true, but every inch it
travels the route, it is receiving from this passage a lateral
force which increases from the chamber, which we will
take for the centre of motion, to the end, being from a
unit, to 87 feet in the second. During the passage of the
ball through a tube thus in motion, it will, whilst in the canal,
perform a portion of an elipse — somewhat on the same prin-
ciple that a body projected into the air will do it, to return to
the same point from whence it started — being caused in one
case, by the lateral pressure of the tube, and in the other, the
attraction of gravitation, being in the latter instance a variable
power, acting every instant in a difi'crent line according to
the point over which the object is passing. In the case in
dispute, the ball, so soon as it issues from the barrel, will
pass in a right line, because gravitation is not considered,
and the projectile has received all the forces that can influ-
ence it. The ' Sportsman' does not object to the swing of the

muzzle of an ordinary gun being 10 feet in the second; or
he may take any distance he may choose, for, a principle
that is ^'■2}hilosophically correct," cannot be invalidated
by a change of proportion alone. When the ball has there-
fore arrived at the end of the barrel, it will have passed thro'
a given distance from the centre of motion, and acquired
the sole lateral power of the part to which it may be at the
instant attached, and if it remain attached, and the muzzle per-
form a circle, would arrive at the same point again, in a time
exactly according to the rate of motion of the part to which
it was fixed. We will however let it loose during some part
of the revolution, and how fast will it go, allowing it has
received no impulse other than the circulatory motion of
the part. Certainly not more rapidly than the source of its
motion, the muzzle, exactly as in "Sportsman's" case of a
man on a fleet horse, the object thrown, possessing precisely
the same forward momentum, and returning by the power of
gravitation to his hand, — or in the sailing ship, the object
retaining a certain force parallel to the surface of the
earth, besides the downward gravitation, and arriving at the
foot of the mast, simply, because the foot of the mast is tra-
velling at the same identical rate that the head is, and the
falling body possessing precisely the same momentum. —
Please tell me, Messrs. Editors, where the parallelism can
be, between these instances of "Sportsman" and the shoot-
ing, for he certainly proves by them, that a projected body
receives the lateral momentum of the part from whence
it issues, and no more. In his illustrations, he forgets that
every point and body considered, are moving at the same
rate — whereas, in the shooting problem, the breech of the
gun may be supposed a Jixed centre of motion, around
which the other bodies are revolving, and each possessing
a different rapidity in proportion to its distance from the
centre. Let me take another instance of the "Sports-
man," for I certainly desire to afford him every ad-
vantage in my power. We will allow, the surface of the
earth moves at the rate of 950 feet from west to east
in a second of time, and will imagine a tower sufficiently
elevated above its surface, the top of which, must describe a
a circle as much greater than the surface of the earth as
will require in the revolution round the axis, a circulatory
momentum of 1000 feet in the second to preserve its rela-
tive situation. Suppose a body to be projected from the earth
at the foot, exactly towards the top of the tower. At start-
ing, it possesses a lateral force of 950 feet in the second,
and during a second, has arrived at the same height as this
supposed point. Now where will it be ? The answer is
self-evident, it will be 50 feet behind the object towards
which it was directly pointed at the moment of its departure.
It still retains its side force of 950 feet in a second, and on
returning to the earth at the expiration of the second second,
will reach the point from whence it started, although tha*.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

point will be now 1900 feet to the east. But in its flight, it will
have made a mathetnatical angle, from a direct line drawn
from the point of emission to the centre of the earth, the
maximum of its altitude being 50 feet west of a perpendi-
cular, but as in measurable distances this would be inappre-
ciable, it need not be considered. Let us reverse the case,
and suppose a body let fall from this point in the air which
is passing forward at 1000 feet, and it reaches the earth
which is travelling at 950 feet in the second. Now where
will the body touch on the surface ? Just 50 feet in advance
of the foot of the tower.

All this proves, that if the muzzle of the gun be passing
laterally at the rate of 10 feet in the second, the ball can
possibly receive but the same momentum, and whether the
load be one second or the 20th part, in passing to the object,
the proportion will be the same.

In addition to all this, the duck-shooters who live at
Egg-harbour and on the Chesapeake, have always advis-
ed to give a certain allowance. I have conversed with
scores of them, and have never heard a variance of senti-
ment, and in objecting to a short gun, the reason they have
urged was, that they had to give their aim so much
advance. At sixty yards, heavy shot will scatter several
feet when fired from the best gun, and therefore, many
birds are struck, when the mass of the load may have passed
far behind the duck.

In common game, it would be absurd to make any allow-
ance, from the slowness of flight, and general nearness of
object, and where the number of pellets is so great, the
space covered, will be more than sufficient. It is with a
ball alone, the matter can be determined.

With respect to the rest of "Sportsman Rejoinder," his
explanation and reasoning are certainly convincing, and
it gives me much pleasure to acknowledge the cor-
rectness of his philosophy. That a peculiar sound can
be heard when ducks are struck, there is no doubt, though
it is more than probable, the non-entering pellets produce
it ; although, as I before remarked, a ball that passes
through a deer can be heard distinctly to strike. My object
was merely to prove, that sufficient time did elapse, for the
sound to be heard distinctly by the shooter, and that rarely
a duck was killed, without sorne of the shot being heard im-
pinging, and old duck shooters have informed me they
could say without hesitation, from the sound alone, what
part of the bird received the load. I. T. S.

Extract of a Letter from a Gentleman in the Country
to his Friend in Philadelphia.

'• There is now in the grove near the house, a cock phea-
sant which drums every A&y. Yesterday morning as I
came out of the east door, which leads from the house to

the office, a favourite peacock was standing close to it, and
I heard behind a lilac bush, two or three yards from the
door, the pheasant's peculiar clucking noise: as I wished
not to disturb him, I walked on towards the office; but had
scarcely passed the bush ere he went ofl" with a whirr, almost
touching Jack, the peacock, who seemed to mistake the noise
for that of some missile aimed at him. He took to his wings,
his long tail, which spreads ten feet, dangling after him, and
scolding all the way, flew to one of the tall trees on the lake
shore, where he spent an hour on the liighest branch, appa-
rently in deep reflection as to the cause of his alarm. I saw
him afterwards with his long neck stretched out, treading
most gently on tiptoe, and examining with his keen eyes
behind the lilac bush. It is not a trifle that will frighten
Jack. He is very familiar, and comes at a call to take an}'
thing from your hand. He possesses great courage, and has
several battles daily with two superb wild turkey co^s of
great size and most brilliant plumage, which we have do-
mesticated. Last jcar, when they were in their second
season, he beat them both, but this year they overpower
him with their great weight; and besides, they are now
joined by a son, a lialf-blood, which renders the battle very
unequal. But Jack's rule is, never to decline a combat of-
fered by them, and the servants have very frequently to
use switches to separate the belligerents. Whilst I write,
I hear Jack's shout of defiance on the south side of the office,
answered by the war cry gobble of the turkies on the north,
and I shall have to ring the bell for some mediator to in-
terpose between them." May, 1831.

Notes of a Naturalist. By Jacob Gbeen, M. D.
SAGACITY OF A DOG.

'Tis thought by some, that all animals are surrounded by
an odoriferous atmosphere, and that each species, and even
each individual, emits a volatile principle peculiar to itself
I knew a person whose sense of smell was so exceedingly
delicate as to enable him to distinguish his friends by this
odorous principle alone. From some recent experiments
of a French chemist, this odour is found in the blood, and
may be readily produced from it by the addition of a little
strong sulphuric acid. Every one familiar with rural em-
ployments knows, that after sheep have been washed or
shorn, there is great confusion among the flock; the lambs
and ewes run bleating about, and it is some time before the
mother and the offspring recognize each other. This embar-
rassment, is, no doubt, occasioned by the loss or the dimi-
nution, in intensity, of the volatile odoriferous principle
peculiar to each. It has been long ago remarked, that the
brute creation recognize each other more from the smell
than the sight. The following anecdote may serve still

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

farther to illustrate this curious subject. It was recorded in
my diary some years ago.

At my boarding house in Albany, there is an old family
dog, called Cesar. This animal seems to have a special and
violent antipathy to all swine: the moment a hog makes
his appearance in the street, or in the extensive yard attach-
ed to the house, Cesar will dash upon it, and worry it in
the most violent manner. Among the servants in our esta-
blishment, we have a little French barber named Ferdinand:
now Ferdinand and Cesar are almost inseparable friends;
Cesar espouses the cause of his master, right or wrong, on
all occasions; and Ferdinand protects his canine liend, with
the enthusiasm of his countrymen, from all the assaults of
cook, scullion, or lackey. In process of time, Ferdinand,
by the consent of our host, established a piggery in the
yard, and who, but Cesar, has undertaken to watch over
his little herd, which arc permitted occasionally to roam
about in the streets of the city. Ferdinand's hogs are all
entirely white, and often after their excursions abroad, they
are accompanied home by a host of acquaintances of the like
colour; but Cesar never suffered one of the strangers to re-
main on our premises. He knows his master's property
much better than he does himself; and should he not be
present when they are fed, he is always called to ascertain
if any strangers are present, and it is surprising with what
quickness and certainty he discovers, and unceremoniously
ejects them .

It is well known that our Indians keep their various
troops of horses, which are pastured in the wilds of Florida,
separate from each other, by means of dogs trained up for
the purpose. These dogs differ, however, from Cesar, in-
asmuch as he is self taught, and this when eight or nine
years of age. Bartram in his Travels relates the story of
an Indian dog who kept his master's horses together on a
wide plain, about ten miles distant from his wigwam. The
dog when hungry came home for his food, but never re-
mained there during the night. — See Bartram's Travels,
pp. 222-3.

While noticing the sagacity of the dog, I will state two
other facts, which, though they have been frequently wit-
nessed by sportsmen, are perhaps worth recording.

On a shooting party the other day in company with some
friends, we killed a rabbit, and our pointer slut, Venus,
while fetching the rabbit in her mouth, came to a dead
point at a pheasant about twenty yards distant.

My friend, J. B., informs me, that when hunting with
three dogs, it frequently happened, that when one of his
dogs pointed a bird, the second dog would point the
first, though out of scent of the bird, and the third dog, per-
haps not seeing the first, would set at the second; thus
forming a kind of telegraph of two or three hundred
yards, to the sportsman. J. G.

INSTINCT OF THE SPIDER.

The wonderful ingenuity frequently exercised by most
animals, in securing the means of sustenance, must be fa-
miliar to every observer of nature. In no class of animals
are the instincts resorted to for the purpose of obtaining
food, more surprising than in that which is considered the
lowest in the scale of animal life. For this end we often
find many insects endowed with a kind of foresight, and
apparently exercising a degree of philosophic induction,
and a knowledge of the laws of mechanics, which are not
surpassed by all the boasted powers of man. The little pit
falls constructed by the Lion-ant, and the ingenious means
used by many of our common insects to entrap their prey,
must be familiar to most of your readers. The following
instance of ingenuity and mechanical skill used by a small
House-spider in lifting the carcase of a large fly a foot or two
from the floor, may be depended upon.

Some days since a little Spider was observed under an
arm chair, running to and fro, and exhibiting marks of
great bustle and anxiety. Upon watching its proceedings
its nest was soon found under the bottom of the chair, and
the dead body of a fly, much larger and heavier than itself,
was seen lying on the carpet below. It was evidently the
intention of the Spider to raise up this heavy load and to
deposit it safely in its storehouse for future use; but how,
with its strength, could this be effected? He commenced
his tedious and singularly scientific operation by attaching
a line, or strong fibre of his web, to one of the legs of the
chair about four inches from the floor, and then fastening
the fibres to the body of the fly, he extended the line to the
opposite leg of the chair, and there fastened it about the
same height from the floor as in the first instance. As
the fly lying on the carpet was much nearer the one of the
legs of the chair than the other, the two lines which formed
an angle with the body, were of different lengths. As the
Spider now slowly moved along the longest end of the line,
the weight of the fly was thus overcome by a mechanical
advantage, and raised a little distance from the floor.
Every one knows that the lever is the most simple of all
the mechanical powers, and one to which all the others may
be referred. In the contrivance of the Spider it will be
noticed that that form of the lever which is used where the
fulcrum is at one end, ihe power at the other, and the weight
between them, the Spider, having ascertained that portion
of his lever which, when depressed, would lift his prey
to the greatest altitude, fastened it in that position, by a clue,
which reached from that part to the floor. By repeating
this same operation several times, the fly was at last safely
deposited in his nest above. I must not forget, however, to
mention that when each new lever was constructed, the
weight was carefully detached from all the fastenings below.

J. G.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

COMMUNICATION FROM SUSQUEHANNA COUNTY.
with a drawing of trout.

Dear E.,

I RECEIVED a few days ago, from Messrs. Doughty, the
four numbers which they have published of their " Cabinet
of Natural History and American Rural Sports," accompa-
nied by a letter, which is entitled to a verj' courteous an-
swer. They suppose that I could render them some assist-
ance in their work; but what time have I to write, except,
currente calamo, in the way I usually talk to you, pen in
hand? I am not acquainted, personally, with either of
those gentlemen; but I know perfectly well the style and
manner of one of them, in his beautiful landscapes, and
could point out one of his pieces among an hundred others.
I wish the editors every success which they can desire; but
how can I assist them in their present work ? To be sure,
I could tell some hunting stories for their book; but many
around you could do the same, as all our countrymen are
marksmen; yet, it is probable, that, of your citizen-shoot-
ers, the most expert at bagging woodcock and snipe, have
never shot, as I have, an elk when at his full long trot, just
as, from left to right, he crossed a small opening in the
thicket, with a rifle ball, so exactly through the heart, as to
bleed him to death before he could take twenty steps after
the trigger was drawn; and then, with the assistance of a
companion of the forest, stretched his skin on a pole, at-
tached to two forked sticks, in time to form a shelter from
a severe thunder storm, and couched myself, dry and com-
fortable, under it, while a deluge of rain fell unceasingly
throughout the ensuing night. And, perhaps, you have no
one near you, unless it may be Mr. T. R. Peale, who could
say, as I could, that he eat a slice of a buffalo, admirably
roasted, in fifteen minutes after the rifle was discharged
which killed the animal. But Mr. P. must know how ex-
peditiously hungry hunters can prepare a meal, without
thinking of Macbeths advice.

" If it were done, when 'lis done, tlien 'twere well
It were done quickly,"

which, I believe, has been quoted in the Cows Gastrono-
mique. How well Peale or Doughty could sketch the
scene! One person is kindling a fire of dry sticks and
leaves; another, having cut the skin just over the hump, is
slicing with his scalping knife, that delicate morsel so well
known to all hunters in the "far west;" while a third is
employed in fixing the pieces on slender rods, like skewers,
and sticking one end into the ground, the other being sloped
at a proper angle to the clear blaze, and almost touching the
flame. I should like to know which of your restaurateurs
could furnish a dish equal to that repast — the side of the
0 o

piece sliced away, when roasted to the depth of half an
inch, and while that was, as novel writers say, " discussed,"
a new surface was presented to the fire — the noble animal
that furnished the meal, lying invitingly by the side of the
party, his dark head with its curled hair and short horns,
presenting, like the black bull's head of Ravenswood, with
his " I bide my time;" but serving as a better omen to the
partakers of the feast. Some fastidious persons may turn
from this as an Abyssinian repast: but there is no squeam-
ishness of that kind to be found in the prairies. Ask Mr.
T. R. P. whose looks bespeak him a very gentlemanly as
well as amiable man, what he thinks of the relish of the buf-
falo hump, eaten in that way, in the western prairies. I
assure you, that it would not require the appetite of Gudgel,
the fat caterer for the Abbey, in the Hunt of Gildon. The
boar Crowdie would have been nothing to the bos ferus —
the bos ferus! why, that is the phrase of Cooper's Dr. Bat-
tius in his prairie! What an abominable caricature he has
made of that Dr. Bat! a " Vespertilio horribilis," indeed!
I am mortified and vexed at Cooper for losing so fine an op-
portunity of displaying a naturalist in all his glory. How
a botanist might have raved! How a geologist might have
ranted! — and yet, all been true to nature. Most absurd
Dr. Bat! Cooper would never have suffered you on ship-
board; or if by any means you had got there, long Tom
Coffin would have thrown j'ou overboard with as little com-
punction as he would feel at harpooning a whale.

Do you know * * * *? Perhaps not; for he endea-
vours to keep out of sight. He likes to see every thing;
but to avoid being seen himself Almost infantine in his
simplicity — simplex munditiis emphatically. Impassion-
ed only in his particular pursuit. If he met Venus, attired
by the Graces, walking in Chesnut street, he would take no
notice of her; or if, by any possible chance, he did observe
her, he would think her but so-so; yet in the seclusion of
his study — (I am almost tempted to describe his study to
you) — he can write in the fervid style of a lover, about " a
most exquisite collection of reptiles!" Ah! I wish * * * *
had sat for' his picture! Instead of the rude bistre daub
of Dr. Bat, what beautiful drawing might have been ex-
pected! What strong lights and shadows, with here and
there a demi-tint, or neutral colour, slightl}' appearing
through them, would have been thrown on the canvass by
the painter — in general, a master of his art. I wish you
knew * * * *. His plain face, and his plain garb, would
not attract your eyes. You might be in his company for a
month and take no notice of him ; and he would take none of
you, if he thought you were of the common herd — that is,
engaged only in the common business, or common amuse-
ments of life — the ignobile vulgus, as he considers them,
great as well as small; for the wealth of "Rothschild's or
the Barings" is nothing in his view, except as it might be

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

made subservient to the collection of a cabinet of zoology,
ichthyology, geology, mineralogy, &c. &c. Solomon him-
self did not behold the pleasures that distract mankind with
more contempt, when in his silly and well known fit of dis-
gust, he said, that " all was vanity." But draw out * * * *.
Ask him why acotyledonous stiped and culmiferous plants,
bivalve mollusci and chambered univalves were created be-
fore the depositions of the last of the arglllite; or why the
ncotj^ledonous and monocotyledonous plants before the
animals, and you shall hear him talk — "Good gods! how
lie will talk!" as the mad poet makes one of his heroines
say of Alexander the Great. The enthusiasm of a geologi-
cal friend of mine, with whom I have the honour some-
times to correspond, and who in his last published work
says, that "the brilliant constellation of resplendent iumi-.
naries," (alluding to certain persons whom he names, who
have written about stones and earth,) "who began at this
epoch to enlighten both subterranean hemispheres," is no-
thing to * * * * when thoroughly excited by his favourite
subject. I believe the greatest regret that ***** ever ex-
perienced was, that he could not have lived during that re-
mote state of our globe, when animals of the Saurian family,
seventy feet long, (their necks thirty feet,) swam and
sported in the vast profound. He really sighs for the days
longpast of the megalosaurus and the pleslosaurus! "What,"
said he to me one day, his eyes flashing at the thought,
"what a glorious time they must have had! Ah, there
can be nothing like it now!" And yet *' * * '* must think
that the world is rapidly growing better; for he says that
the inferior animals are all dying off as fast as they can; and
that the plastic hand of nature is occupied in preparing the
materiel for the formation of superior ones to occupy their
places; and he is as confident as of any thing at present before
his eyes, that the time will soon come, (by soon, I believe he
means only ten or twenty thousand years,) when every
thing inferior to man will have perished, and myriads of
genera, infinitely his superior, will have been created. For
my own part, I am far from being satisfied that this will be
a pleasant state for poor man to be in; for I remember when I
was a school-boy, I always objected to change from the
head of one class, and take my seat at the tail of the one next
above it. I would have made no objection to jump to the
middle of the form; but never liked the equivocal honour
of the single step. Burns appears to have been of the same
opinion of * * * *, and, like our naturalist, thought that na-
ture, having tried " her prentice hand," went on improving
her skill by practice.

I wish I were enthusiastic; for I like enthusiastic people.
The sensation must at all times be delightful. How difier-
ently do different eyes behold the same object! An Eng-
lish traveller, in his journal, while descending the Missis-
sippi, says that the alligators looked like black logs on the

water, drifting with the current; and that one day, he
took a canoe, and went off to kill one, fired at it, and when
he picked it up, found it to be a large bull-frog, weighing
nearly four pounds. What a bathos this is! I will say
nothing about Audebon's alligators — since his story of the
rattlesnake, I keep clear of Audebon; but how does one of
our own honest chroniclers and lovers of nature describe
the alligator? "Behold him rushing from the flags and
reeds. His enormous body swells. His plaited tail, bran-
dished on high, floats upon the lake. The waters, like a
cataract, descend from his opening jaws. Clouds of smoke
issue from his dilated nostrils. The earth trembles with
his thunder." This is something quite Osslanic; although
I must confess that I do not see how his tail could float on
the lake, while he was brandishing it on high.

One man shall tell you, in homely phrase, that the In-
dian on horseback was very near getting a shot at a deer;
but that the deer ran off. Another person, properly im-
bued with the sublime and beautiful, in narrating the same
thing, says, " The red warrior, whose plumed head flashes
lightning, whoops in vain. His proud, ambitious horse
strains and pants; the earth glides from under his feet; his
flowing mane dances in the wind as he comes up, full of
vain hopes: but the bounding buck views his' rapid ap-
proach, lifts aloft his antlered head, erects his white flag,
and his shrill whistle says to his fleet and free associates,
' Follow!' In a few minutes he distances his foe, turns about
and laughing says, ' How vain! Go chase meteors In the
azure plains above, or hunt butterflies in the fields about
your towns.'" I will make no comparison between this
horse and that of the poet, whose speed devoured the
ground; nor between this laughing buck and the war-horse
which cried, ha! ha! — nor will I stop to notice the tauto-
logy of his lifting aloft his head, nor "the azure plains
above," which existed in his philosophy; but I will say to
my acquaintance Cooper, as the above-mentioned buck,
or any other sensible animal might say, even without the
buck's peculiar and emphatic whistle. Do, for Heaven's
sake, my good fellow, banish the miserable Dr. Bat from
the prairie, and send him to hunt butterflies about your
towns.

But how I have wandered I I began this with the inten-
tion of sending you for "The Cabinet," a drawing by a
young lady of your acquaintance, of the particular kind of
Trout found in Silver I.,ake, and, so far as I know, to be
found in Pennsylvania only in this and another lake, about
three miles from it. I believe this species has not been de-
scribed in any work on Ichthyology. It is not among the
sixty -two varieties of Salmo, described by Shaw. Le Sieur
knew it not. But as I think that the conductors of " The
Cabinet of Rural Sports" do not desire to load their work
with names in "heathen Greek," nor care about the differ-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

ence between a malacoterj'gian and an acanthopterian; nor
between the chondropterygian and the branchrostegous, I
shall say nothing on that subject. The drawing will de-
scribe the species very exactly. You know its habitat,
and can say that this fine variety of the finest genus of fishes,
lives in a lake of pure water, where it may, at its discretion,
vary the temperature from that which is found near the
surface, affected by the sun's rays, to that at an hundred
feet depth, where, throughout the year, Fahrenheit's ther-
mometer remains at 46*^

Do you remember our letting a black bottle down with a
line to the greatest depth of the lake, in order to ascertain
the temperature there, and after bringing it up full — the
pressure of the water having forced in the cork, which we
had left in the bottle as we found it — our discussion as to
what could have given the water at the bottom its singular
taste and deep colour; and conjecturing that at the depth to
which the bottle had been sunk, there must be some pecu-
liar kind of aquatic plant — unknown, undisturbed, a treasure
for the botanist, if it could be got at — which had given to
the contents of the bottle its strange taste and hue? — and on
our taking the bottle to the house, to get others to form
their conjectures on a subject so important to science, our
being asked where we had got the bottle, and whether be-
fore letting it down, we had poured out the wine that was
in it? But to return to our Trout: Ask Dr. D. what he
would give to hook and land safely, a trout twenty-four and
a half inches long and six pounds weight. This beats yours;
the largest you caught weighed only four pounds and three
quarters, and measured twenty-three inches. Don't dis-
pute this; for the. weight and measure were all correctly
"booked down."

You know that in the outlet, or stream from the lake,
none of the lake trout were ever found; and that in the
lake we have never seen but one of the creek trout, and that
was an uncommonly large one. In other lakes, and there
are many small ones in this county, where there are none of
the lake trout, the red-spotted trout of the streams, or salmo
fontinalis, is the common and only one. That the two
may be compared, they are both shown on the paper which
is enclosed. The lake trout is longer, more slender, and
has a forked tail. You know that this trout will not rise at
a fly, like the common trout of the streams; and that it is
caught only with small fish as bait. The two kinds differ
much in size; the lake trout is seldom caught so small as
one pound weight, the creek trout seldom so large. I have
been frequently puzzled to imagine where the small lake
trout keep themselves. One of your citizens, whose ideas
of rivers were probably formed from the Delaware at Phi-
ladelphia, when he saw the Susquehanna at Wilkesbarre, ex-
pressed his surprise that a river could be so little. From
the description given to me of the trout in the lakes north

of this, in the states of New York, Vermont, &c., I think
they are of the same species as those in Silver Lake; but I
believe the latter to be their southern limit.

I have not observed the colours of the lake trout to vary
at different times of the year; but the colours of the male of
the red-spotted trout change very much, and are deeper and
much more brilliant at one season than at another; like the
males of most kinds of birds, whose feathers become gayer
at the time of courtship; so Ihat the honeymoon garb of
some of them, makes them look like different birds from
what they are the rest of the year. So it is with the creek
trout, of which the drawing represents one in his Septem-
ber dress, his back of a rich olive, lighter on the sides,
sprinkled with brilliant spots of vermilion, and his fins
tinted with vermilion, a rich black, and a pure white. You
have seen a dying dolphin — not the dolphin of the ichthy-
ologists— the porpus or delphinus tergo recurvo, which the
ancient writers say was so fond of music, and (fide majus!)
carried Arion when he was cast, like a bait, upon the waters;
but the dolphin of the sailors, the coryphcena hipjmris —
and therefore you know how suddenly and how surprisingly
the colours of a fish may be changed.

Old Walton says, that "in England trout spawn about
October or November; but in some rivers a little sooner or
later." Their spawning time here is much the same. How
I admired old Walton when I was a boy ! I believe I have
read every thing which has been published on the " dis-
portes in fishynge," from his celebrated work down to the
"New, Plain, and Complete Treatise on the Art of Ang-
ling, by T. F. Salter, Esq.," adorned with a plate of the
author, but terribly out of costume for a fisherman — publish-
ed in 1825, which you sent me about two years ago. I
have even read the Nautical Idylls of Hugo Grotius, and
the Piscatory Eclogues of Sannazarius, in hopes of glean-
ing something from them, which might be useful to the
"brothers of the angle:" but the latter was much like a ce-
lebrated breeder of cattle sending for Miss Edgeworth's
Treatise on Irish Bulls.

I think I was about twelve years of age, when I first read
old Isaac's treatise, " being," as he says in his title page,
"a Discourse of Fish and Fishing, not unworthy the peru-
sal of most Anglers;" and I have never forgot some stanzas
of his Angler's song, particularly the one:

'■ When I the thoughllesss trout esp
Devour my worm, or simple fly,
How poor, how small a thing I find
Can captivate a greedy mind !
But when none bite, the wise I prai:
Whom hope of profit ne'er betrays.

That is, I admired the poetic fisherman; but fear I never
learnt any thing from the fishing moralist; and when the

148

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

trout did not bite, I, as a boy might be supposed to do, at-
tributed the faihire, not to the philosophy of the fish, but to
their want of appetite.

I love fly-fishing; because it is fishing divested of much of
its barbarity. I mean, of course, the ar^^j^CiV// fly. It is all
very fair to catch a voracious fish, while he is endeavouring to
gobble up what he supposes a nice little fly. I always disliked
to use live bait, and never did when I could avoid it. Walton
had many kind feelings, and in instructing you how to impale
a frog in such a manner as to keep the poor devil alive as long
as possible, he pathetically urges it upon j'ou to "use him as
though you loved himf for which affectionate admonition
he has been sneered at most unmercifully by half a dozen peo-
ple, who although they may be very accomplished writers,
are no fishermen. But in my early fishing daj-s, I learnt more
humanity from Thomson than from any other person, and
for a long time, whenever I thought of going a fishing, I
had humming in my ears:

'* But let not on your hook the tortured worm,
Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds j
Which by rapacious hunger swalluwed deep,
Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast
Of the weak, harmless, uncomplaining wretch.
Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand."

These lines saved many a worm. It was Thomson, I
think, who, some lady said, showed plainly in his works,
that he was a great fisherman and a great swimmer; but
who, notwithstanding the lady's sagacity, and I must say
that she drew a very fair inference, judging from his works,
never took a fishing rod in his hand, and never went into
the water. Thomson's worm puts me in mind of a time
when I was trying to entice into my pouch some Trout from
the Choconut creek — You have been there with me — They
were shy, and I thought I would try some other bait, and
searching around I found a worm. My head had been
running on mixed mathematics, and the doctrine of
chances — a foolish thing to puzzle one's self with when fish-
ing. As I sauntered along, I had been proving to myself
that the probability of two subsequent events, both happen-
ing, is equal to the product of the probability of the hap-
pening of those events, considered separately. Q. E. D.
And had demonstrated the thing in my head most scholas-
tically, when I said to myself, — Here is this poor worm.
What was the chance that in the immense extent of this
globe, it should be here, in this spot; and in the great
lapse of time since the formation of worms, that this very
one should have existed at all; and if existing, been here,
at this point of time; and that I — the individual / —
should be here now, of all times; and be here in this spot
in all space, for the purpose of catching a Trout. That be-
ing here, at this time, of all times past, present, and to

come, / should have found this worm, of all the worms of
the earth, and should put it on this hook, among the trillions
of hooks, to catch a particular trout, in this particular creek,
of all the creeks in the world. And yet that chance has
become a certainty! Prove me that, Mr. De Moivre!
Poh! poh! 'tis all a folly, and it shan't happen; and you
shan't be put upon this hook, nor be eaten by that trout,
poor little worm. There, go off with you — wriggle away
as fast as you can, and thank the doctrine of chances for
your escape; and I'll bother myself no more with them: I
dare say it was they that made me lose that last trout.

What fishing may be compared with fly-fishing for trout,
in a fine, clear, spring brook, overarched by spreading
beeches, birches, and elms! — the day so warm as to give a
pleasing consciousness of the protection derived from the
majestic trees — the water so clear as to tempt you from the
bank to walk into the stream, that runs dancing over stones
and pebbles, or whirling around rocks, as if for the purpose
of forming lurking places for the trout. You throw your
fly, and they see it in its light descent, and dart at it; but
one, more alert than his fellows, springs out of the water
and seizes it, before it reaches the surface! I am sure, my
dear E., that you will always recollect that fishing when
we caught thirty-six dozens, (or was it it thirty-five and a
half? I always said that; but you contended that it was
thirty-six,) and the boy who attended with the horse and
panniers, could scarcely put them away, wrapped up in the
fresh green leaves, as fast as we caught them. Do you re-
collect the pool, where I stood over my knees in the water,
and from one place, caught my fishing-l)ag full three times
over — the boy being called that often to empty it ? When,
as the fly was descending, we could see trout dashing from
difierent parts of the clear water, to the point where it was
expected to fall, and the surface would be thrown into
ebullition by the struggle among them to see who should
be the fortunate fellow to seize it? Do you recollect what
a delicious hmch we made that day, about twelve o'clock,
you may call it a dejeuner a-la-fourchette, if you please
— having been walking in the stream, the forest all the
way overhead, from sunrise — how we sat on the bank, sub
tegmine fagi, with our feet in the water, and how often you
exclaimed, " How delightful this is!" Do you remember
how the pellucid stream put us in mind of Professor
Carlyle's translation from the Arabic poet, in lines which
might be supposed to describe the limpid rivulet before

" So smooth the pebbles on its shore.

That not a maid can thither stray,
But counts her strings of jewels o'er,

And thinks the pearls have slipped away."

Do you recollect, as we lay thrown back upon the grass,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

149

my story of my friend H. D. ? the best of all men, although
not the best of fishermen, who was out with me on the same
stream, and near the same place, one time when I caught
twenty dozens, and he two fish less than one dozen; that
wondering what had become of him, I sat down on the
bank to wait for him, and at length saw him coming to-
wards me, very slowly, walking in the middle of the
stream, his spectacles — near-sighted — enabling him to
choose the deepest parts of it, his line rolled round his rod,
and his rod on his shoulder. He would have passed with-
out seeing me, and when I said, " Why H., what are you
about? Are you tired of fishing?" "Oh, no!" he re-
plied, "not at all — I am delighted with it: but this is the
best part of it. I don't care about the Trout: you can catch
enough for both of us."

Do you remember another story I told you, of another
person, who accompanied me to catch Trout ? After miss-
ing him for a long time, I heard him call at the full extent
of his lungs, "I have caught one! I have caught one!!" —
and looking up the stream, I saw him holding his rod out in
triumph, with something dangling at the end of his line.
Observing my attention, he cried, " What shall I do with
it ? Shall I kill it before I take it ofi"?" And when, in his
exultation, he came down to me with it, holding his rod at
arm's length before him, I found his captive to be a misera-
ble chub, about as long as his finger! A Dr. Battius of a
fish! — Plague on Dr. Bat! having spoken of him, I can't
get rid of the vagabond. You know we never caught chub
— never sufiered them to bite.

Do you remember what a supper we made on Trout, that
night, at our bivouac ? What exquisite sauce our day's
fishing had provided for us? How delightfully our cook
dressed the fish? How many you eat? — we always chose
the small ones, not more than six or seven inches long —
How thirsty you were when you awoke, sometime after
midnight, from your bed of fragrant boughs? How horror-
struck, when, half-dead with thirst, you found that there
was no water in the tent? How your impatience would
not let you wait until our cook could be roused to bring
water from the spring? How you went yourself, in the
dark, over logs and through bushes, down to the stream?
And how you kept me awake the rest of the night, with
your groans of tribulation and repentance at having drank so
much cold water? And do you also remember, that, after-
wards, during your rambles in Europe, when visiting the
classic ground of Petrarch, you wrote to me that much as
the Trout of Vaucluse were famed, you could say — for you
had just had one for your dinner — that they were not to be
compared, by a thousand degrees, to the Trout of Silver
Lake?

And there you are, in Philadelphia, you who can recol-
lect all this, plodding away at your profession! Well, I
Pp

won't check you. Go on, and prosper! Only consider it
your duty, during the warm weather of every year, to come
up to our hills, and taking a little " idle time not idly
spent," lay in a stock of health by breathing our pure air,
and bathing in our clear streams. R. H. R.

AN INQUIRY RESPECTING THE TRUE
NATURE OF INSTINCT.

(Concluded from page 101.)

If brutes then are incapable of viewing moral qualities
objectivel}', and reflecting upon them as such, they must ne-
cessarily be destitute of that perception of moral differ-
ences, with which the power of exercising their moral saga-
city must be connected; moral sagacity, therefore, cannot
exist at all in them otherwise than apparently ; and this
conclusion is exactly what a candid estimation of brute
powers seems to lead to; namely, that they are actuated by
moral energies of which they are not conscious, and which
therefore are not properly theirs; and that these energies
operating upon their proper conscious perceptions — which
may be termed natural perceptions, to distinguish them
from those which are moral and intellectual, — furnish
the motive principles which serve to induce them to apply
their conscious powers in a certain manner; — thus produc-
ing what is apparently moral in them, without their being
conscious that it is so, and which thus is really not so as to
them. The seat of these moral energies within them, there-
fore, appears to be a secret region in their minds, above
the seat of their natural perceptions; the latter serving as a
plane, as it were, for the operation of such superior powers,
which, under the Divine control, dispose them to the fulfil-
ment of the ends they are designed for.

In this manner it is possible to account for those surpris-
ing appearances of moral excellence in the actions of ani-
mals, which we observe them to display, and which are so
totally above their proper conscious powers: — a moral excel-
lence, which, as we have seen, appears in many instances
more perfect and undeviating than that of the generality of
human agents, and which, therefore, cannot be the result of
any conscious freedom in the creature, unless we suppose
them, in particular instances, raised higher in moral per-
ception and determination than even man himself. It is
by confounding the limited freedom of brute action with
the superior energies, which, unknown to them, actuate
their conscious powers, that their nature has been so far mis-
taken, as to be considered the same in kind with, and only
differing in degree from, that of man.

Herein then consists one proper limitation of the brute
mind : — although apparently moral, it is in reality not so, but
merely natural, and is operated upon by moral causes above

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

its own consciousness, and which lead it to the perform-
ance of actions which, in effect, are moral, as considered
objectively by the human mind.

From a comparison of this view of the nature of the con-
sciousness of animals with that of man, the latter agent alone
appears capable of considering and appreciating the nature
of his own actions, and those of the inferior creation ; he
alone is conscious of moral, intellectual, and scientific ener-
gies and perceptions; and being, in consequence of this
moral and intellectual faculty, at liberty to estimate and
direct all lower operations, is in moral and intellectual, as
well as in natural freedom; whereas the brute is in the latter
only. From the most dispassionate survey of brute nature,
it does not appear that the creatures have any reflex percep-
tion respecting the qualities of their own discernment, or of
the moral energies, or scientific powers, which they dis-
play: on the contrary, it appears sufficiently evident that
\vith respect to any perception of their own qualities in the
abstract, tlie wisest is no wiser than the dullest, and the dull-
est is equally wise with the wisest; the most moral as little
so as the least, and vice versa: the Peacock has no more
perception of the pride he is famed for, than the Horse or
the Lion have of their generosity; than the Fox has of his
cunning, or the Tiger of his cruelty.

From these considerations, there is in appearance the
strongest probability that the moral world, good and evil,
may be in action upon, although above the stream of, the
natural world, or above the consciousness of lower exist-
ence; and that the former may thus operate upon the latter
as a cause upon an effect. But be this as it may, it appears
certain, that moral qualities being objective in the mind of
man, he alone is possessed of moral consciousness and moral
freedom of action; thus is an inhabitant of both the moral
and the natural world ; and that as moral qualities do not
become objective in the minds of brutes, or as the moral
actions which they perform are not reflected upon by them,
as such, nor are, in any respect the effects of moral choice
and discrimination on their parts, they are therefore not
possessed of moral consciousness, nor of moral freedom of
action; and thus are not inhabitants of the moral world, —
although acted upon by it, — but of the natural world only.

Having thus concluded my preliminary remarks on the
moral qualities exhibited by brutes, I proceed to consider
those which are of an intellectual and scientific character, —
to the illustration, consequently, of the second proposition
given in a former page. As moral perception appears to be
excluded from the conscious sphere of the brute mind, so
neither do brutes appear to possess any reflex power of con-
templating the principles of intelligence and science by
which, or rather according to which, they act. They
appear to possess no power of taking an intellectual recog-
nizance of this intelligence and science so remarkable in

many of their actions; and may be considered as possessing
only an inferior, or what may be called animal mind, capa-
ble of being influenced or directed, but incapable of viewing
or appreciating the powers or energies which thus influ-
ence and direct it in the most essential of its actions. Man
is endowed with the love of science; he, therefore, expe-
riences a delight proper to his nature as a scientific agent,
from the contemplation of a means which is instrumental in
the accomplishment of an end: he is also gifted with the
love of usefulness, and therefore receives a moral delight
from the accomplishment of the end itself, which science is
the means of effecting. Not so the brute : — the architectural
contrivance and discrimination of the Beaver, which is ne-
vertheless much inferior to that of various species of Ter-
mites;— the surprising intelligence of the Hive-bee and
others of the Apes; — the ingenious mechanism of the Spi-
der:— all these determinations of instinct, which, when
viewed in connexion with the animals in whom they are
displayed, are so astonishing, form no objects of contem-
plation to them, while to the human mind they are the sub-
jects of intellectual perception and reflection, advancing in
many instances even to sublimity.

When we observe, in the insect world, in beings appa-
rently the most insignificant, an intelligence the most per-
fect, presenting the most wonderful foresight, provision,
and design, we are led at once to the recognition of this
intelligence, as a principle which cannot, with any degree
of propriety, be attributed to the creature, as properly its
own; and we perceive, that in these instances, thus to attri-
bute it to those humble animals, would be to raise them to
an eminence far above the most sagacious quadrupeds.

Innumerable are the instances among insects, in which
the agency of intellectual and scientific powers, altogether
superior to the proper consciousness of the creatures is to
be observed; and it may be remarked, that as we descend
in the scale of sentient being, this intellectual agency ap-
pears to develop itself in a manner proportionably more
wonderful ; so as to afford the most substantial evidences of
the reality of its existence and operation.

That Bees exercise the principles of a science, of which
they are wholly unconscious, is beautifully exemplified in
the construction of their cells; the general form of these, it
is well known, is that which includes a greater space than
any other which could be given to them, without leaving a
void space between the contiguous cells; each of which,
from this circumstance, supplies one of the walls of each of
the six cells which surround it. But " it is to be remarked,
that though the general form of the cells is hexagonal, that
of those first begun is pentagonal, the side next the top of
the hive, and by which the comb is attached, being much
broader than the rest; whence the comb is more strongly
united to the hive than if these cells were of the ordinary

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

shape. It of course follows, that the base of these cells, in-
stead of being formed like those of the hexagonal cells of
three rhomboids, consists of one rhomboid and two trape-
ziums.

Here then are effects both of geometry and philosophy, al-
though the creatures are neither geometricians nor philoso-
phers. They indeed act precisely as geometricians and
philosophers would act, were they to undertake construct-
ing the same thing with the same end in view. Neither
can we conceive them in their process of collecting honey
and storing it up, as actuated by any reflection upon the na-
ture of the act; or as contemplating a season of winter when
their labours must cease. Actuated by an impressing influ-
ence to gather and store up, and led to the immediate
means and to the best mode of applying them, their con-
sciousness, although it reaches to and embraces the whole
of the sensible detail of the operations to which it is direct-
ed, and includes a gratification resulting from the exercise
of its inferior powers, reaches no further: their conscious
world consists of the sensible images of flowers, and fields,
and combs, and honey; in these, as to themselves, "they
live, and move, and have their being:" — they advance no
higher; — they know nothing of a regular hexagon, separate
from a honey comb, nor can they reason upon the conse-
quences of their actions.

Reason, intelligence, and science, therefore, cannot, as
is asserted by some philosophers, be the result of instinct;
or the Bee would certainly be a reasoner: it must be evident,
on the contrary, that its consciousness can reach only to the
immediate inferior acts themselves, to which it is directed
by a potent energy operating upon its nature.

Exercising in voluntar}' consciousness the inferior powers
just mentioned, the animal is led and informed by an influ-
ence, impressing its conscious mind, and producing the
effects of the most perfect science; thereby accomplishing
those objects which constitute the ends of its existence. No
effect can be produced without a cause, and the Bee is
either a scientific and intellectual being, or it is the instru-
ment of an agency that is of such a quality, operating in and
upon its animal mind, in a sphere above its proper percep-
tion.

Other less familiar, but not less wonderful instances of
the mechanical and even philosophical powers exerted in
the actions of insects, are exhibited to us in whatever quar-
ter we contemplate their economy. The larva of a small
Moth, (P. Tinea serratella L.) constructs a little cylin-
drical tower for its residence upon the surface of a leaf, and
uses the utmost ingenuity to fix and retain it in a position
perpendicular to the site, by attaching silken threads from a
protuberance at its base to the surrounding surface; and
when the stability of its habitation is threatened by exter-
nal violence, it produces a vacuum by drawing itself up to

the summit of its tower, which at other times it completely
fills; " and thus as effectually fastens it to the leaf as if an
air-pump had been employed;" and in order to preserve
the power of forming this vacuum, the insect never eats
through the lower epidermis, or inferior surface of his es-
planade on the leaf: — yet so insignificant is this little crea-
ture as to its bulk, that its castle appears like a small spine
on the leaf to which it is attached.

Equally curious is the history of insect architecture in
other instances, as in the Aquatic Spider, (Aranea aqua-
tica,) whose habitation " is built in the midst of water, and
formed, in fact, of air!" This creature spins a frame-work
for her intended chamber, which she attaches to the leaves
of aquatic plants growing at the bottom of the water, and
having spread over the threads which form this frame-work
a transparent varnish resembling liquid glass, and very elas-
tic, she next spreads over her belly a pellicle of the same
material, and ascending to the surface of the water, by some
means not fully ascertained, transfers a bubble of air be-
neath this pellicle, and then descending to her structure,
discharges the bubble into it, until, by successively repeat-
ing the operation, she effects the expansion of her aerial
sub-aquatic tenement to its proper habitable dimensions.

The entire history, indeed, of the various species of the
Spider and of the Bee teems with wonders, and supplies an
ample stock of evidence in support of the proposition, that
they are guided and instructed by an intelligence which
they do not themselves perceive. But as their history may
be seen at large in the excellent work on Entomology from
which our illustrations from that science have hitherto been
derived, I forbear to swell the catalogue; and shall con-
clude this branch of the subject, by adducing from the same
work, two remarkable instances, exemplifying, in the larva
of a species of Myrmeleon, and in the Termes fatalis,
the most extraordinary and surprising operations, totally
incompatible with any conscious scientific ability of the
creatures; appending to these some remarks on the infe-
rences drawn by Messrs. Kirby and Spence, from a singu-
lar case of instinct, adapted to contingency in the Humble-
Bee.

The first-mentioned insect, whose length, when full-
grown, is about half an inch, and whose shape slightly resem-
bles that of the Wood-louse, is an inhabitant of the south
of Europe, feeds upon the juices of Ants and other insects,
digging a conical hole or pit for the purpose of entrapping
them. This it effects by tracing a circle in a soil of loose,
dry sand, and excavating with surprising dexterity, a furrow
within the included space; loading its flat head by means
of one leg, with a portion of the sand, which it jerks adroitly
over the boundary; and working backwards till it arrives
at the part of the circle whence it started; it then traces a
new circle and proceeds with the work, constantly throw-

152

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

ing the sand from the interior, till it completes its pit to the
bottom or apex. It is indefatigable in its labours, and re-
lieves the leg which it uses as a shovel to load its head, by-
working through each successive circle in an opposite direc-
tion, and thus exercising each leg alternately, always work-
ing with the one next the centre. When it meets with
stones too large to be jerked from its head, it contrives to
get them poised upon its back, and if in ascending the sides
of the pit, the stone should be again precipitated, in renew-
ing its attempt to carry it up, it avails itself of the channel
made by the falling stone, as a road, against the sides of
which it can support and direct its load in the ascent. Sta-
tioned at the bottom of its little pit, if an Ant should stum-
ble over the margin it hastens the descent and capture of its
prey by the fall of little loads of sand which it jerks in
quick succession upon the escaping insect. All this how-
ever is surpassed by the Termites, whose nests are formed
of clay, and are as large as huts, being generally of no less
a height than twelve feet, and broad in proportion, and
which when in clusters resemble an Indian village, and may
at a distance be mistaken for one. The interior of one of
these structures presents a most surprising skill and intelli-
gence, both in the construction and appropriation. The
apartments, avenues, and communications, consisting of
vaulted chambers, built of various materials, galleries con-
structed spirally for the facility of ascent, arches or bridges
of communication, said to be projected, not excavated, are
appropriated for royal and other apartments, nurseries,
magazines, &c. No one can surely contemplate the gigan-
tic, and at the same time scientific, operations of these won-
derful creatures, — which j^et are scarcely the fourth of an
inch in length, — without feeling struck by the manifesta-
tion of an agency far above the discrimination of the sub-
jects in whose actions it is presented, and whose economy
is justly characterized as "a miracle of nature."

But the operations of an intelligence in the conduct of the
insect race, superior to the conscious faculties of the creature,
is made still more manifest by its appearance not only in
what has been called blind instinct, — which term itself,
rightly interpreted, must imply the existence of controlling
influences, — but also by its development in strictly contin-
gent acts, affording evidences of the same intelligent de-
sign and adaptation, in agreement with what such particular
circumstances require. That such do really occur, the fol-
lowing extract will satisfactorily demonstrate:

" In the course of his ingenious and numerous experi-
ments, M. Huber put under a bell glass about a dozen Hum-
ble-Bees, without any store of wax, along with a comb of about
ten silken cocoons, so unequal in height, that it was impossi-
ble the mass should stand firmly. Its unsteadiness disquieted
the Humble-Bees extremely. Their afiection for their
young led them to mount upon the cocoons, for the sake of

imparting warmth to the inclosed little ones, but, in attempt-
ing this, the comb tottered so violently, that the scheme
was almost impracticable. To remedy this inconvenience,
and to make the comb steady, they had recourse to a most
ingenious expedient. Two or three bees got upon the
comb, stretched themselves over its edge, and with their
heads downwards, fixed their fore-feet on the table upon
which it stood, whilst with their hind-feet they kept it from
falling. In this constrained and painful posture, fresh bees
relieving their comrades when weary, did these affectionate
little insects support the comb for nearly three days! at the
end of this period they had prepared a sufiiciency of wax,
with which they built pillars that kept it in a firm position:
but by some accident afterwards these got displaced, when
they had again recourse to their former manoeuvre for sup-
plying their place, and this operation they perseveringly
continued, until M. Huber, pitying their hard case, relieved
them by fixing the object of their attention firmly on the
table.

"It is impossible," the authors remark, "not to be
struck with the reflection that this most singular fact is in-
explicable on the supposition that insects are impelled to
their operations by a blind instinct alone. How could mere
machines have thus provided for a case, which in a state of
nature has probably never occurred to ten nests of Humble-
Bees since the creation? If, in this instance, these little
animals were not guided by a process of reasoning, what is
the distinction between reason and instinct? How could
the most profound architect have better adapted the means
to the end — how more dexterously shored up a tottering
edifice, until his beams and his props were in readiness ?"

A process of reasoning, or intellectual deduction, is here
certainly incontrovertible, but this, at the same time, is so
much beyond the nature and condition of the creature, that
we cannot suppose it performed within its proper conscious-
ness. What, then, in this case, and if in this case, in
every other, is the distinction between reason and instinct?
It is, I apprehend, this: reason is a deduction of intellect
within the conscious perception of the subject whose actions
exhibit it: — instinct is a similar deduction of intellect, not
within, but above the conscious perception of the subject
whose actions exhibit it. For a consciousness of possess-
ing and exercising such intelligence cannot exi.st without
elevating its subject to that intellectual freedom which is
the proper and distinguishing characteristic of human ra-
tionality.

If we ascend to the higher classes of animals, fewer in-
stances occur of those operations which include in them
principles of science; and the actions of this character
which are to be observed among such animals, do not appear
to arise from a conscious free principle, but to be the result
of a dictation, similar to that by which the operations of the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

insect world are carried on; as in the case of the Beaver in
the construction of his dam and hut. In the higher orders of
animals, indeed, we lose sight of the more astonishing dis-
plays of science which abound in some of the inferior tribes,
as in insects; — as if to mark that such science is not the con-
scious property of the brute nature. Thus the Mammalia
appear to be more particularly the subjects, in which a mo-
ral intelligence is operative, and thus are capable of being
rendered more immediately instrumental to the moral uses
to which many species of them are directed by man: where-
as the insect tribes appear to be more particularly the sub-
jects in which a scientific intelligence is displayed; I say
more particularly, because the agencies in all cases are evi-
dently both moral and scientific, although operating diverse-
ly, so as to produce the appearance of such distinction ; for in
every case the influent agency must be moral as regarding
the end; and scientific as regarding the means; and in the
larger quadrupeds, the efiects of moral intelligence are as
finely illustrated by the Horse, the Elephant, the Camel,
and the Dog, as are the effects of scientific intelligence in
the operations of insects. In every case in which science
is displayed in the actions of quadrupeds, it is evidently, as
respects the creatures, as much above any conscious percep-
tion of their own, as it is in the case of insects: — in this
respect the Bee and the Beaver are both on a par, and it
would be unreasonable to concede a perception of science to
the latter, and at the same time to deny it to the former.
Neither does the Dog possess any advantage over the Bee
or the Beaver in this respect; the instinctive science he
displays in the chase is evidently not objectively reflected
upon by him, which is manifest from the fact that his ordi-
nary nature is not at all elevated or refined by any percep-
tions or conclusions which would result from the view of
his acute instinctive discriminations. The Dog, as we all
know, is a keen and clever sportsman; but if, in this case,
his discriminations were the result of reflection, — if he had
the power of consciously reflecting in himself, at the time of
the chase, on what was proper to be done, and on the best
means of procedure; and if this power were not derived
from some hidden principle of impulse, acting upon his con-
scious nature, he would have the power to reflect, subse-
quently, both upon the means and the action, the whole of
which would thus be made the object of his proper reflec-
tion. He would thus be able to take an intellectual view
of the chase, and of his own peculiar capabilities; the door
of analysis would be opened to him; and, contrary to the
fact, he would thus advance at least one step in the scale of
intellect. If, however, we admit, — what seems to accord
alike with reason and with fact — that his conscious mind
must have been, in this exercise of his instinct, impressed
by an agency above it, no such consequence as that alluded
to would follow, from the most wonderful display of adroit-

Qq

ness and discrimination. The impression ceasing or subsid-
ing with the requirement, would leave him precisely where
it found him; and accordingly we find, that the Hound, who
displays the most consummate skill and manoeuvre in the
chase, remains stationary, and does not ascend into the scale
of intellectual consciousness; nor can he, as to intellectual
superiority, be ranked above the contemned and undignified
Cur.

The incongruities in the actions of brutes, afford again
striking proofs, that they act under the operation of an in-
telligence superior to the plane of their proper perception;
and which, if we consider it as affecting them through a
limited channel, by particular impressions on their con-
scious faculties, will account for the wonderful operations
performed by many of them, who are not in any wise re-
markable for their general sagacity ; whose traits of perfec-
tion are circumscribed by an exceedingly narrow limit, and
which are yet, within that limit, truly astonishing. " With
what caution does the hen provide herself a nest in places
unfrequented and free from noise and disturbance ? When
she has laid her eggs in such a manner that she can cover
them, what care does she take in turning them fre-
quently that all parts may partake of the vital warmth ?
When she leaves them to provide for her necessary suste-
nance, how punctually does she return before they have
time to cool, and become incapable of producing an animal r
In the summer j'ou see her giving herself greater freedoms,
and quitting her care for above two hours together, but in
winter, when the rigour of the season would chill the prin-
ciples of life and destro}' the j'oung one, she grows more
assiduous in her attendance, and stays away but half the
time. When the birth approaches, with how much nicety
and attention does she help the chick to break its prison;
not to notice her covering it from the injuries of the wea-
ther, providing it proper nourishment, and teaching it to
help itself; nor to mention her forsaking the nest, if, after
the usual time of reckoning, the j'oung one does not make
its appearance. A chemical operation could not be followed
with greater art and diligence than is seen in the hatching
of a chick; though there are many other birds that show an
infinitely greater sagacity in all the fore-mentioned particu-
lars.

" But, at the same time, the hen that has all this seeming
ingenuity, (which is indeed absolutelj^ necessary for the
propagation of the species,) considered in other respects, is
without the least glimmerings of thought or common sense.
She mistakes a piece of chalk for an egg, and sits upon it in
the same manner: she is insensible of any increase or dimi-
nution in the number of those she lays: she does not distin-
guish between her own and those of another species, and
when the birth appears, of never so different a bird, will
cherish it for her own. In all these circumstances, which

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

do not carry an immediate regard to the subsistence of her-
self or her species, she is a very idiot."

A similar incongruity, incompatible with the rational ex-
ercise of the intellectual principle of foresight, upon the
supposition of that principle being proper to the mind of
the creature, is exhibited by the Hamster Rat, {3Iiis Cri-
cetus.) The principle of foresight, as exhibited in this
animal, who lays up food, " not for his winter's support,
(since during that season he always sleeps,) but for his nour-
ishment previously to the commencement, and after the
conclusion of his state of torpidity," cannot be considered
as a principle of which he has any consciousness whatever;
for had the Hamster a conscious perception and apprecia-
tion of such a principle, he would be led to apply it in other
cases, as well as in that of storing up food for the preserva-
tion of his life; but as if to demonstrate the irrationality of
the animal, he attacks, with blind fury, the largest quadru-
ped that comes in his way; instead of seeking safety by
flight, like most other creatures in whom the principle of
caution is observable; and which a rational foresight would
necessarily impel him to, when menaced with destruction
by a gigantic adversary.

The Arctic Fox, as Crantz relates, enters the water and
splashes with his foot to bring up the fish, which he then
seizes; and the Greenland women, profiting by his example,
employ with success a similar artifice: the Fox surely does
not reflect either upon the act or the means, as the women
must do; in him the act is evidently spontaneous, and does
not flo^v from any thought, of which analysis is predicable.

The limitation of the brute mind, and its exclusion from
intellectual consciousness, or proper reflection, is also appa-
rent in the inutility of speech to such animals as can be
taught to articulate, in effecting any thing beyond imitation;
evincing, clearly, the incommunicability of the power of
reason to the creature; — while, at the same time, it illus-
trates the power of the influence of the human mind, as
exerted upon the mind and faculties of the animal, and ascer-
tains the limit of that influence. There can be no reason-
ing without reflection, no reflection without intellectual
freedom: if this reflection and this freedom were the attri-
bute of the brute, — how, I ask, should we deny him a share
of human consciousness. Does this consciousness, in kind,
exist in the brute mind ? and are they endowed with it for
no other purpose than to produce, — what it could not fail to
produce, — the sensible perception of their own individual
degradation ? — or, would it not follow, upon such an admis-
sion of the rationality of brutes, that we should be very
likely to see the fable realized of the Mice holding a coun-
cil to " bell the Cat," and absolutely devising a successful
stratagem to effect their purpose? Is there, upon such a
principle, any ground for asserting, that, with proper care,
we might not be able to rear a few four-legged philosophers

and mechanicians, of at least tolerable erudition and science?
or rather, the principle being admitted, can it be safely de-
nied that they do not already exist?

I am aware that there is a class of actions which are, in
great measure, modifications arising from the influence of
education and habit, and which, perhaps, appear more
strongly than any others, to favour the supposition that
brutes are possessed, in some degree, of the power of analy-
sis and reason; but as this appearance is of so prominent a
character, and is so closely allied to their specific mental
capabilities, I purpose to enter upon a more particular con-
sideration of it in the course of these essays. I shall only
remark, for the present, that the natures of brutes no doubt
evince a strong susceptibility of being influenced, within cer-
tain limits, by the human mind; but this susceptibility of
subservience to human intelligence, so far from militating
against the views here offered of the proper nature of brutes,
appears rather to strengthen and confirm the position, that
they are affected by influences above their own conscious-
ness; and that the wisdom of the Creator has so constituted
their natures, as to be affected by the influence of mediate
agencies, in order to the production of the various ends which
it may be necessary should be accomplished through their
instrumentality.

I need scarcely remark that the general views attempted
to be established by the foregoing observations, cannot be
adequately illustrated in the limited survey of a Preliminary
Essay: — their further development must rest upon a more
extended examination of the particular functions, which,
taken collectively, form the brute economy. Certain it is,
however, that the liberty and freedom of the human mind
forms the basis of its rationality and intelligence, which is
no doubt aided by an influent light and perception received
from the source of all Being; the consciousness of which
influence connects him more immediately with that Source;
— and that the absence of freedom in the brute mind, in
this respect forms the basis of its irrationality, and demon-
strates that the influent light and perception which gives
birth to the surprising actions we see animals perform, forms
no part of their conscious nature. Thus brutes are evidently
connected with the Author of Creation, though in a manner
more remote than man.

The freedom of man consists in his being able to take a
survey from an eminence, as it were, of the various discri-
minations which he himself efiects, and which, by various
agencies, are effected throughout lower existence; hence,
although man possesses a lower or animal mind, similar, as
considered distinctly and by itself, to the brute mind, and
which inferior mind or region he looks down upon from an
intellectual eminence, it is evident that his consciousness
respecting even the things of tliis inferior region is illumin-
ed, by the glorious light of intellect and rationality which

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

is proper to him. The brute, on the contrary, does not
survey from an elevated sphere, the discriminations which
he himself effects, nor those of nature which are in opera-
tion around him; although these discriminations, as effected
by himself and by the other subjects of creation around
him, are calculated to lead him on in the road of analysis,
did he but possess the proper faculty. May we not then
infer, — That intellectual and scientific qualities do not be-
come objective in the minds of brutes; or, that the intel-
lectual and scientific actions which they perform, are not
1 upon or contrived by them as such; thus that they
no intellectual or scientific consciousness, and, con-
sequently, that no intellectual or scientific design can be at-
tributed to them; and, therefore, that so much of intellectual
or scientific design as appears conspicuous in their actions,
must be the effect of intellectual and scientific powers or
energies, acting upon them in a region of their minds above
the sphere of their proper consciousness?

Zoological Journal.

MIGRATION OF BIRDS.

The migration of birds is a singular provision of nature,
and though the rapidity of their motion makes their passage
across the widest seas a matter easily accomplished, yet the
instinct which leads them to change their latitude with the
seasons is worthy of notice; the more so, that it is also one
of the resources of man in a state of nature. The same
necessity, that of finding food, seems to actuate both. The
Siberian hordes follow the course of vegetation, moving to
the south as the winter cold nips the vegetation of the north;
and to the north, as the summer heat parches it in the south.
The Esquimaux, on the other hand, move to the south in
summer, and support themselves by hunting, while they
return northward to the sea in winter, to feed upon seals
and other breathing natives of the deep, which must keep
open holes in the ice to preserve their existence. In like
manner, the migratory flights of birds appear to be chiefly
influenced by the necessity of seeking food, though partly
also by the finding of proper places for rearing their
young.

From the nature of their powers of motion, the seasonal
migrations of quadrupeds are necessarily limited. If they
be inhabitants of islands, they cannot pass over the sea;
and upon continents, large rivers, mountains, or desarts,
limit their range. In Britain, the stag and the roe, which
are found only in the uplands in the warm season, find
their way to the warm and sheltered plains in the winter;
and on more extensive lands some of the quadrupeds take
longer journies; but they are all comparatively limited,
and extensive migrations are performed only by those ani-
mals that can make their pathvs^ays in the sea or the air.

The seal, which, during summer, is found in such numbers
on the dreary shores of Greenland, Jan Maj-en, and Spitz-
bergen, finds its way to Iceland in the winter; but its
migration is limited; and numbers still remain in the most
northern regions that have been visited. The inhabitants
of the water, have, indeed, less necessity for seasonal
changes of abode than those of the land; as the water
undergoes less change of temperature, and as some of those
sea animals which, like the seal, require to come frequently
to the surface to breathe, do not require to remain long
above water, or have much of their bodies exposed to the
air. The grand inconvenience which they seek to avoid,
appears to be the labour of keeping open those breathing
holes, without which they could not live under the ice. Or
if there is any other instinct, it may be t?ie desire of escap-
ing their enemies, as the bears and the northern people
watch them at their holes, and make them a sure and easy
prey. Those who have not thought rightly upon the sub-
ject, are apt to say that they could not know of those
dangers, and therefore could not seek to avoid them with-
out experience. But that is part of the general error into
which we are so apt to fall when we begin the study of
nature. We make ourselves the standard of comparison,
and think of the animals not only as if they had to deal
with men, but as if they actually were men themselves.
Whereas, in their natural state they need no teaching, and
the danger, or the means of life, and the instinct by which
the one is avoided, and the other secured, are co-existent.
We are in the habit of attributing superior sagacity to ani-
mals in certain stages of their being; as we give the "old
fox" credit for greater cunning. That may be, indeed,
must be, true, as regards the arts of man, because the
means to which he resorts for the capture or destruction of
animals are not natural, and thus it would be a violation of
the law of nature to suppose that they should be met by a
natural instinct. In situations which nature produces, the
children of nature are never at a loss; but as the contri-
vances of man are no part of her plans, it would be con-
trary to the general law to suppose that they should be
instinctively provided against these. That they do learn
a little wisdom from experience, is a proof that they are
not mere machines; that they are something more than
mechanical; that life, in the humblest thing that lives, is
different in kind from the action of mere matter; and that
there runs through the whole of organized being, a philo-
sophy which man, when he thinks of it, must admire, but
which he cannot fathom. The animal, or even the plant,
is not like an engine, confined to certain movements which
it cannot vary, but has a certain range of volition (if we
may give it the name) by means of which it can deviate a
little from that which would otherwise be its path, if that
path contain ought that is dangerous or inconvenient. Thus,

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

if we would come to the living productions of nature with
minds fit for learning those lessons which they are so well
calculated for imparting, we must equally avoid two ex-
tremes, the one of which would lead us to confound organic
being with the mere inorganic clods of the valley, and the
other would lead us to confound their instantaneous im-
pulses with deliberation, and measure instinct by the stand-
ard of reason.

The migrations of birds are more remarkable, and have
been more early and more carefully observed; and that

thus, while in migration they seek their own immediate
comfort, they preserve other races of being. In some of
the species, too, they preserve a portion of their own race.
It has been mentioned that the young of the swan are una-
ble to migrate the first year; and of most migratory birds,
there are always a few that are unable for the fatigue of
migration. If the strong did not go away, the whole of the
weak, and in cases like that of the swan, the whole of the
young, would perish. After the moulting takes place, in
most birds, perhaps in all of them in a state of nature, the

birds should have a greater range, is in perfect accordance paternal instinct ceases to operate; they feel no more for the

with the general law of nature. The apparatus with which i— ~J -'"•^•--^ t. i. r. ...ir __,__• i_„

the majority of birds are furnished for preparing their food

for digestion in the stomach, confines that food within a

smaller compass tl^n the food of the quadrupeds. With

the exception of the birds of prey, which can rend other

animals for their subsistence, and are thus capable of living

at all seasons of the year, the birds must subsist upon soft

substances, as insects and their larvffi, or the seeds, and

green and succulent leaves of plants; while quadrupeds,

beino- furnished with organs of mastication which, along

with the saliva, reduce their food to a sort of pulp before

it be swallowed, can subsist upon dry leaves and bark, and

even upon twigs. Thus, in even the coldest countries.

brood of that year. It is each for itself individually durino
the necessity of the winter; and when the genial warmth
of the spring again awakens the more kindly feelings, the
objects of those feelings are a new brood. In her march,
nature never looks back; her instinct is fixed on the pre-
sent, and thus leads to the future, without any reference to
that experience which the progress of reason and thought
requires. In consequence of this, the strong would take
the food from the weak, the active from the feeble, .and the
full-grown from their offspring, if nature were not true to
her purpose, and prompted the powerful to wing their way
to regions in which food is more easily to be found, and
leave the young and the feeble to pick up the fragments that

there is still some food for a portion of those quadrupeds are left, in those places which they are unable to quit,
that live upon vegetables; and these again afford subsistence
for the carnivorous ones, as well as for the more powerful
birds of prey. In very cold places too, the smaller quad-
rupeds, and even some of the larger ones, are so constituted
that they hibernate, or pass the winter in a state of tor-
pidity, in which they have no necessity for food, and con-
sequently none for change of place.

It has been said that the teachableness which is the cha-
racteristic of man, has nothing to do with the instincts of
the animals; but it does not follow that he should not take
a lesson from those instincts; because the instincts of ani-
mals and the reason of man are all intended to forward the
very same objects — the good of the individual and of the
race. Now, in this very fact of the migration of birds.

But in the severity of the northern winter, the food of simple and natural as it may seem, and unheeded as it is

the feathered tribes fails. The earth and the waters are
bound up in ice, so that the worms and larvs are beyond
their reach; the air, which in summer is so peopled with
insects, is left without a living thing; the buds of the lowly
evero-reen shrubs, and those seeds which have fallen to the
ground, are hid under that cold but fertilizing mantle of
snow, which, cold as it seems, secures the vegetation of the
coming summer; the berries and capsules that rise above
the snow are soon exhausted; and the buds of the alpine
trees are generally so enveloped in resin and other indi-
gestible matters, that they cannot be eaten. Thus the birds
must roam in quest of food: nor is it a hardship,— it is a
wise provision. Were they to remain, and had they access
to the embryos of life in their then state, one season would
go far to make the country a desart; and even the birds
would be deprived of their summer subsistence for them-
selves and their young. They are also provided with
means by which they can transport themselves, in average
states of the weather.

ithout much inconvenience; and

by careless observers, we have an example worth copying,
even in the most refined and best governed society. The
strong and the active go upon far journeys, and subsist in
distant lands, and leave what food there is for their more
helpless brethren. Would men do the same — would they
temper the work to the capacity of the worker, in the way
that it is done by the instincts of those migratory birds —
the world would be spared a deal of misery. It is thus
that, in the careful study of nature, man stands reproved
at the example of the lower creatures, and learns, by doing
by reason as they do by instinct, to be grateful to that
Power, " who teacheth us more than the beasts of the field,
and maketh us wiser than the fowls of heaven."

The migrating birds that spend part of the year in the
British islands, may be divided into two classes, — su7n-
mer birds and winter birds; but of both classes some are
only occasional visitants, and others are mere birds of
passage, tarrying only for a short time, as they are on their
route to other countries.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

The two general classes observe the same law in both of
their migratory instincts — the finding of food, and of fit
places for the rearing of their young. The general motion
for these two purposes is in opposite directions — they move
toward warmer regions in search of food, and toward colder
ones in order to build their nests. The winter birds come
to us for food, and the summer ones for nidification. The
winter ones never are those that feed upon land insects, and
but seldom those that feed upon seeds; because when they
come, there are few of these. They are chiefly water-
birds, in some sense or other. They frequent the shores of
the seas, the inland lakes, or the margins of springs, rivu-
lets, and rivers, and they swi.m or wade, or merely run
along the bank, according to their nature; and resort to
those haunts where their food is to be found with the most
unerring certainty. They are all common inhabitants of
regions farther to the north, have reared their broods there,
and remained till the supply of food began to fail. The
extent of their flight southward depends upon the severity
of the winter; they come earlier, and extend farther, when
that is severe; and their departure is accelerated by a warm
spring, and retarded by a cold one. Though the diffusion
of the same species of birds be much more extended than
that of the same species of quadrupeds, there is still a va-
riation according to the longitude. The birds of passage
which appear in Britain are not exactly the same as those
either of continental Europe or of America; and that ac-
counts for the appearance of the occasional visiters. A
strong wind from the east, during the time of their flight,
often wafts a continental bird to our shores; and a strong
wind from the west occasionally brings us an American
visiter. The flight of birds is, therefore, a sort of augury,
though a very difierent sort from that believed in by the
superstitions of antiquity. It has no connexion with the
ofiBces or fortunes of men, but it tells what kind of season
prevails in those climes whence the visiters come. The
early appearance of the winter birds is a sure sign of an
early winter in the northern countries; and the early
appearance of the summer ones is just as sure a sign of an
early and genial spring in the south.

The migration of our winter visitants is a very simple
matter; we can easily understand why birds, when their
supply of food begins to fail, should fly ofi" in a warm direc-
tion; but the return — the general migration northward for
the purpose of rearing their young, is, at first consideration,
a more difficult matter. Yet when we think a little, the
difficulty ceases, and the one movement becomes no more a
miracle or a marvel than the other. Very many of the
summer birds feed upon insects; and summer insects are
more abundant in the northern regions than in the south.
This happens particularly with the water-flies, of which there
are supposed to be several generations in the course of a
Rr

long summer's day; and the short night at that season occa-
sions little interruption to their production. The same
causes which produce the greater supply of insect food, in-
crease the daily period during which the bird can hunt,
and this gives it a farther facility of finding food, over
what it would have in the comparatively short days farther
to the south. But the breeding time is that at which the
birds are called upon for extraordinary labour. During the
period that the nest is building, there is a new occupation
altogether; and the nests, even of very small birds, are
constructed with so much care, that that and the finding of
subsistence demand more than the average power of indus-
try. When the female begins to sit on the eggs, the feed-
ing of her partially depends upon the male; and when the
young are hatched, their support, till they are in a condition
for supporting themselves, requires a considerable portion
of the time and industry of both parents. When the young
are fledged, the parent birds still require long days: the
operation of moulting, by which their tattered plumage is
replaced by a new supply, exhausts them: thus they have
long days, and also food in abundance, when they are least
able to make exertions in search of it; and by the time that
the decreasing supply warns them that it is time to seek
more southern climes, they are in prime feather and vigor-
ous health, and able to sustain the fatigues of the voyage.
The return, too, is, generally speaking, after the autumnal
equinox, so that in their migration southward, they have
the same advantage of a longer day than in places north-
ward. Thus, even in this common-place matter — a matter
which is so common-place that few take the trouble of heed-
ing it, and almost none inquire farther than saying that it
is the instinct of birds, — we may trace as perfect a succes-
sion of antecedent and consequent, or as we say, of cause
and efiect, as in any other part of the works or economy of
creation. We ought, indeed, to guard very carefully
against stopping at the word instinct, or indeed at any other
word which is so very general that we cannot attach a clear
and definite meaning to it. Those general words are the
stumbling-blocks and barriers in the way to knowledge;
and when we turn to them who take upon themselves the
important business of instruction, and ask them for an ex-
planation, they but too frequently give us a word, and
when we get one, in our own language or in any other, to
which we can attach no meaning, the path to knowledge is
closed. Perhaps there are few words by which it is more
frequently closed than this same word, "instinct;" because
we are apt to rest satisfied with it as an ultimate or insulated
fact, and never inquire into that chain of phenomena of
which it forms a part. Now nothing in nature stands alone:
— Creation needs no new fiat; but the succession of events
throughout all her works depends on laws which are uner-
ring, because they are not imposed by any thing from

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

without, but are the very nature and constitution of the
beings that appear to obey them. It is this which makes
nature so wonderful, which so stamps upon it the impress
of an almighty Creator: — its parts and phenomena are mil-
lions; the primary power that puts all in motion, is but
One.

These reflections have been a little extended, because
they are often in danger of being overlooked; and because
the tranquil shore of an expansive lake is one of the best
scenes for contemplation, — one at which the several ele-
ments and their inhabitants are more easily brought to-
gether than at almost any other. But it is not the broad
expanse of water, with its mountains and its majestic
scenery, that is alone worthy of our contemplation. The
mountain tarn, which gleams out in the bosom of some
brown hill or beetling rock, like a gem in the desert, when
one does not expect it; — the sheet of glittering water amid
encircling forests; and the shelving pool amid undulated
green hills, with its margins alternating of white marie,
clean pebbles, and sedgy banks, have all their beauty and
their respective inhabitants. It is true that the osprey and
the fishing-eagle do not there display their feats of strength,
and the wild swan does not bring forth her young, or even
often visit; but our old friend the heron is there, and she
finds new associates with whom she can dwell in peace.
British Naturalist.

WOODCOCK.
SCOLOPAX MINOR.
[Plate XIV.]
Arct. Zool. p. 463, No. 365.— Turt. Syst. 396,

Scolo-
p. 714, No. 2. Gen. Syn.

pax minor, Lath. Ind. Orn

3, p. 131. — J. Doughty's Collection.

This bird is universally known to our sportsmen. It
arrives in Pennsylvania early in March, sometimes sooner;
and I doubt not but in mild winters some few remain with
us the whole of that season. During the day, they keep to
the woods and thickets, and at the approach of evening seek
the springs, and open watery places, to feed in. They soon
disperse themselves over the country to breed. About the
beginning of July, particularly in long-continued hot
weather, they descend to the marshy shores of our large
rivers, their favourite springs and watery recesses, inland,
being chiefly dried up. To the former of these retreats
they are pursued by the merciless sportsman, flushed by
dogs, and shot down in great numbers. This species of
amusement, when eagerly followed, is still more laborious
and fatiguing than that of Snipe-shooting; and from the
nature of the ground, or cripple as it is usually called, viz.

deep mire, intersected with old logs, which are covered and
hid from sight by high reeds, weeds, and alder bushes, the
best dogs are soon tired out; and it is customary with sports-
men, who regularly pursue this diversion, to have two sets
of dogs, to relieve each other alternately.

Tiie Woodcock usually begins to lay in April. The
nest is placed on the ground, in a retired part of the woods,
frequently at the root of an old stump. It is formed of a
few withered leaves, and stalks of grass, laid with very
little art. The female lays four, sometimes five, eggs,
about an inch and a half long, and an inch or rather more in
diameter, tapering suddenly to the small end. These are
of a dun clay colour, thickly marked with spots of brown,
particularly at the great end, and interspersed with others
of a very pale purple. The nest of the Woodcock has, in
several instances that have come to my knowledge, been
found with eggs in February; but its usual time of begin-
ning to lay is early in April. In July, August, and Sep-
tember, they are considered in good order for shooting.

The Woodcock is properly a nocturnal bird, feeding
chiefly at night, and seldom stirring about till after sunset.
At such times, as well as in the early part of the morning,
particularly in spring, he rises by a kind of spiral course, to
a considerable height in the air, uttering at times a sudden
quack, till having gained his utmost height, he hovers
around in a wild, irregular manner, making a sort of mur-
muring sound; then descends with rapidity as he rose.
When uttering his common note on the ground, he seems
to do it with difficulty, throwing his head towards the
earth, and frequently jetting up his tail. These notes and
manffiuvres are most usual in spring, and are the call of the
male to his favourite female. Their food consists of vari-
ous larvse, and other aquatic worms, for which, during the
evening, they are almost continually turning over the
leaves with their bill, or searching in the bogs. Their
flesh is reckoned delicious, and prized highly. They re-
main with us till late in autumn; and on the falling of the
first snows, descend from the ranges of the Alleghany, to
the lower parts of the country, in great numbers; soon
after which, viz. in November, they move ofi'to the south.

This bird, in its general figure and manners, greatly re-
sembles the Woodcock of Europe, but is considerably less,
and very diSerently marked below, being an entirely dis-
tinct species. A few traits will clearly point out their dif-
ferences. The lower parts of the European Woodcock are
thickly barred with dusky waved lines, on a yellowish white
ground. The present species has those parts of a bright fer-
ruginous. The male of the American species weighs from five
to six ounces, the female eight: the European twelve. The
European Woodcock makes its first appearance in Britain
in October and November, that country being in fact only
its winter quarters; for early in March they move off to

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

the northern parts of the continent to breed. The Ameri-
can species, on the contrary, winters in countries south of
the United States, arrives here early in March, extends its
migrations as far, at least, as the river St. Lawrence, breeds
in all the intermediate places, and retires again to the south
on the approach of winter. The one migrates from the
torrid to the temperate regions; the other from the tempe-
rate to the arctic. The two birds, therefore, notwith-
standing their names are the same, differ not only in size
and markings, but also in native climate. Hence the
absurdity of those who would persuade us, that the Wood-
cock of America crosses the Atlantic to Europe, and
vice versa. These observations have been thought neces-
sary, from the respectability of some of our own writers,
who seem to have adopted this opinion.

How far to the north our Woodcock is found, I am un-
able to say. It is not mentioned as a bird of Hudson's
Bay; and being altogether unknown in the northern parts
of Europe, it is very probable that its migrations do not
extend to a very high latitude; for it may be laid down as
a general rule, that those birds which migrate to the arctic
regions in either continent, are very often common to both.
The head of the Woodcock is of singular conformation,
large, somewhat triangular, and the eye fixed at a remarka-
ble distance from the bill, and high in the head. This con-
struction was necessary to give a greater range of vision,
and to secure the eye from injury while the owner is
searching in the mire. The flight of the Woodcock is slow.
When flushed at any time in the woods, he rises to the
height of the bushes or under wood, and almost instantly
drops behind them again at a short distance, generally run-
ning ofl'for several yards as soon as he touches the ground.
The notion that there are two species of Woodcock in this
country probably originated from the great difference be-
tween the male and female, the latter being considerably
the larger.

The male Woodcock is ten inches and a half long, and
sixteen inches in extent; bill a brownish flesh colour, black
towards the tip, the upper mandible ending in a slight nob,
that projects about one-tenth of an inch beyond the lower,*
each grooved, and in length somewhat more than two
inches and a half; forehead, line over the eye, and whole
lower parts, reddish tawny; sides of the neck inclining to
ash; between the eye and bill, a slight streak of dark
brown; crown, from the fore-part of the eye backwards,
black, crossed by three narrow bands of brownish white;
cheeks marked with a bar of black, variegated with light

* Mr. Pennant, {Arct. Zool. p. 463.) in describing Ihe American Woodcock
says, Ihat the lower mandible is much shorter than the upper. From the appear-
ance of his figure it is evident that the specimen from which that and his de-
Bcription were taken, had lost nearly half an inch from the lower mandible,
probably broken off by accident. Turton and others have repeated this mis-
take.

brown; edges of the back and of the scapulars, pale bluish
white; back and scapulars, deep black, each feather tipt or
marbled with light brown and bright ferruginous, with
numerous fine zigzag lines of black crossing the lighter
parts; quills plain dusky brown; tail black, each feather
marked along the outer edge with small spots of pale brown,
and ending in narrow tips of a pale drab colour above, and
silvery white below; lining of the wing bright rust; legs
and feet a pale reddish flesh colour; eye very full and
black, seated high, and very far back in the head; weight
five ounces and a half, sometimes six.

The female is twelve inches long, and eighteen in extent;
weighs eight ounces; and differs also in having the bill very
near three inches in length; the black on the back is not
quite so intense; and the sides under the wings are slightly
barred with dusky.

The young Woodcocks, of a week or ten days old, are
covered with down of a brownish white colour, and are
marked from the bill, along the crown to the hind-head,
with a broad stripe of deep brown; another line of the same
passes through the eyes to the hind-head, curving under
the ej'e; from the back to the rudiments of the tail runs
another of the same tint, and also on the sides under the
wings; the throat and breast are considerably tinged with
rufous; and the quills, at this age, are just bursting from
their light blue sheaths, and appear marbled as in the old
birds; the legs and bill are of a pale purplish ash colour,
the latter about an inch long. When taken, they utter a
long, clear, but feeble, peep, not louder than that of a mouse.
They are far inferior to young Partridges in running and
skulking; and should the female unfortunately be killed,
may easily be taken on the spot.

INDIAN HUNTERS.

A GOOD hunter is, among the Indians, as much distin-
guished as a valiant warrior, and is always more wise and less
depraved. When hunting, every Indian is attentive to his
duty, and nothing but his duty. He forgets quarrelling,
gaming, (which also is one of his vices, ) and even his ferocity.
Some of the traders, who follow everyyear in their train, have
assured me that the winter Indian and the summer Indian
are totally different beings. During summer, he is always
in a state of indolence, which degrades and brutifies man in
his most civilized and best educated state: the winter he
passes in labour, which tames and softens characters the
most reckless and ferocious. In hunting, the Indians are
indefatigable, though engaged in exercise incessant and most
laborious; and the success with which they pursue their vari-
ous game through both prairies and forests, in lakes and rivers,
displays strongly the acuteness of their understandings.

Beltrami.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

TREATISE ON BREAKING DOGS.

One of the most important things to the shooter is the
possession of a good setter or pointer Dog. On this de-
pends, in a great measure, his pleasure and success — and
this necessary auxiliary to his recreations is within the
reach of every man, who can either shoot well, or will give
as much time and perseverance as the subject requires. To
break a Dog properly, it is necessary to possess skill, pa-
tience, and perseverance; and without these two latter
qualities, it will be useless for any one to undertake it. It
is to the want of these properties, we may attribute the fact
of being overrun with useless or half-broken Dogs. It will
be well for every young sportsman to consider this subject
properly, and to make himself acquainted with every rule
necessary to the attainment of this grand object; and, under
these considerations, I have, by consulting various authors,
and my own experience, submitted the following rules,
which, if strictly followed, cannot fail to complete the
education of a Dog.

In choosing a Dog, it is difficult to say which of the two
breeds is best, viz. the setter or pointer; they both possess
the same qualities, and the choice must be pretty much a
matter of fancy.* I have always given preference to the

* A Dog should not be chosen solely for his capacity to stand at game, as this
principle is not always confined to the pointer or setter Dog. I knew a Dog
which was half bull, set a partridge with as much stanchness as any setter Dog;
and I have also seen a hound, and spaniel, do the same thing; and Daniels, in
his Rural Sports, makes mention of a celebrated sow, so perfect in this habit, as
to rival the most sagacious pointer or setter.

setter, because the best Dog I ever owned, or saw, was a
setter Dog. Others give preference to pointer Dogs, be-
cause their experience warranted the same determination.
The main point, however, to decide, is, whether they have
descended from an indubitable stock; this ascertained, the
rest depends altogether on their education. Those who
favour the latter, argue that they possess more fleetness,
bottom, and tractability, and can withstand the fatigue and
heat of suinmer without water better than setters. To this
last reason I cheerfully subscribe, but the former I doubt.
The setter has advantages over the other in cold weather,
is more willing to enter thickets and difficult places, and
takes to water more freely, and possesses an equal degree of
sagacity — however, the choice being made, the master
should procure the Dog before he is six months old. This
is necessar}-, in order to give liiin all the advantages of an
early education, and is of more importance than many per-
sons are aware of: for the impressions given to a young
Dog, are like those on youth — the strongest; beside, the
Dog is growing up by his master's side, becomes habituated
to his actions, language, and government, and gives advan-
tages, when the period arrives for training in the field,
which can then only be properly appreciated. Every
sportsman should break his own Dog. This is of the
first importance, if he wishes to possess a good one and
enjoy comfort while hunting him. A Dog purchased of a
stranger, or given to another to break, has, in a great mea-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

sure, to undergo a severe training and a second course of
education, wlien he comes into the possession of his new mas-
ter, before he is habituated to this master's style — hence the
strong necessity of every sportsman attending to the educa-
tion of his own Dog. To this circumstance may be attri-
buted the reason, why many gentlemen, who, being de-
lighted with the actions of strange Dogs, have purchased
them at extravagant prices, and on trial of these Dogs, sepa-
rately from their original owners, have proved but inferior
animals; and, being disgusted, have parted with them im-
mediately, at any price, and the first vender cursed as a
swindling knave. But a little reflection will convince any
reasonable person, that the fault is neither the Dog's nor
the original owners, but is entirely owing to the first im-
pressions, given during the season of immaturity, having
been so radical as to admit of no alteration by the second
owner. Few Dogs will hunt during the first and second
year's training, so well with a stranger as with the man
who broke them; and it will be well for all who wish to
purchase young Dogs, (no matter how exalted their cha-
racters,) to try them separately from their masters.

Another important thing is worthy of great consideration,
and this is the impropriety of lending Dogs — at all events,
if a gentleman has feelings of generosity sufiicient to oblige
his friend in this way, he ought never to do so until after
the second season of training; for it is not until this period
that a Dog may be said to have completed his education,
or that his impressions are deep-rooted. The practice of
lending Dogs is certainly a bad one, and frequently the
lent Dog is injured by his master's generosity. But then
this description of sportsmen, when appealed to, argues in
himself — how can I disoblige my friend? I have enjoyed
pleasure with my Dog and gun; he has none. Shall I not
contribute to him the same means of enjoyment, which I
have used myself so often? But, still, I fear injury to my
Dog. And then reflecting that he was created a social
being, and placed in circumstances whereby he may add,
perhaps, one day of pleasure to his importunate friend, he
casts off the unnatural feelings of selfishness, and fulfils
this duty of social life.

I do not recommend that a Dog should be loaned, only
under particular circumstances, and the owner may do so,
by proper discrimination, without as much risk of injuring
the Dog, as the chance of ofl'ending his friend, or bearing
the imputation of being a selfish man.

In naming a Dog, it is recommended that short and ex-
pressive names, (of one syllable, if possible,) should be
adopted, and avoid all those words ending in o, or sounding
like the words used in training; also, to adopt other
names for those common-place words now in use, as great
confusion sometimes prevails in consequence of two or
three Dogs hunting together which are named alike. I
Ss

once had the prospect of a fine day's shooting entirely
ruined from this circumstance. My Dog and my friend's
being named so much alike, that the former kept around
my heels the whole day, in consequence of the latter,
(which was a headstrong dog,) having been hallooed at con-
tinually by his master.

Supposing now your Dog is six months old, it will be
necessary that he should follow you in your walks abroad,
and repeatedly taken to the fields and suffered to race
about, and enter bushes and thickets, and chase every bird
without restraint. This will give him spirit and anima-
tion, which will continually grow on him; and it is not ad-
visable to check or speak harshly to him, but encourage
this spirited disposition as much as possible. You should
always, before feeding him, make him crouch at your feet,
using, at the same time, the words, "down," or " close,"
or " down charge;" or it is better to habituate him to do
so, by raising your hand and saying softly, hush. Endea-
vour, at all times, to use him to words spoken in a low
voice, as some future day will convince }-ou of the neces-
sity of doing so, when you may be surrounded with scat-
tered game — silence, then, will, in a great measure, gua-
rantee your success, and these early lessons will have, at
that period, a salutary effect on him; and, as a reward to
his obedience, feed him. The same plan may, and should
be used to learn him to stand at a piece of meat. This
should be done by using the word " toho.'" This simple
word, so universally known and adopted, has been proved
by experience, to act as magic on the instinct of the setter
and pointer Dogs; and it is doubtful whether another word
could be adopted to supply its place with the same success;
therefore it should be very early engrafted on his memory,
as it is the most important of the very few words necessary
to break a Dog. If he is brought to stand, (and a very few
lessons will answer the purpose,) give him the meat that was
before him. By rewarding a 3'oung Dog in this way, with
food, he may be learned many things, and it is well worth
the trial of learning him to bring articles, as a ball, gloves,
apples, or sticks; and always, when obedient, reward him
with food. Idle moments may be frequently spent in this
way, to learn a young Dog a variety of little things of this
kind; not that these things are intrinsically valuable in them-
selves, but they habituate a Dog to strict obedience, and
the sounds and actions used in learning him these little
tricks are so various and many, and he becomes so familiar
to your words and actions, that when his services at some
future day, may be required for more important affairs, his
obedience can be depended on, and his readiness to serve
you will, in a measure, become mechanical, because he has
been so completely schooled to your expressions. In all
your endeavours, at this age, to learn him, do it by reward-
ing; and never, (if it is possible for you to avoid it,) chas-

162

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY.

tise him. This can be done if the tutor will be patient.
Chastisement will dispirit and frighten a young Dog, when
the opposite treatment will make him love and obey you.
The disposition in children to learn, has frequently been
checked, if not destroyed, by severity; and disgust to the
book and school excited by harshness on the part of the
master; therefore, when you give your young Dog meat,
make him halt at the word " toho," before he is suffered to
eat it, and a very few lessons, in this wa}', will so habituate
him to that expression, that, so soon as he, in the field, sees
another Dog standing at game, will understand the word
when you remind him of it. The capacity of a young Dog
will admit of much instruction, but if you wish your instruc-
tion to be effective, in things pertaining to the field, you
should give him tuition at home and before he has hunted in
company with another Dog. Many persons condemn this
plan, as being different altogether from the duties of the
field, but the same reasons may be urged against the neces-
sity of training our military in the streets, as being unlike
the field of war; but does not the soldier often call into exer-
cise, in the field of battle, those tactics he learned at home?
It is in consequence of many persons, neglect of, or preju-
dice against, this early instruction, that many Dogs are only
half what they might have been.

We now suppose your Dog to be nine months old; he is
then strong and has attained nearly his full size, and at the
proper age to commence training in the field. He should
then be taken, (if possible,) in company with an old, well-
broken Dog, without the gun, until he acquires the habit of
ranging pretty well; and to make him spirited, he should
be suffered to chase the birds as they rise. This will excite
much keenness and love for hunting, as well as a disposition
to range well. It is all important, that a Dog should pos-
sess great spirit; for an animal of this kind can be trained
with less difficulty and more satisfaction, than one of the
contrary disposition. It is much easier to check an impe-
tuous Dog, than give spirit to one deficient of this principle.
When you find that your young Dog is sufficiently keen
after game, you, moderately and by gradual means,
should check him, and then you may hunt him with a gun;
and as this is, perhaps, the first time he has seen or heard a
gun discharged, it may have the effect of frightening him
from you, and making him return home. This sometimes
proves to bean unpleasant and unfortunate circumstance, as
it may be found difficult to get him to follow you to the
field again, should you have a gun in your hand. In this
case, I would advise, that he be frequently taken to the
field, and tied to some stake or tree, and having provided a
pistol, commence firing at .some distance from him, gradually
approaching the Dog at every few discharges, until you
think firing immediately over him will not materially affect
him. It is proper, also, to take some meat, and, at every

few discharges, pause, feed, and caress him. At first,
in all probability, he will make several eff'orts to escape, but
finding them unavailing, he will lie down in a sullen mood,
until, by a number of discharges, he becomes regardless of
the gun.

This plan I have followed successfully, and have known
others to do so too; but the best and most natural plan,
however, is, to hunt the young Dog in company with seve-
ral others, and not separately, and the carelessness of
these Dogs to the report of the gun, will give him confi-
dence also; and a few hours shooting will entirely divest
him of all fear of the gun.

The sportsman should not fail to caress him at every fire,
and if he entertains doubts of his stability, he should pro-
vide a small quantity of meat to be given him. This will
gain his confidence, when all other means prove fruitless,
and by giving him the birds to smell and mouth, he will
get an insight into the object of your pursuit, and make him
familiar to the scent of the game also. This is an impor-
tant period with the Dog, and the master should by no
means leave it unimproved; for, half a day followed up
strictly on this principle, will excite spirit, and his fear
being overcome, he will take pleasure in ranging out freely
with the other Dogs. Many young Dogs, at this time, are
ruined, because the fear which takes hold of a Dog sinks
him spiritless to the ground, or deranges him for the time,
when anger or impatience in the sportsman causes him to
treat the frightened animal with undue severity, discour-
ages him from further hunting, and is useless ever after.

When you have hunted your Dog several days, the style
of his hunting should be strictly regarded by you, as of the
next importance. If he ranges with his head high and nose
well up, there will be no difficulty in breaking him to your
mind; but if, on the contrary, he should hunt with his nose
to the ground, in a manner as if trailing game, the sports-
man will have many difficulties to surmount before he can
break him of this habit. Every effort, however, should be
made to correct it; for a Dog of this kind will frequently
flush game before he can possibly scent it, owing to the cir-
cumstance of his nose being confined in the grass and stub-
ble, and following the trail of the birds. Game always
become restless, and will generally take wing, if an object
which pursues them follows directly in their wake; and
this is the case with all Dogs which hunt nose down.

But it is different with a Dog that ranges with a high
head, as birds, when they find a Dog pass backwards and
forwards promiscuously, will either rest quiet or merely
endeavour to avoid them by running, and do not appear
alarmed so long as the Dog will keep from trailing them.
Beside, it gives this Dog a greater superiority over the
other, for the reason that all effluvium ascends and is scat-
tered more or les.s, according to tiie temperature of the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

atmosphere, sometimes spreading over a considerable sur-
face: therefore, when a Dog by ranging witli a high head,
enters the area of this effluvium, his olfactory nerves detect
the course whence it proceeds, and then his sphere of
ranging contracts gradually, until it becomes a gentle,
straight-forward trot, and by a final stop marks the spot
where the game lies concealed. Effluvium, like smoke,
ascends rapidly or skims the surface of the ground, accord-
ing to the density or rarit}^ of the air, and should the wind
be blowing gently on damp and lowering days, or when
the atmosphere is dense, a Dog that ranges with his nose
well up, will smell or receive this effluvium at a most asto-
nishing distance: and this explains the great difference
which is manifested frequently by the same Dog. There-
fore, the advantage of'this description of Dogs over the for-
mer, is so great, that it is worth every experiment to make
a Dog hunt with his nose well up. And to effect this, it is
necessary that whenever your Dog shows a disposition to
put his nose to the ground, he should be spoken to sharply,
" hold up," and repeated angrily every time he acts in this
way. This will make him uneasy, and generally break
him from a sneaking walk or trot into a handsome canter,
and frequent repetition of this scolding will generally pro-
duce the desired effect. But should simple means, like
these, prove unavailing, after a fair and patient trial, the
sportsman must resort to a more severe measure; and this
will be the application of the "puzzle-peg," or more pro-
perly, the "muzzle-peg."* The advantage of this instru-
ment is, to prevent the Dog from putting his nose to the
ground, and when hunting in high grass or stubble, by rea-
son of its continually catching the weeds, &.C., creates so
much uneasiness to the Dog, that he will be obliged to keep
his head high, in order to avoid these troublesome objects;
and a few hours, on several days, will give him a habit of
ranging with his nose up, and if, while in this position, he
should be brought to scent and stand game, his instinct will
soon point out the superior manner of the two, and he will
most likely ever after follow it, for most of the sagacious
traits in Dogs are the effect of experience.

* The " muzzle-peg" is a piece of pine wood, in
shape like the figure, of about three fourths of an
inch in thickness, and two and a half inches broad
at one end, to taper down to about one and a hall
inches to the other end, and of sufficient length to
pass from the Dog's throat, under his jaw, eight
inches beyond his nose. The broad end should
be fastened to a strap, in order to buckle round
his neck; and the smaller end fastend inside or
behind his lower tusks, by means of a buckskin
cord. This instrument will put the Dog to much
inconvenience, at first, and he will try his best to
rid himself of it J but finding hisefibrts unavailing,
will follow quietly after you for some time, but
will soon become accustomed to it, and then range abou

It should always be the sportsman's peculiar care, to
keep his Dog steady at his work, and never suffer him to
loiter about, or stand gazing at the other Dogs. But to
effect this, it is necessary that the sportsman himself be
active and persevering; for if the master will loiter and idle
his time by sitting on a stump or fence, it is natural to sup-
pose that in the early stages of training, the Dog will follow
his example, either by resting in the field or at his master's
feet, or stand gazing at him or the other Dogs: therefore
give force to your precepts by examples of industry, and
whenever your Dog shows a disposition to lag, or smell the
ground for small birds or ground mice, speak out to him
sharply — "holdup!" "take care, sirrah!" This will be
sufficient to answer every purpose. I.

FINAL ANSWER TO I. T. S.

Gextlemen,

I will not occupy much of your space in replying to the
last communication of I. T. S. The subject of contro-
versy between us can never, I apprehend, be satisfactorily
decided by rules of philosophy, or correctly illustrated by
diagram. The practice of the sportsman must, in the end,
determine him, and his deliberation and judgment alone,
render him proficient in the art. If, in my argument in a
former number, with reference to the diagram of I. T. S.,
I adopted a mode of reasoning which he supposes irrelevant
to the case, I regret it as sincerely as himself; as it was not
my wish to misapprehend him. Upon a review, however,
of that argument, and applying it to his late illustration of
the subject, I find so little reason for retraction, that I am
willing to go with him from his own starting place, and let
his principle commence at the precise point of time he
wishes. It is in the latitude of time which j^our corres-
pondent allows for the passage of the contents of the gun
to its object, that Ins great mistake lies; and when he takes
as his ground-work, the same time for the effect of the shot
on passing from the muzzle, as for the flight of the bird in
87 feet, he cannot expect to build upon it a system of rea-
soning convincing or satisfactory to your readers. The
precise period of time consumed in the passage of the con-
tents of a gun to the object, cannot be correctly determined;
but admitting, as I. T. S. does, in practical shooting, that
six inches allowance is necessary for a duck in his ordinary
flight, at sixtv yards distance, and supposing the duck to
fly at the rate of 87 feet in the second; it follows that but
the 1 74th part of a second would elapse for the effect of the
shot, from the first touch of the trigger. And supposing,

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

again, a sensible interval of time to ensue after the finger
begins to press the trigger, before the load issues from the
barrel, does it not seem evident, that were that interval
sunk by placing the load at the muzzle, when bearing full
on the object, that the discharge and effect must be so nearly
simultaneous, as hardly to admit of a perceptible difference
in time? Now, going upon the principle that I support,
of " keeping up the swing of the gun, in proportion to the
flight of the bird," and not altering its bearing upon it
when pulling trigger, the load is always, as it were, kept at
tlie muzzle of the gun. No time being lost in the passage
of the contents from the breech or in pulling trigger, and
allowing a certain lateral, in connexion with the forward
force of the shot, and several feet for its spread, it appears
almost impossible, with good cover or aim, for a bird ever
to escape. The mode of shooting in advance, I am aware,
is practised by many sportsmen, but it appears to be, as I
before observed, the consequence of habit and confirmed
prejudice, and, in a great measure, attributable to the fact
of the swing of the gun being stopped at the time of pulling
trigger, thereby rendering a certain allowance necessary.
At best, it is but a very uncertain mode of shooting, and
liable to too much discretionary exercise, which the ardour
of the sportsman seldom admits of, and which can never be
relied on in emergencies. Let I. T. S. but try the experi-
ment of shooting on my plan, on his next excursion to the
Chesapeake, and I feel assured he will never again i-esort to
his own. I have conversed with many of our best shots on
the subject, who all decidedly coincide with me in my
views. I was much amused with the reply of an old
sportsman, (a man who follows shooting for a living, and,
than whom few better shots can be found,) to a question
put to him, as to his mode of directing the gun. He had
just come out of the marsh, covered with mud and mire,
and with the best evidence of his success — a bag full of
game. " B.," said I, " were a duck to pass you at fifty or
sixty yards distance, it is more than probable you could kill
it." " I think so." '« Tell me, now, in taking j'our aim,
how much headway would you give; six inches or a foot?"
"Headway," replied he smiling; "why, as for that, I
think I might kill it as soon by giving it a foot ahead as a
foot behind."

The subject having now been viewed in all its different
bearings, I am satisfied to leave it to sportsmen to pronounce
on the merits of our respective modes; and, on closing,
cannot but express my gratification at the courtesy and for-
bearance which has been manifested by your correspondent
throughout this discussion, and the candour with which he
has admitted or acknowledged the correctness and force of
my argument, when convinced in his mind of its truth.

SPORTSMAN.

Count de Launay's
DESCRIPTION OF A FOX HUNT.

Sir — By my vord, Mr. Redacteur, I voud me much
relate von vare great chasse I have me just vitnessed avec
des chiens de Monsieur Craving, at the chateau ol mi Lor
Chichester, von league from this ville.

I vas me sitting at mine dejeune ce matin ven I view
von gentlemans ride past upon a vite cheval, vit him a
coleure de rouge coat on, and von long vip in him hand.
Vat for dis gentleman coat ? I demande of de vaiter ; shall
it be de king? "No, sare," said he, "it be Monsieur
Jacque Bunco going a honting." — " Vot him hunt?" said
I. — " De Fox," said he. "Ah de Renard ! I have me
moch heard of this hont de Renard in Angleterre ; I most
me certainly go. I vill me get my pistolets tout suite." —
"You must have an orse," said the vaiter. "Certaine-
ment ! " said I ; " a vite orse same as Monsieur Bunce : "
but the stoopid vellow got me von black, at vich I vas
much enrage, as I thought I vood be ridicule, for I did me
see another gentlemans on a vite orse same as Monsieur
Bunce ; and de stoopid vellow brought von saddle sans
chose pour les pistolets, and so being in moch hurry I did
me pot them in mine surtout poche."

A great fracas vas at my behind, and ven I look me
round I shall find von fine English lady attired in rouge
and blue, gallop along de street in moch haste, and anoder
gentlemans on anoder vite cheval same as Monsieur Bunce
gallop vit her, and him had rouge on also.

At de chateau varc many peoples had come, and a large
flock of dogs, and two gentlcmens in rouge habits and black
bonnets, who vere grand chasseurs under JNIonsieur Crav-
ing, de grand maitre de chiens. — " Ou est votre mousquet ?
vere is 3'our musket ? " said I to von of these gentlemens,
but he touch him bonnet and said noting. Then com Mon-
sieur Craving, and they both did de same to him. " How
be de vind, George ? " said he to the grossest von ; " shall
ve have moch scent to-day ? " — " De vind be in de East,"
said George, " but I think de scent may do." — " Vill you
accept som scent from me ? " said I to George, offering
him von flacon. " Be it gin ? " said he. "No, not gin,
but bouquet du Roi, vare fine scent, trois franc cinque sous
per bouteille." By my vord the stoopid dem vellow he
did him drink de perfume, and then he spit it out.

" Ve shall go," said Monsieur Craving ; and avay ve all
vent in moch speed. "Vere de Renard ? vere de Renard ?"
I demanded. " Hold your jaw ! " said von gentlemans in
dc bonnet, " you vill make him steal away." — " Ah, him
steal moch poulet, moch turque, n'est-ce-pas ? de same in
France, de same in France ; him vare great voleur ; I shall
him shoot, I shall him shoot ! "

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

" De gentleman be mad," said Monsieur Craving, ven I
produced my pistolet. " Hav a care, George, he vill him-
self shoot." — " Pas de tout ! pas de tout ! I vill me shoot
de Renard sans doute, but not non myself." Just den dere
vas great scream — Oh dear ! him poor gentlemans be moch
hurt I fear. — " Gone avay ! gone avay ! forvard ! forvard !
hoop ! hoop ! tallivo ! tallivo ! " shouted Monsieur Crav-
ing and all de other gentlemens : some blew a trumpet,
and de flock of dogs came up howling and barking. " Old
hard ! " said Monsieur Craving, " old hard ! Pray, sare,
do you think you can catch de Fox yourself?" said he.
" I vill me try," said I, " but vere him be ? " — " Dere him
go," said Monsieur Bunce, as de dogs began to howl vonce
more, and all de gentlemens gallop after them. " I vill be
first," I said. So I charge de whole flock of dogs, and
knocked over three of dem. Oh how dem swore because
I beat dem all ! Then ve got to end of vood, and I thought
de Renard should him come back again ; but Monsieur
Bunce he jomped a gate, and then look back at me, and
said, "now, you tinker, catch dem if you can." De gate
vas open, and I gallop along in great haste, for ve vare all
in moch hurry ; but I arrive at von vare large fosse, and de
lady in rouge demande voud I take it? " Si vous plait,
madame : " and I spur mine orse, but de stoopid bete tom-
bled into it ; and voud you believe it, but de lady jomp
over it and me and my orse ?

" Pick up de pieces," said von gentlemans as he passed
by. "Vot, old poy, are you floored already?" said anoder.
<'Com to me, and I vill help you up," said a third, as him
gallop along. Indeed they all make some compliment as
they pass ; but my orse him manage to get up, and I
found I should not be much damage; so I gallop again over
de soft grass for great distance, mine orse blowing vare
moch.

" This dem Fox will never stop," I said : " by my vord
it is quite ridicule riding after him in this stoopid manner ;
he will surely never dare find his way back to mi Lor Chi-
chester's poulets ; so vy should ve fatigue us to hont him
any further."

" Shov along, ye skrew," said a gentlemans, vondering
at vot I vos stop; " de Fox is sinking." — "Vothim no
svim ? but vere de vater ? " — " Dere he go, up de hill,"
said he ; but how de Fox could sink up de hill I could me
not discover ; but Monsieur George make moch noise, as
did IVIonsieur Craving and all de oder gentlemens ; and at
last I saw de dogs overtake de Renard near von vood. He
vas kill, but Monsieur George took him up and vip de dogs
avay, and all de gentlemens got off orse and valk about ;
and Monsieur Craving com to me and said, « Sare, you
vare near kill my best hound, but make me de pleasure to
accept de broosh." — " Thank you, sare ? " said I ; " but I
T t

should prefere von comb," parceque mine hair vas moch
disorder ; and Monsieur Craving laugh and say, "it be de
Fox's broosh I ofier you sare ; you have rode vare veil,
and I am moch think you will make von vare fine spors-
man." But I say to him, "I thank you, Monsieur Crav-
ing, for dis compliment ; but, by my vord, your English
hont de Renard is much ridicule : j'ou have now com
trois league after dis dem animal, tired your horse, dirty
your breeches, tore your habit, throw mod in my face, and
ven you catch de creature you give him to de dog. If
you desire a Renard, set von trap, and catch him by de leg,
or let Monsieur George shoot him vit de mousquet as him
com out of de vood, but never give yourself de trouble of
honting him in this fashion."

But Monsieur Craving him laugh moch, and say, " Sare,
I tink you shall not comprehend our sport." — "Perhaps
not," I say, "because I shall not tink it sport : derefore I
vill you vish bon jour." — Your vare obedient and vare
humble servant, C DE LAUNAY.

PIGEON SHOOTING,

(by the new tore club.)

Op all the themes that writers ever chose
To try their wits upon in verse or prose,
A Pigeon-shootiiig match would surely be
The last selected for sweet poesy.
But having made this choice, proceed we now,
Despite the frown that sits on any brow.
In airy nothings we take no delight,
A vision is no more, however bright;
No fancied pictures you will here behold,
Plain truth, rough hewn, alone, these lines unfold.

"We now are on the ground; come, let us see.
Where shall we stand? why faith, beneath this tree;
Here, sheltered from the sun, the breezes court,
And pleasantly enjoy this old mens' sport."
Behold the trapper ofi" with shoes and coat,
While anxious D***s opens wide his throat.
And roars, comeM****ll! B****s! H****n! come,
Let's make a match for any modest sum.
But S** v*******n swears he won't agree
Unless the pigeons are as big as he.
I***c C**t**t is willing to go in
If their good landlord buys of him his gin.
R***r will shoot a match (oh, the great gods!)
With any one who gives him lots of odds.
Then M*«***n oflers B-^'^^^^^y a bet.
One out of ten, which makes the old man fret.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

" Fa know I cannot do '/, and Jarvis, tew,

"And if I could, why hang me if I deiv."

W**d is content, (a good, kind-hearted soul,)

Either to shoot, or help to drain a bowl.

Whilst honest H****s shouts, "Confound my eyes!

Let's go to work! such humbugs I despise."

At length a match is made, six on a side;

And now to kill his birds is each man's pride.

J. M****ll first advances to the scratch,

A gunner, whom 'tis pretty hard to match.

"I'm ready — pull!" away the pigeon flies.

The gun 's discharged, and it as certain dies.

Next quick-eyed B**' 's steps into his place,

A man whose shooting can no one disgrace.

He kills his bird, and laughs to see it fall,

Because it flew as though not struck at all.

There, with a single gun, goes A****w H*****!!;

The bird is off — it falls as dead as mutton.

" Of that I was quite sure — I knew she 'd kill,

"Just hold her strait, and she'll do what you will."

Now comes V*******n, many call him S*m,

A worthy fellow, with a deal of whim,

" Is that bird fat?" he asks, " which way 's his head?

"I want to have a chance to shoot him dead.

"There, let him go — I'm ready!" out it tumbles,

He kills it coming, then at the trapper grumbles,

" Why don't you mind? I want the bird thrown higher,

"Do so again, and damme if I fire."

And now left-handed R***r toes the mark,

A better creature ne'er saw Noah's ark.

He shuffles at the score, uplifts his gun.

Sharply cries "Pull!" and then the work is done.

The bird has scarcely time to leave the spot

Before he feels the effect of patent shot.

The shooter then, with length of back opprest,

Stooping, turns round, and brings his gun to rest.

Then B***n W*«d the scratch approaching slow,

Says, "I can't shoot;" unwilling seems to go.

At length he says, « I'm ready, pull the string!"

The bird is loos'd, his gun is heard to ring.

The inoffensive pigeon thinks to fly.

But, like too many more, is doomed to die.

" 'Twas all an accident," the gunner says.

But men will lie in these degenerate days.

While pious F*****k cries, " if thus you serve us,

" From all such accidents may God preserve us!"

Next I. C**t**t, with broad good natur'd face,

His eye upon his lock, assumes his place,

Says calmly, " I am ready, let him go;"

The pigeon says, I will, the gun says no!

A fair and honest chance the bird receives,
But the fell shot too sure his body cleaves.
Thirty or forty yards he gets away.
Then takes a last farewell of the bright day.
And now the name of B*****y is bawl'd.
Or English tvhitehead, as by some he's call'd.
Up to the score he moves with little ease,
"I'm reedy, sir, now let go when ya please."
The obedient trapper, to his duty true,
Pull'd on the string, away the pigeon flew;
His big-bored gun re-echoes o'er the field.
And the poor bird is forced his life to yield.
Now J***b S******d, quiet, easy soul,
Is call'd, as being next upon the roll;
He comes directly, asks where he shall stand,
Then firmly puts his foot upon the sand,
"There, let un go! I'll kill un sure as death. "
His word 's his bond, the bird 's depriv'd of breath.
A truer aim at pigeons few men take,
And a real crack shot he no doubt will make.
Next in rotation see J. H****s come,
A real good fellow, any thing but grum;
Lively and hearty, honest as the day.
Which, for a Yorkshireman, is much to say;
Half through his nose he bids the trapper " pull !"
High the bird flies, with shot he fills him full;
Laughing, he leaves the scratch, despite the slaughter,
Goes to the bar, and calls for gin and water.
Then R. B. F*****k, with his roguish look,
Stepp'd from the crowd, and strait his station took;
The trap is open'd, up the pigeon mounts.
And soon the blood flows from its vital founts.
Last comes the cook, by some call'd blund'ring D***s,
By all who know him thought a rara avis.
Dearly he loves the poet and his song,
Always means right, though mostly doing wrong.
He tells the trapper to let go his bird —
'Tis done — and yet no gun's report is heard:
For he a borrow'd instrument had got.
Whose trigger went too hard — he lost his shot
Theoutscouts now are heard, bang! bang! pop! pop!
But the freed pigeon is not seen to drop;
Over the fields and woods he flies along.
They stare and swear that one poor bird is gone.
Thus they go on, and shoot at ten birds each;
Some they knock down, while some fly out of reach.
Now one gun snaps, another misses fire.
Which make their owners grumble loud in ire;
At length they 're through — the clerk is ask'd to say
Which contending squad has won the day.

AND AJIERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

This being ascertained, the winners smile,
But with no taunting jibes their mouths defile.
Then to the house resort, (except some stickers,)
And there regale them with the INIajor's" liquors.

D. J.

• Major Rose, who formerly kept llie tavern on the ground where the Xe
Pigeon Club shot their matches.

PROSPECT OF GAIME.

The season for shooting Woodcocks will open on the
5th of July, according to law, but the work of destruction
has already commenced in the neighbourhood of this city,
and some parts of New Jersey. The birds, however, are
small, and poor, and can only be valued for the sport of
hunting them, and not for their fitness for the table. The
season, thus far, has been favourable to the increase of this
species of game, which indeed appears to be more plentiful
than for many preceding years, there being scarcely a spot
of ground adapted to the habits of the Woodcock, which
does not contain them.

This is a fortunate thing for our sportsmen, whose regret
at the severities of the past winter will find some allevia-
tion in being able to pursue this bird in anticipation of
the usual fall's sport after quails — and I would here most
strenuously advise my fellow sportsmen, especially those
whose impatience mostly outweighs their prudence — to let
the season for woodcock and rail suffice them for the year,
and in no instance during the approaching fall, destroy
quails — one winter's protection to these birds, will repair,
in a great measure, the havoc, which the protracted snows
of the past winter have made on this favourite game, and
the foresight and prudence of one year will advance the
means of recreation two-fold.

I am pleased to say, and it may be satisfactory to many
sportsmen to know, that there is yet a remnant of quails
in existence, which has been cherished either by some
friendly hand, or the vigorous constitutions of the birds
have buffeted the inclemencies of a winter unprecedented
in its severities. Through the middle and lower part of
New Jersey, as far as Cape INIay, an occasional " Boh
White" may be heard, and in the neighbourhood of Phi-
ladelphia, and counties adjacent, as well as other States,
this bird is also heard.

I was informed that a gentleman, during the latter part
of this spring, who was standing in front of his house,
which borders the river Delaware, a few miles above this city,
observed some unusual appearance in the water, and seem-
ed like a number of rats swimming to the shore; on approach-

ing the spot, however, he discovered it to be a covey of
quails, which had, no doubt, attempted to pass from Jersey
to Pennsylvania, but, by reason of the width of the river,
they were unable to do so, and settling in the water, were
obliged to make up the deficiency in their flight by swim-
ming; through wet and fatigue they were nearly exhausted,
but a few minutes rest recruited their strength, and enabled
them to continue their migration.

This circumstance, in some measure, accounts for the
reason, why, during harvest, and until the middle of Sep-
tember, the region about Philadelphia has hitherto been
so plentifully sprinkled with coveys of quails — for, being
of a rich soil, and aflbrding abundant food, it invites the
migration of these birds from New Jersey, and which
remain with us until the farmers plough their ground again
for the winter's grain, when the means of subsistence being
in a great measure destroyed, they commence running
until the Delaware impedes their progress, over which
they fly in accumulated numbers, to spend the winter in
Jersey; the soil of the latter place not being able to sus-
tain the same degree of cultivation as the former, much
food and cover for the quails consequently remain, and
hither they resort until the subsequent spring. M.

Philada. June 27, 1831.

SHOOTING MATCH.

Ax interesting Pigeon match, for Five Hundred Dollars
a side, was decided on Wednesday, June 22d, 1S31, at
Cornell's near Bristol, Pa. The parties were Messrs.
T. P. G. and J. L., of Philadelphia, against Dr. G. W.
and JMr. H. S., of New Jersey. Each person shot at
twenty birds, twenty yards from the trap, and stood as
follows:

INIr. T. P. G. .

Mr. J. L 19 JMr. H. S.

34 32

Being won by the former party by two birds.

The Shooting was represented to have been very fine;
each person shooting, in his turn, at five birds, until the
twenty shots were accomplished. ]\Ir. J. L. killed his
first seventeen birds, missed the eighteenth, and killed the
other two birds, making the nineteen killed.

Mr. H. S. counted only 15 birds, but 19 were killed by
him, the other 4 having fallen dead out of bounds.

The Jersey gentlemen challenged the successful party to
a second trial, on a future day, but the challenge was de-
clined.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

BUFFALO HUNT.

We set out on the 24th July from Lake Travers, of
which we took leave witli a salute of musketry; this same
day the buffaloes made their appearance. My horse gave
notice of their approach by the ardour with which he was
animated. He was the finest horse of the party, and as I
had often dismounted and walked a little to rest him, he
was in the best condition, and the most spirited in this extra-
ordinary chase.

Following the traces of Mr. Renville, who is renowned
as a hunter, even among the Indians, I gave my horse the
reins, and let him go in pursuit of the first bufialo we saw.
I soon came up with and passed him, though he was two
miles ofi', and having turned him, we drove him towards our
people, to give them the pleasure of so new a scene, and I
shot him before their eyes. At the same time, Mr. Yef-
fray, one of the gentlemen of Lake Travers, who was our
guide, killed another at a little distance; and in the even-
ing the driver, who carried my baggage in his wagon,
brought us a third. For the first time, plenty reigned in
our camp; — there was no wood, but the buSalo's dung,
which lay scattered about in abundance, formed an admira-
ble substitute. It makes an astonishingly strong fire.

The surprise I felt on a near view of this animal was
equal to my pleasure in hunting it; its appearance is truly
formidable. In size it approaches the elephant. Its flow-
ing mane, and the long hair which covers its neck and
head, and falls over its eyes, are like those of the lion. It
has a hump like a camel, its hind quarters and tail are like
those of the hippopotamus, its horns like those of the large
goat of the Rocky Mountains, and its legs like those of
an ox.

The following day we found the great chief encamped in
this prairie, near the Sioux river, Ciantapa-Watpa, which
serves as an outlet to the waters of Lake Travers. He was
in a new and very clean tent; he offered us the tongues and
humps of buffaloes, which are great delicacies, very nicely
cured; but he preserved a most invincible gravity and taci-
turnity. Whenever we turned our eyes, we saw innume-
rable herds of buffaloes. I begged the major to endeavour
to induce the chief to give us the sight of a buffalo hunt with
bows and arrows, but he replied, with his usual com-
plaisance, that he could not stop.

I let him go on: and Mr. Renville prevailed on the
chief to satisfy my curiosity. We galloped towards a
meadow which was perfectly black with them. My horse,
who now regarded neither rein nor voice, plunged into the
centre of the herd, dividing it into halves, and turned seve-
ral of them. The chief, who followed me with Mr. Ren-
ville, let fly his arrow and shot a female buffalo; she still
endeavoured to escape, but the motion of her body in run-

ning caused the arrow to sink deeper into the wound, and
when she fell the whole barb had entered.

Never did I see attitudes so graceful as those of the chief.
They alternately reminded me of the equestrian statue of
INIarcus Aurelius on the capitol at Naples, and that of the
great Numidian king. Altogether it was the most astonishing
spectacle I ever saw. I thought I beheld the games and com-
bats of the ancients. I played nearly the same part as the
Indians of former ages, who thought the first European they
saw on horseback was a being of a superior order; while
the chief with his quiver, his horse, and his victim, formed
a group worthy the pencil of Raphael or the chisel of
Canova. I was so enchanted by this living model of classi-
cal beauty, that I forgot my part in the chase, and was only
aroused to a recollection of it b}' the voice of the chief, who
pointed to a young buffalo, which I fired at and killed.
His majesty did me the honour to say I was an excellent
shot. Any of our grands veneurs who should receive
such a compliment from one of our kings, would be immor-
talized, and the court poets would dispute the honour of
celebrating his glories. Mr. Renville killed a buffalo.

Wolves also appeared on the scene, and formed very
curious episodes, intimately connected with the principal
action, according to all the rules of the Epopea.

These animals are as fond of the delicious flesh of the
buffalo as man; but as they are too weak to attack, they
employ cunning to entrap him. Wherever they see hun-
ters, they immediately follow in their track, and take what-
ever advantage circumstances may chance to afford. Some-
times they regale themselves upon the offal which is left on
the field; sometimes they follow those which they see have
been wounded, and which the hunters do not go in pursuit
of; on this occasion they showed quite a new contrivance.
Three of them joined our charge upon the great herd, and
at the moment the females were so occupied in making
their own escape that they could not defend their young
ones, each wolf seized upon a calf, strangled it, and dragged
it off the field: when we had got to a little distance they
returned and regaled themselves with their prey. When
they are pressed by hunger, and no hunters come to their
aid, they have recourse to another stratagem still more sur-
prising. They approach five or six of a herd without
appearing to have any design of attacking them. The buf-
faloes, who do not condescend to be afraid, pay no attention
to them whatever — they neither avoid nor attack them.
The wolves then single out their victim, which is always a
female, as the most delicious food, and invariably the fattest
of the herd. Whilst two or three keep her attention en-
gaged in front by pretending to play with her, one of the
strongest and most active seizes her behind by the teats, and
when she turns round to drive him off, those in front fly at
her throat and strangle her. — Beltrami.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

GROUND SQUIRREL.
SCIURUS (TJl MIJl S) L YS TE RI.

[Plate XV.]

Sciurus Lysteri. — Rat, Sytiops. Quad. 216. — Sciurus
Striatus. Klein, Pull. Glires, 378. — Gjiel. Schreb.
tab. 221. — Sciurus Carolinensis, Briss. Eeg. Jin. 15.5.
No. 9. — Ecureuil Suisse. — Desm. 339, 5 p. 547.— Es-
curieux Suisses. — Sugar d-Theodat, Cunuda, P. 746.
Ground Squirrel, Lawsox, Carolina, P. 124. — Cates-
by, Carol. Vol. 2. p. 75.— Edwards, Vol. 4, t. ISl.
Kalm, Vol. I. p. 322. L i. — Godman, Vol. 2. p. 142.
Striped Dormouse, Pennant — .^rct. Zool. Vol. 1. p.
126. — Hackee, United States. — J. Doughty's Collec-
tion.

The beautiful little animal whose biography and descrip-
tion we are about relating, is known to most of the inabi-
tants of the United States, being found in all districts of
the country, as far north as the 50th parallel; its chief ha-
bitation, however, appears to be in the vicinage of man,
although numbers may be seen on the shores of Lakes Hu-
ron and Superior. It is the first wild animal which at-
tracts the notice of infancy, who grow to manhood with
so intimate an acquaintance with it, that it is unnoticed
either for its beauty, or interesting habits, because familiari-
ty has made it common ; but in a minute investigation of
its habits and properties, its beauties are more fully deve-
loped, and a close investigation of its foresight, and appa-
rent wisdom, will lead us to admire an animal from which
important instruction may be derived.

Associated with the Ground Squirrel, are many pleasing
little reminiscenses, it recalls the mature mind to days
of boyhood, when that period was often wasted in the idle
enjoyment of persecuting this common inhabitant of the
wood, when hours and days were spent in almost fruitless
exertion to make it prisoner, when the country schoolboy
exhausted his truant hours, in more severe labour by chas-
ing from fence to fence, or from tree to tree, this active
animal — than days of study would create, and when the
rambles by the brook's margin, or through the lonely
wood, were mostly enlivened by the spirited chirping of
the Ground Squirrel.

Often, too, in the solitary wilds of our country, where
nature appears almost forsaken of animated life, does the
traveller find a companion in this pretty Squirrel, while it
is passing swiftly from stone to stone, or scudding along the
fences by the road side. These fences, which are commonly
the ziz-zag or worm fences, afibrd them fine shelter from
U u

their enemies, and a secure and regular path for their
fleetness.

The favourite places of resort for the Ground Squirrel
are woods embedded with rocks and stones, the margin of
shaded brooks or creeks, along fences, old walls, and banks
adjacent to forests. They live in the ground, and their
burrows, are mostly at the foot of stumps or trees, and be-
side rocks, extending to a considerable distance beneath
the surface, having several branches from the principal pas-
sage, each of which is terminated by a store-house for their
winter supplies; and, as they feed on the various kinds of
nuts, the products of our forests, they deposit each in a se-
parate cell, accumulating, through the summer and autumn,
a most incredible quantity of provisions for the emergencies
of winter. This provident store is never impaired, until
the severities of the climate confines them to their burrows.
During the summer season, they eat corn, wheat, rye,
cherry-stones, acorns, &c. Their favourite food, however,
is chesnuts, and in forests where these trees abound, num-
bers of these animals may always be found. Their bur-
rows frequently possess two entrances, to afford them
either a more easy access to their cells, or to escape more
readily from their enemies.

These animals are seldom seen on trees, unless driven
there for refuge, but may be found at all hours of the day,
during the warm weather, sitting on the summit of some
rock, stump, or fence, in a manner as represented in the
plate, where, if unmolested, they will remain for hours,
whistling and chattering away the tedium of a summer's day,
making so much noise as to be heard from the most re-
mote recess of the wood. Should they be intruded on at
this period, their noise will cease, and after a short pause,
watching the progress of the intruder, they will glide ra-
pidly into their holes, with a shrill cry or whistle peculiar
to this action. They are timid animals, and seldom wan-
der far from their burrows, except in search of food, and,
as the early morning and late evening are devoted to this
purpose, it requires much wariness in the pursuer to sur-
prise them, and if successful in doing this, they will then
ascend the nearest trees, which, if somewhat detached from
other trees, they are frequently captured. They are con-
sidered the most untameable of their species, and can sel-
dom be reduced to familiarity, but will generally bite their
keeper, and survive only a short time, if imprisoned.

These Squirrels never migrate, but, if undisturbed, keep
possession of the same tenements, year after year during
the short period of their existence, and in the first open
weather of spring, they disincumber their habitations of
all rubbish, preparatory to gathering in the harvest for the
next winter; then may found at the mouths of their bur-
rows, the shells of hickory, beach, and chesnuts, acorns,

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

cherry-stones, &c. these, as had been before stated, forni
their principal food, and while it lasts, they will not for-
sake their burrows, unless by protracted cold weather,
they completely exhaust their store of provisions, and are
of necessity compelled to leave their habitations to seek
further supplies, in which case they resort to granaries and
barns, and, if possible, to places where fruits have been
stored. Something remarkable in tlie character of these
Squirrels is their large cheeks, which are capable of being
distended to a considerable extent, and in which they carry
their food to their habitations; differing in this respect from
most other Squirrels; they are classed by some with the
subgenus Tamias. A celebrated writer observes, that
"during harvest they fill their mouths so full with corn
that their cheeks are quite distended, and in this manner,
carry it to their concealed store. They give great prefer-
ence to certain kinds of food; and, if, after filling their
mouths with rye, they chance to meet with wheat, they
discharge the one that they may secure the other."

The Ground Squirrel is about six inches in length from
the nose to the root of the tail, which is about three and a
half inches long. The general colour of the head and up-
per parts of the body is reddish brown; all the hairs on
these parts being grey at the base. The eye-lids are whitish,
and from the external angles of each eye a dark line towards
the nose and cars, while on each cheek there is a reddish
brown line. The short, rounded ears are covered with fine
hairs, which are on their outside of a reddish brown colour,
and within of a whitish gra}', the upper part of the neck,
shoulders, and base of the hair on the back, are of a grey
brown, mingled with whitish. On the back there are five
longitudinal black bands, which are at their posterior parts
bordered slightly with red. The middle one begins at the
back of the head, the two lateral ones on the shoulders;
they all terminate at the rump, whose colour is red. On
each side two white separate the lateral black bands. The
lower part of the flanks and sides of the neck are of a paler
red; the exterior of the fore-feet is of a gre3'ish yellow, the
thighs and hind-feet are red above. The fur, covering the
throat, chin, belly, and inner surface of the extremities, is
longer and thinner than that on the dorsal aspect, and is
white throughout its whole length. There is no defined
line of separation betwixt the colours of the back and belly.
The tail is not bushy, and is brown for a small space at its
root, afterwards greyish approaching to black on its upper
surface, the black hairs predominating over the whitish
ones, underneath it is reddish brown with a margin of
hoary black. Eyes large and black, ears ovate, rounded
and erect, whiskers long, fine, and of a black colour. There
are also several long black hairs springing upwards from the
eye-brows. The fore-feet have four toes, and an imperfect

thumb, the palm is marked with five tubercles, three of
which are situated at the root of the toes, and two larger
ones behind, on the inner side of one of these there is a
minute wart in place of a thumb, entirely covered by a
thin, roundish nail; the claws are curved, compressed and
sharp pointed, convex above and channelled underneath.
There are five toes on the hind feet; the three middle ones
nearly of equal length, the outer and inner ones shorter;
the hind part of the soles hairy.

PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR.

Just before sun-down, we described something on the
main opposite Grand island, and near the point of the
Detour. On approaching it, it turned out to be one of
those formations which are so common on these shores. It
was a perfect vase. Mr. Lewis took an exact sketch of
it. Its base is in yellow sand stone, which is six feet above
the water of the lake. It stands about two miles west of
the point opposite the south-western side of Grand island.
The colour of the vase is nearly that of white sand stone,
a little shaded in places with yellow. Its stem is about
five feet high, and the body of the vase about twelve feet,
with dimensions in all respects exactly adapted to these
elevations. The trees that rise out of it are the fir, and
their height is about ten feet. Evergreen and the aspen
form the back ground.

The sun was down when we arrived at Grand island.
We made several attempts to land on the main, but found
no good encamping place. Our company were yet behind.
We continued on. The moon shone brightly, and the
surface of the water was undisturbed and pure, except by
the motion imparted to it by our canoe.

" Blue were the waters — blue the sky,
Spreads like an ocean hung on high,
Bespangled with those isles of light.
So wildly spiritually bright."

Lewis, whose voice is fine, added additional enchant-
ment to the scene by singing some of his favourite airs.

We had thoughts of proceeding on to the point of Grand
island, where we had breakfasted on our way up, but by
the light of the moon we saw a beautiful encamping place
on the island, about four miles from it, and as it was grown
late, we determined to occupy it. Our men rounded the
point, and occupied one of the prettiest encamping grounds
I have seen, except that on Point Ke-we-wa-na. Gover-
nor Cass and the party arrived in half an hour after, and
stopped on the point, about four hundred yards from us.
Guns were fired from the trading post on the main, the
same we visited on going up, and found deserted, and a

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

fire lit upon the shore — the usual signals, and imports a
welcome and a good landing, &.C. Those of our party we
had sent for the copper rock were there; and hearing the
voyageurs in the Governor's canoe, built the fire, and fired
the guns. They came over — and late as it was, we learn-
ed more, in detail, the history of their attempt, and failure,
to bring away the copper rock. How much I regret this
failure! Thermometer, sun-down, 68°.

Thursday, ^ug- 17. T. sun-rise, 58°. — I was anxious
to know how the morning would appear. The pictured rocks
were now, at the commencement, not over six miles from
us: and having procured a sketch of the vase, I was more
than ever anxious to get also the outlines of those mightier
formations. The morning was cloudy! The west looked
black, and a wind from that quarter would have efi'ectually
destroyed all my hopes of getting the sketches of the rocks.
We determined, however, to embark, and wait the result
of this tempest — gathering in the west, on the south side
of Grand island. JNIeanwhile, I examined the encamping
ground. Near our tent I found the frame of a large lodge,
and just back of it, the kind of frame on which the Indians
dry their fish. It is built over a square hole in the ground,
of about six feet by three, where the fire is built. Near
the lodge was a pole of about thirty feet high. At its
top hung some badges of the superstition of these people.
It was an offering for their sick! From those offerings, we
inferred a child had been the subject of their anxieties.
Near the top of the pole is a small cap, suspended by a small
string — to which is attached, also, a strip of fur. Below
these is a little child's covering, not more than ten inches
by twelve, with no sleeves, with a feather from the wing
of a hawk suspended from near the shoulder-straps. Be-
low, there is a piece of red and white ribband, and ten feet
below all, hangs a small hoop, tied round with wattap,
which confines to it a parcel of white feathers.

Now, all this is said to have been devised by their Jossa-
keed, or conjurer — or their Maakudaytveckoovyga, or
priest; and such offerings are generally the result of some
dream, or of some more systematized plan of imposing
upon the credulity of these unenlightened and helpless
people.

At six o'clock in the morning, we were opposite the first
formation of the line of the rocky and pictured scenery. I
have had some views taken that I think will be interest-
ing. The first is an urn and a monument, with a stream of
water running into the lake from between them. This
stream is nearly equi-distant, between the two, but some-
thing nearer the monument. The urn is about sixty feet
in circumference, and of the most exact proportions as to
height and figure. Its pedestal, or base, rests upon yellow
sand-stone, and not more than ten feet from the water's

edge, and nearly on a line with it. The pitch of the stream
is about twenty feet, and in width, it is about six feet. The
monument stands about thirty feet back of a line drawn
from the urn and along the margin of the lake. It is par-
tially hid with trees. It rises out of a grove, and looks
like a sacred place, and just such as we would fancy a mo-
nument would appear in. The urn and monument are dis-
tant from each other about one hundred yards.

It will not do for me to indulge in any reflections on this
singular sepulchral arrangement; or to question nature as
to these designs. Here is the urn, the naiad, and the mo-
nument; and art might profit by a view of their construc-
tion and arrangement. The views taken of them are in
all respects correct.

I noticed in a general way the appearance of the Pic-
tured rocks, on coming up. I shall now only refer to
those parts of them which I have had sketched.

The next point which struck my observation with most
force, was what I have called Castle rock. After Mr.
Lewis had sketched this wonderful mass of singular and
fortification-like arrangement, which is about three hun-
dred feet high, and one hundred and fifty wide, which he
did from some hundred yards in the lake, we approached
it. We had got within about fifty feet of its base, when,
on looking up, we found ourselves under the drip from its
edges above — proceeding further in. I saw mj^ men look-
ing up, and apparently shrinking from its projecting sides.
They inquired where I wished to go ? I told them, into
that largest opening. " Mon Dieuf they exclaimed, and
INIr.* L. begged that we might go back. I wished to look
into this opening, and did so. I confess I felt something
horror struck, for in addition to the projecting walls, which
are of sand-stone, and crumble at the touch, the sounds that
came out of these apertures were most unearthly! One of
the men got out of the canoe, and sat in a recess just in
front of the opening.

This opening is about forty feet wide, and ten deep. On
the right, a circular passage way winds into the body of
the rock, with a roof of thirty feet, supported on pillars,
averaging about twelve inches in circumference, but the
length of the canoe prevented my winding my way into
this inner world. After surveying this recess for half an
hour, numerous fish swimming beneath us, and becoming
familiarized to the danger, we came out and continued
down the coast of similar formations, but all varying, for
about five miles, when we came to that which I call
Cave rock. This we approached also, and found the tops
to overhang in all the threatening postures of the first.
Near this, and connected with it, and on the right, is a
pile of ruins, which are the remains of one of these im-
mense formations, that having been undermined by the ac-

172

tion of the waters, had tumbled down, and no doubt agi-
tated the lake for miles around.

This view, gives some ideas of the continuation of this
rock-bound shore, in the sections of which the walls are
formed. All along the cornice of these rocks the colour
is white, and stained with brown, as if by time, and the
action of the elements; and here and there huge fragments
are broken off as if by the same agents. Their bases are
uniformly, or nearly so, of yellow sand stone. The whole,
looks like the work of art; and as if, I have before said,
giants had been the workmen.

The Governor, on parting from me in the morning, bade
me, very formally, farewell — said he was very sorry to
leave me, but that we should meet at the Sault. There I
expected myself I should have the pleasure of seeing him,
and not before. I knew these sketches must occupy Mr.
Lewis for some time; and so made my mind up to have
a lonely voyage to the St. INIary's.

Sun-set brought us to the Grand Marais, having come
sixty miles to-day. We encamped on the same spot where
our tent was pitched in going up, and now, doubtless, for
the last time. We are at least twenty miles behind the
Governor and our party — and perhaps one hundred in ad-
vance of the militar}'. About nine miles from the Grand
Marais passed some Indians encamping for the night. Got
some fish of them; and gave them in exchange pork and
flour. The chief came wading into the lake, holding out
his hand, saying, " Boo-Shoo — Boo-Shoo," — and on re-
ceiving the pork and flour, was confounded at his unex-
pected good luck, and seemed grateful. Thermometer,
sun-down, 66°.

The moon is at her full. The stars are nearly all quench-
ed in her unusual splendour. The firmament looks like
one vast mirror, and this lovely bay resembles it. It would
be difficult, from the appearance, to determine which is the
original, and which the reflection. On landing, I walked
down on the bar, where, on going up, we had exercised
ourselves so freely. But the evening — the varied and
golden light in the west, and the full moon, silent, and
silvery, and bright, and thoughts of home absorbed my
reflections — and here it was I felt all the force and beauty
of the following lines: —

'•■ The moon is up, and yet il is not night—
Sun-set divides the day with her— a sea
Of glory streams along the Alpine height —

Heaven is free
From clouds, but of all colours seem to be
Melted to one vast Iris of the west,
Where the day joins the past eternity.
While on the other hand, meek Dian's crest
Floats through the azure air.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

Yon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains,
Fill'd with the face of heav'n, which, from afar
Comes down upon the waters ; all its hues,
From the rich sun-set to the rising star.
Their magical variety diffuse:
And now they change ; a paler shadow strews
Its mantle o'er the mountains 3 parting day
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues

With E
Thel

lain

grr.y.

A single star is at her side, and reigns
With her o'er half the lovely heav'n ;

While contemplating the stillness, and wrapt in the sil-
very mantle of this night-scenery, I heard a footstep — on
looking round, I recognized it to be one of my men — the
steersman. "Sir," said he, "I have come to say, that if
it is your pleasure, now that we have eaten and rested, we
are willing to go on — the night is bright, and we will make
your pallet in the canoe." 1 assented, when the canoe was
soon in the water, the tent down, the pallet that had been
spread, rolled up, and in half an hour, and at ten o'clock,
we were going out of this bay, and gliding over the surf of
the lake as it broke upon the beach. The stillness which I
had been enjoying, was broken by the chaunting of the
voyageurs. I stretched myself down on my pallet, that
was unrolled and spread out on the bottom of the canoe,
and pulling my blankets over me, went to sleep. Thermo-
meter, sun-rise, 58°.

Friday, ^dugust I8th. — The voyageurs have been gra-
tified. Their object was to overtake and pass the Go-
vernor and the rest of the company whilst they slept. At
half past one, the entire silence awaking me, I lifted my
head, and looking out, saw five barges drawn up on the
shore, and the smoke of the fires at which the company had
cooked their evening repast; and at three, the provision
barges, and those who had been despatched to the Onta-
nagon, and who also got ahead of me whilst I was delayed
before the Pictured rocks, and just beyond, at Twin river,
the Governor, Mr. Holliday, and Mr. Johnson. I had got
into a doze again, but every thing becoming so perfectly
still, I was awakened, and looking out, saw the tents, and
that all was silent. We passed them all, and continued on
to White-fish point, where we breakfasted. Just as we had
embarked, after breakfast, we saw in the distance the lit-
tle fleet. I soon discovered the determination of the voy-
ageurs was to make the entire traverse of this immense
bay, from TFhite-Jish, to Gross point. It is true, the
morning was calm ; but there is danger in the undertak-
ing, and it is never attempted but under the fairest prospects.
We had proceeded but about one-third of the way, when
the wind breezed up, and fortunately for us, it was fair.
We put our sail, and scudded before it. When two-
thirds of the way across, we saw, by standing up in the
canoe, the boats following — their sails just visible. We

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

had got within ten miles of Gross cape when the wind
rose into a storm. The waves were making, fast, when
the paddles were resorted to, which, together with the
wind, forced us under the shelter of Gross point just in
time. We feared for our company, but keeping on, and now
in calmer water upon the river St. Mary, and at three
o'clock, I bade, perhaps, a final farewell to Lake Superior,
and its billowy and changeful surface; its moon-light scene-
ry; its broken and barren shores; its Grand Sables; its Pic-
tured rocks; its islands, and its solitude. I felt grateful
for the protection I had experienced, and for the safety of
all concerned; and gratified at having been made able to
feed the hungry, and to assist in planning measures which
we hope may prove in future a source of supplies, in part,
at least, for the miserable and starving beings among whom
we have been.

At five o'clock arrived at the Sault de St. Marie. It
was our intention to go down the rapids, but our voyageurs
dissuaded us from it, assuring us that the canoe was too
deep, and that none of the crew knew the way well enough
to avoid, with certainty, the rocks which are no where
more than a few feet beneath the surface of the foam of the
rapids.

We entered by the way of the race which had been cut
by the soldiers to let in the water for a saw mill, which has
been destroj-ed by fire since we left here; and at five, p. m.
had the gratification of being once more in a place where
the rights of hospitality had been extended to us; and al-
though it is only on the threshold of civilized life, so great
was the change from solitude to it, that I felt on seeing
these few log houses covered with bark, and the fort,
and the faces of the inhabitants, as if I had entered a popu-
lous town. We were scarcely in our quarters before the

landlady, Mrs. H , announced the deaths of John

Adams and Thomas Jefferson, and handed us the papers
which teem with the feelings, and reflections, and honours
of the people, on an occasion so unexampled!

In an hour after our arrival, the Governor and Mr. Hol-
liday were seen careering it over the rapids, and flying by
us. They were surprised on seeing us, having passed us
at Grand island, and not expecting our arrival, at least, un-
til to-morrow. Tour to the Lakes.

HOW SPIDERS EFFECT THEIR AERIAL EXCURSIONS.

By John Blackwell, Esq. F. L. S.

Although it is well known that spiders sometimes as-
cend into the atmosphere through the instrumentality of
fine lines of a viscous gummy matter, which proceed from
X X

the papilla; situated at the extremity of the abdomen, yet
the manner in which these aerial jonrneys are effected
still remains involved in obscurit}', and considerable diver-
sity of opinion exists as to the particular species of spider
by which they are undertaken. This deficiency leaves
open a wide field for speculation; and accordingly we find,
that natural historians have ascribed this interesting occur-
rence to several distinct causes, — such as the agency of
winds, evaporation, and electricity: the exercise of pecu-
liar physical powers, with which the spiders that produce
gossamer have been supposed to be endowed; and the ex-
treme levity of the webs of these insects, which are repre-
sented by some writers on the subject to be of less specific
gravity than atmosphere air : but that each of these hypo-
theses is unfounded, and in direct opposition to facts, will
be rendered evident by the following observations and ex-
periments, from which a satisfactory solution of the diffi-
culty, it is hoped, will be obtained.

That gossamer, which usually abounds most in the months
of September and October, is perceived to ascend into the
atmosphere only in serene bright weather, is, I believe,
generally allowed: it is also admitted, the gossamer in the
air is invariably preceded by gossamer on the ground.
These, as will appear in the sequel, are circumstances of
much importance in the present investigation; every me-
thod of accounting for the ascent of the webs and spiders,
however plausible, which does not imply their concurrence,
being necessarily erroneous.

But to proceed to my own researches: — A little before
noon on the 1st of October, 1S26, which was a remarkably
calm sunny daj', the thermometer in the shade ranging
from 55°-5 to 64°, I observed that the fields and hedges in
the neighbourhood of Manchester were covered over, by
the united labours of an immense multitude of spiders, with
a profusion of fine shining lines, intersecting one another
at every angle, and forming a confused kind of net-work.
So extremely numerous were these slender filaments, that in
walking across a small pasture my feet and ankles were
thickly coated with them: it was evident, however, not-
withstanding their great abundance, that they must have
been produced in a very short space of time, as early in
the morning they were not sufficiently conspicuous to at-
tract my notice; and on the 30th of September they could
not have existed at all; for on my referring to my me-
teorological journal, I find that a strong gale from the
south prevailed during the greater part of that day.

A circumstance so extraordinary could not fail to excite
curiosity; but what more particularly arrested my atten-
tion was the ascent of an amazing quantity of webs of an
irregular complicated structure, resembling ravelled silk of
the finest quality and clearest white. They were of various

174

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

shapes and dimensions, some of the largest measuring up-
wards of a yard in length, and several inches in breadth in
the widest part; while others were almost as broad as long,
presenting an area of a few square inches only.

These webs, it was quickly perceived, were not formed
in the air, as is generally believed, but at the earth's sur-
face. The lines of which they were composed being
brought into contact by the mechanical action of gentle
airs, adhered together, till by continual additions they were
accumulated into flakes or masses of considerable magni-
tude, on which the ascending current, occasioned by the
rarefaction of the air contiguous to the heated ground, acted
with so much force as to separate them from the objects
to which they were attached, raising them in the atmos-
phere to a perpendicular height of at least several hun-
dred feet. I collected a number of these webs about mid-
day as they rose, and again in the afternoon, when the up-
ward current had ceased and they were falling, but scarce-
ly one in twenty contained a spider; though on minute in-
spection I found small winged insects; chiefly aphides, en-
tangled in most of them.

From contemplating this unusual display of gossamer,
my thoughts were naturally directed to the animals which
produced it ; and the countless myriads in which they
swarmed almost created as much surprise as the singular
occupation that engrossed them. Apparently actuated by
the same impulse, all were intent upon traversing the re-
gions of air; accordingl}-, after gaining the summits of va-
rious objects, as blades of grass, stubble, rails, gates, &c.,
by the slow and laborious process of climbing, they raised
themselves still higher by straightening their limbs; and
elevating the abdomen, by bringing it from the usual ho-
rizontal position into one almost perpendicular, they emitted
from their spinning-apparatus a small quantity of the glu-
tinous secretion with which they construct their webs. This
viscous substance being drawn out by the ascending cur-
rent of rarefied air into fine lines several feet in length,
was carried upward, until the spiders feeling themselves
acted upon with sufficient force in that direction, quitted
their hold of the objects on which they stood, and com-
menced their journey by mounting aloft.

Whenever the lines became indequate to the purpose for
which they were intended, by adhering to any fixed body,
they were immediately detached from the spinners, and so
converted into terrestrial gossamer by means of the last
pair of legs, and the proceedings just described were re-
peated; which plainly proves that these operations result
from a strong desire felt by the insects to efiect an ascent.
But what, it may be asked, is the exciting cause of this
singular propensity. It has been suggested that hunger,

or an inclination to procure some favourite kind of food,
may supply the requisite stimulus. These suppositions,
however, are discountenanced by the plump appearance
which the animals exhibit; by their total disregard of such
winged insects as happen to be placed within their power;
by their utter inability to regulate their motions, while
afloat, in any other manner than by letting out or drawing
in the lines by which they are conveyed through the air,
and thus promoting their ascent or descent; by the unsuita-
bleness of the lines for securing their prey; and lastly, by
the uncertainty when a favourite day for their purpose may
occur, or even that one may occur at all.

Were I to hazard a conjecture on the subject, I should
be disposed to attribute the manifest anxiety of these in-
sects to change their quarters, to a feeling of insecurity oc-
casioned by their proximity to one another; — the prodi-
gious numbers which in favourable seasons are usually con-
gregated together afi"ording the more powerful individuals
an opportunity, seldom neglected by these voracious crea-
tures, of making an easy prey of the weaker: and this opi-
nion is strengthened, if not confirmed, by the fact, that
they are chiefly animals which have not arrived at maturi-
ty that undertake their migrations.

I have asserted, that when the spiders which produce
gossamer perform their aerial journeys, they are borne
upward by an ascending current of rarefied air acting on
the slender lines which proceed from their spinners. I
shall now endeavour to prove that this curious atmosphe-
rical phenomenon, which well deserves the attention of
meteorologists, afibrds them the only available means of
accomplishing their object; and that the hypotheses pre-
viously adverted to are quite irreconcileable with facts, and
consequently must be erroneous.

It has been already stated, that gossamer is never seen
floating in the air except in calm sunny weather; its buoy-
ancy, therefore, evidently does not depend upon the agency
of winds, usually so called: indeed it is probable that winds
never do take an upward direction, unless influenced by
some extraordinary circumstance or local peculiarity; the
ascent of gossamer, on the contrary, is frequently observ-
ed to take place over a great extent of country on the same
day. It was noticed on the 1st of October, for example,
in England, Wales, and Ireland.

If a satisfactory explanation of this interesting fact can-
not be derived from the operation of winds, it is still less
likely to be deduced from the action of evaporation or elec-
tricity; for, not to insist upon the probable, I had almost
said absolute, insufficiency of these powers considered as
agents, experiments show that the spiders do not select
those periods for making an ascent when the evaporating

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

force is unusually great, or the electricity of the atmos-
phere is remarkable for its intensity.

But though each of the alleged causes just adverted to
appears incompetent to produce the required effect, yet one
abundantly adequate may perhaps be found in the physical
endowments of the animals themselves, or in the extreme
lightness of their webs: these two last-named suppositions
therefore merit a careful examination.

If the spiders do impel their lines upward by the volun-
tary exercise of some animal function which has hitherto
eluded the researches of physiologists, it follows, that when
the communication is interrupted, the lines, unless influ-
enced by some other force, must necessarily fall. Now the
reverse of this uniformly ensues: for if the insects, after
having commenced their ascent, are suddenly separated
from the lines to which they are attached, the latter still
continue to ascend, their motion being accelerated by their
diminished gravity, but the former are rapidly precipitated
to the ground. The conclusion is obvious. The buoyancy
of the lines cannot be occasioned by the beings which pro-
duce them; and the ascent of large flakes of web unoccupied
by spiders, before alluded to, confirms this opinion.

Perhaps the buoyance of lines from which spiders have
been detached, and of webs although destitute of these in-
sects, may be regarded as facts powerfully contributing to
establish the idea that this animal secretion is specifically
lighter than the mixed gases which compose the atmos-
phere. The fallacy of this notion, however, is easily proved
by experiment. In the comparatively still air of a room
without fire, both the lines and webs descend slowly to the
floor, the latter falling with the greater degree of velocity.

Were these productions lighter than atmospheric air, or
were the spiders capable of effecting an ascent without the
help of adventitious aid, a calm though cloudy daj^ might
answer their purpose; but as considerable warmth is re-
quired to produce an ascending current of rarefied air
strong enough to bear them from the earth, a bright as well
as still day is indispensable.

Founded on results obtained from an experiment which
has been frequently made, but never conducted with suffi-
cient care, is the belief entertained by many eminent en-
tomologists that spiders can forcibly propel or dart out
threads from their papillae. Now as this process would,
contrary to my own experience, imply the exercise of a
physical power peculiar to these creatures, and as attempts
have been made to explain on this principle the fabrication
of their webs in situations where their ordinary mode of
proceeding could not be employed, 1 determined to repeat
the experiment from which so strange a conclusion has been
deduced. With this view, having procured a small branch-
ed twig, I fixed it upright in an earthen vessel containing

water, its base being immersed in the liquid, and upon it
I placed several of the spiders which produce gossamer.
Whenever the insects thus circumstanced were exposed to
a current of air, either naturally or artificially produced,
they directly turned the thorax towards the quarter whence
it came, even when it was so slight as scarcely to be per-
ceptible, and elevating the abdomen, they emitted from
their spinners a small portion of glutinous matter, which
was instantly carried out in a line, consisting of four finer
ones, with a velocity equal, or nearly so, to that with which
the air moved, as was apparent from observations made on
the motion of detached lines similarly exposed. The spi-
ders, in the next place, carefully ascertained whether their
lines had become firmly attached to any object or not, by
pulling at them with the first pair of legs; a' 1 if the result
was satisfactory, after tightening them surficiently they
made them fast to the twigs; then discharging from their
spinners, which they applied to the spot where they stood,
a little more of their liquid gum, and committing them-
selves to these bridges of their own constructing, they pass-
ed over them in safety, drawing a second line after them as
a security in case the first gave way, and so effected their
escape.

Such was invariably the result when the spiders were
placed where the air was liable to be sensibly agitated: I
resolved therefore to put a bell-glass over them; and in this
situation they remained seventeen days, evidently unable
to produce a single line by which they could quit the
branch they occupied without encountering the water at
its base ; though on the removal of the glass they re-
gained their liberty with as much celerity as in the instances
already recorded.

This experiment, which from a want of due precaution
in its management has misled so many distinguished natu-
ralists, I have tried with several of the geometric spiders,
and always with the same success. Placed under the bell-
glass, or in any close vessel, they in vain endeavoured to
make their escape from the branch to which they were
confined, but in the disturbed air of an inhabited room
they readily accomplished their object.

Instances of long-sustained abstinence from food by in-
sects of the genus Aranea, unaccompanied by any mani-
fest diminution of vital energy, have been given by various
observers. In adding another case to the list it is proper to
remark, that it must be received solely on my own autho-
rity.

Some of the spiders which produce gossamer were procur-
ed on the 2d of October, and inclosed in glass phials with
ground stoppers, where they were suffered to remain till the
lethof December, an interval of seventy-five days, without
either food or moisture; yet at the expiration of that period,

176

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

the only alterations perceptible in their external condition
were a small decrease in bulk, and a slightly wrinkled ap-
pearance, pnrticularly of the abdomen: but their functions
were seemingly unimpaired; for on warm days, or when
excited by artificial heat, they were lively in their mo-
tions, and to the last continued to produce their threads,
which were often destroyed for the purpose of ascertaining
whether they would be replaced by others with apparently
the same facility as at the time of their capture.

It is particularly deserving of notice, that these insects,
though unable to climb up the smooth perpendicular sides
of the phials on their first introduction, soon contrived to
traverse the interior of their prisons in every direction.

In order to illustrate their manner of proceeding on this
occasion, the case of an individual has been selected for de-
scription,— the same method, with a few trivial modifica-
tions, being pursued by all. Elevating the abdomen, and
pressing the spinning-apparatus against the side of the
phial, this spider emitted from its papillae a little viscous
fluid, which on exposure to the air hardened into a minute
semi-transparent speck; then moving to a short distance,
and drawing out a thread after it, one end of which re-
mained fixed to the spot it had connected this filament
with another part of the phial by applying the spinners as
before. Several lines being thus produced, the spider
speedily raising itself upon them above the bottom of the
phial, promoted its undertaking by repeating the process
just described; every step so gained enabling it to carry its
operations still higher.

From the cylindrical figure of the phial, it follows that
all the lines attached to its sides by their extremities, such
as were vertical alone excepted, formed with those sides
chords to arcs of various magnitudes. Lowering itself from
one of these chords to another, and applying the spinners
to each in succession, the spider soon connected the whole
of them together by a line; then ascending again to the
greatest altitude it could attain, and dropping down by a
thread to the bottom of the phial, over which it walked to
the opposite side; it there drew the thread tight and made
it fast, having prevented it from coming in contact with
the glass previously by raising the abdomen a little. To
this oblique line it united others, extending them in differ-
ent directions, till by these means it established a commu-
nication with every part of the phial. As there was some
difficulty in tracing these operations with the unassisted
eye, lenses of the magnifying powers of six and eight were
employed.

The spiders seen ascending into the atmosphere on the
1st of October were of two distinct species; but as the
technical difference of insects has engaged only a small
share of my attention, I shall leave the task of identifying

them to those who are more familar than myself with this
branch of entomology. The subjoined remarks on some
of the characteristics of these insects, which are more con-
veniently illustrated by the pen than the pencil, may serve
to facilitate this object.

One species has four of its eight eyes much larger than
the other four. Two pairs situated in the front or fore-
part of the head are arranged thus °. .° , the relative size of
the dots being nearly the same as that of the eyes. The
other pair of small ones is placed in the upper part of the
head, and on each side of it one of the remaining pair of
large ej'es is seated. The spider has the abdomen rather
depressed; the anterior limbs, which it raises in a menacing
manner when any thing approaches it, are longer than
the posterior ones; and it moves in a lateral direction with
almost as much ease and expedition as it does straight
forward. The largest individuals of this species observed
to be conveyed through the atmosphere by a current of
air acting upon their lines, measured one-sixth of an inch
between the extreme points of the head and abdomen; one-
tenth of an inch across the broadest part of the abdomen;
and weighed about a quarter of a grain.

The second species has also four eyes of a greater magni-
tude than the other four. The arrangement and relative
S'ze of three pair placed in the fore-part of the head may
be thus expressed by dots :..: ; one of the other pair of
large eyes being situated on each side of the head. Spi-
ders of this species have the last pair of legs longer than
the first, and move with great celerity, but rarely in a
lateral direction. They vary considerably in colour, some
being of a much darker hue than others, and these are fre-
quently without the pale longitudinal line which extends
the whole length of the thorax, and sometimes even on
to the abdomen of the lighter-coloured specimens. The
largest individuals seen floating in the air were somewhat
inferior in weight and dimensions to the largest of the pre-
ceding species observed under similar circumstances*.

Trans. Linn. Soc.

' Is this the Aranea dorsalis of the Svstema Katurw, Gmelin's Edit.?

FOUNTAIN TREES.

The Fountain Trees are very extraordinary vegeta-
bles, growing in one of the Canary Islands, and likewise
said to exist in some other places. Of these remarkable
trees, we have the following account in Glasse's History of
the Canary Islands: "There are only three fountains of
water in the whole island of Hiero, where the Fountain
Tree grows. The great cattle are watered at those foun-
tains, and at a place where water distils from the leaves of

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

a tree. Many writers have made mention of this famous
tree, some in such a manner as to make it appear miraculous;
others again positively deny its existence; among whom is
Feyjoo, a modern Spanish critic. But he, and those who
agree with him in this matter, are as much mistaken, as
those who would make it appear miraculous.

" The author of the ' History of the Discovery and Con-
quest of the Canaries,' has given a particular account of this
remarkable vegetable, which I shall here insert at large:
The district in which this tree stands, is called Tigulahe;
near to which, and in the steep rocky ascent that sur-
rounds the whole island, there is a narrow gutter, com-
mencing at the sea, and continuing to the summit of the
cliff, where it is joined with a valley that is terminated by
the sleep front of a rock. On the top of this rock grows a
tree, called in the language of the ancient inhabitants, garse,
or ' sacred tree,' which for many 3-ears has been preserved
sound, fresh, and entire. Its leaves constantly distil such
a quantity of water, as is sufficient to furnish drink to every
living creature in Hiero; nature having provided this
remedy for the drought of the island. Nobody knows of
what species this tree is, only that it is called (ill, and
stands by itself at the distance of a league and a half from
the sea. The circumference is about twelve spans, the
diameter four, and its height from the ground to the top
of the highest branch forty spans. The branches are thick
and extended; the lowest commence about an ell from the
ground; and the circumference of the whole of them is
about a hundred and twenty feet. The fruit resembles an
acorn, and tastes somewhat like the kernel of a pine-apple,
but is softer and more aromatic. The leaves appear like
those of the laurel, but are larger, wider, and more curved:
they come forth in a perpetual succession, so that the tree
always remains green.

" On the north side of this tree are two large tanks, or cis-
terns, of rough stone; or rather, one cistern divided, each
half being twenty feet square, and sixteen spans in breadth.
One of these contains water for the drinking of the inhabi-
tants; and the other that which they use for their cattle and
domestic purposes.

<' Every morning, near this part of the island, a cloud or
mist rises from the sea, which the south and east winds
force against the above-mentioned steep cliff; so that the
cloud having no vent but by the gutter, gradually ascends
it, and from thence advances slowly to the extremity of the
valley, where it is checked by the front of the rock which
terminates the valley. It then rests upon the thick leaves
and wide spreading branches of the tree, from whence it
distils in drops during the remainder of the day, until it is
at length exhausted; in the same manner that we see water
drip from the leaves of trees after a heavy shower of rain.
Yy

This distillation is not peculiar to the garse or till, for
some bresos which grow near it, also drop water; but their
leaves being few and narrow, the quantity is so trifling,
that though the natives catch some of it, yet they make
little account of any but what distils from the garse; which,
together with the water of some fountains, and what is saved
in the winter season, is sufficient to serve them and their
flocks. The tree yields most water in those years when
the easterly winds have prevailed for a continuance; for, by
these winds only, the clouds, or mists, are drawn hither
from the sea.

" A person lives on the spot near which this curious tree
grows, who is appointed to take care of it and its water,
and is allowed a house to live in, together with a certain
salary. He every day distributes to each family in the
district, seven pots of water, besides what he gives to the
principal people of the island."

Whether the tree which yields water at the present time,
be the same as that mentioned in the above description, we
cannot determine; but it is probable there has been a suc-
cession of them; for Pliny, describing the Fortunate
Islands, says, "In the mountains of Ambrion are trees
resembling the plant ferula, from which water may be pro-
cured by pressure. What comes from the black kind is
bitter, but that which the white yields is sweet and
potable."

Trees yielding water, however, are "not peculiar to the
island of Hiero; for travellers inform us of one of the same
kind on the island of St. Thomas, in the Gulf of Guinea;
and in " Cockburn's Voyages," we find the following
account of a dropping tree, near the mountains of Fera Paz,
in America: —

" On the morning of the fourth day, we came out on a
large plain, in the middle of which stood a tree of unusual
size, spreading its branches over a vast compass of ground.
Curiosity led us up to it. We had perceived at some dis-
tance, the ground about it to be wet, at which we were
rather surprised, as well knowing there had no rain fallen
for near six months past, according to the certain course of
the season in that latitude; and that it was impossible to be
occasioned by a fall of dew, we were convinced by the sun's
having power to exhale all moisture of that nature a few
minutes after its rising. At length, to our great amaze-
ment, we saw water dropping, or, as it were distilling,
pretty fast from the end of every leaf of this tree, which
might not improperly be termed miraculous ; at least it
was so with respect to us, who had been labouring four
days through extreme heat, without receiving the least
moisture, and were now almost expiring for want of it.
We could not help looking on this as water sent from
heaven to comfort us under great extremity, and, having

17-8

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

caught what we could of it in our hands, we liked it so
well, that we could hardly prevail with ourselves to give
over drinking.

" A matter of this nature could not but incite us to make
the strictest observations concerning it; and, accordingly,
we staid under the tree about three hours, and found that
we could not fathom its body in five times. We observed
the soil where it grew to be very strong; and, upon the
nicest inquiry we could afterwards make, both of the na-
tives of the country and the Spanish inhabitants, we could
not learn that there was any tree of a similar nature
throughout New Spain, nor perhaps all America over. I
do not, however, relate this as a prodigy in nature; because,
though I am not philosopher enough to ascribe any natural
cause for it, the learned may perhaps be able to give sub-
stantial reason.s, for what to us appeared a great and marvel-
lous secret." Hut ton.

PRECIPITATION OF SALT IN THE MEDITER-
RANEAN.

It is well known, that a powerful current sets con-
stantly from the Atlantic into the Mediterranean, and its
influence extends along the whole southern borders of that
sea, and even to the shores of Asia Minor. Captain Smyth
found, during his survey, that the central current ran con-
stantly at the rate of from three to six miles an hour, east-
ward, into the JNIediterranean, the body of water being
three miles and a half wide. But there are also two lateral
currents — one on the European, and one on the African
side; each of them about two miles and a half broad, and
flowing at about the same rate as the central stream. These
lateral currents ebb and flow with the tide, setting alter-
nately into the Mediterranean and into the Atlantic. The
escape of the great body of water, which is constantly flow-
ing in, has usually been accounted for by evaporation,
which must be very rapid and copious in the Mediterra-
nean; for the winds blowing from the shores of Africa are
hot and dry, and hygrometrical experiments recently made
in Malta and other places, show that the mean quan-
tity of moisture in the air, investing the Mediterranean, is
equal only to one half of that in the atmosphere of England.
It is, however, objected, that evaporation carries away only
fresh water, and that the current is continually bringing in
salt water: why, tiien do not the component parts of the
waters of the Mediterranean vary? or, why do they remain
apparently the same as those of the ocean? Some have
imagined that the excess of salt might be carried away by
an under-current, running in a contrary direction to the
superior; and this hypothesis appeared to receive confirma-
tion from a late discovery that the water taken up about

fifty miles within the Straits, from a depth of six hundred
and seventy fathoms, contained a quantity of salt four
times greater than the water of the surface. Dr. Wollas-
ton, who analysed the water obtained by Captain Smyth,
truly inferred that an under-current of such denser water,
flowing outward, if of equal breadth and depth with the
current near the surface, would carry out as much salt
below as is brought in above, although it moved with less
than one-fourth part of the velocitj', and would thus pre-
vent a perpetual increase of saltness in the Mediterranean
beyond that existing in the Atlantic. It was also remarked
by others, that the result would be the same, if, the swift-
ness being equal, the inferior current had only a fourth of
the volume of the superior. At the same time there
appeared reason to conclude that this great specific gravity
was only acquired by water at immense depths: for two
specimens of the water taken at the distance of some hun-
dred miles from the Straits, and at depths of four hundred,
and even four hundred and fifty fathoms, were found by
Dr. Wollaston not to exceed in density that of many ordi-
nary samples of sea-water. Such being the case, we can
now prove, that the vast amount of salt brought into the
Mediterranean, does not pass out again by the Straits. For
it appears, by Captain Smyth's soundings, which Dr. Wol-
laston had not seen, that between the capes of Trafalgar
and Spartel, which arc twenty-two miles apart, and where
the Straits are shallowest, the deepest part, which is on the
side of Cape Spartel is only two hundred and tioenty
fathoms. It is, therefore, evident, that if water sinks in
certain parts of the Mediterranean, in consequence of the
increase of its specific gravity, to greater depths than two
hundred and twenty fathoms, it can never flow out again
into the Atlantic, since it must be stopped by the submarine
barrier which crosses the narrowest part of the Straits of
Gibraltar.

What, then, becomes of the excess of salt? — for this is
an inquirj^ of the highest geological interest. The Rhone,
the Po, and many hundred minor streams and springs, pour
annually into the Mediterranean, large quantities of carbo-
nate of lime, together with iron, magnesia, silicin, alumina,
sulphur, and other mineral ingredients, in a state of chemi-
cal solution. To explain wiiy the influx of this matter does
not alter the composition of this sea has never been thought
to present a great difficulty ; for it is known that calcareous
rocks are forming in the delta of the Rhone, in the Adriatic,
on the Coast of Asia Minor, and in other localities. Pre-
cipitation is acknowledged to be the means whereby the
surplus mineral matter is disposed of, after the consump-
tion of a certain portion in the secretions of testacea and
zoophytes. But some have imagined that, before muriate
of soda can, in like manner, be precipitated, the whole Me-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

179

diterranean ought to become as much saturated with salt as
the brine-springs of Cheshire, or Lake Aral, or the Dead
Sea. There is, however, an essential diflerence between
these cases ; for the Mediterranean is not only incompara-
bly greater in extent than the two last-mentioned basins,
but its depth is enormous. In the narrowest parts of the
Straits of Gibraltar, where they are about nine miles broad
between the Isle of Tariffa and Alcanzar Point, the depth
varies from one hundred and sixty to five hundred fathoms ;
but between Gibraltar and Ceuta, Captain Smyth sounded
to the extraordinary depth ol nine hundred and fifty fath-
oms ! where he found a gravelly bottom, with fragments of
broken shells. Saussure sounded to the depth of two thou-
sand feet, within a few yards of the shore, at Nice. What
profundity, then, may we not expect some of the central
abysses of this sea to reach ! The evaporation being, as we
before stated, very rapid, the surface water becomes im-
pregnated with a slight excess of salt ; and its specific gravi-
ty being thus increased, it instantly falls to the bottom,
while lighter water rises to the top, or that introduced by
rivers, and by the current from the Atlantic, flows over it.
But the heavier fluid does not merely fall to the bottom, but
flows on till it reaches the lowest part of one of those subma-
rine basins into which we must suppose the bottom of this
inland sea to be divided. By the continuance of this pro-
cess, additional supplies of brine are annually carried to
deep repositories, until the lower strata of water are fully
saturated, and precipitation takes place — not in thin films
such are said to cover the alluvial marshes along the western
shores of the Euxine, not in minute layers, like those of
the salt "etangs" of the Rhone, but on the grandest scale
— continuous masses of pure rock-salt, extending, perhaps,
for hundreds of miles in length, like those in the mountains
of Poland, Hungary, Transylvania, and Spain.**

The Straits of Gibraltar are said to become gradually
wider by the wearing down of the cliffs on each side at
many points ; and the current sets along the coast of Africa

* As lo the existence of an inferior current flowing westward, none of the ex-
periments made iu the late survey, give any countenance whatever to this popu-
lar notion; and it seems most unnecessary to resort to it, not only because the
expenditure of the Mediterranean, by evaporation, must be immense, but because
it is not yet proved that the two lateral currents, which conjointly exceed iu
breadth that of the centre, do not restore the equilibrium, if occasionally dis-
turbed. They ebb and flow with the tide, but they may carry more water to the
west than to the east. The opinion, that in the middle of the Straits the water
returned into the Atlantic by a submarine counter-current, first originated in the
following circumstance. M. Du I'Aigle, commander of a privateer called the
Phoenix, of Marseilles, gave chase to a Dutch merchant ship, near Ceuta Point,
and came up with her in the middle of the gut, between Tarifla and Tangier,
and there gave her one broadside, which directly sunk her. A few days after,
the sunk ship, with her cargo of brandy and oil, arose on the shore near Tan-
gier, which is at least four leagues to the westward of the place where she sunk,
and directly against the strength of the central current. — Phil. Trans., 1724. It
seems obvious, that the ship, in this case, was brought back by one of the lateral
currents; not by an under current.

SO as to cause considerable inroads in various parts, particu-
larly near Carthage. Near the Canopic mouth of the Nile,
at Aboukir, the coast was greatly devastated in the year 17S4,
when a small island was nearly consumed. By a series of
similar operations, the old site of the cities of Nicopolis,
Taposiris, Parva, and Canopus, have become a sandbank.
LydVs Geology.

(ESTRUS EQUI, OR THE HORSE GAD FLY.

When the female of this species has been impregnated,
and the eggs are sufficiently mature, she seeks among the
horses a subject for her purpose ; and approaching it on the
wing, she holds her body nearly upright in the air, and her
tail, which is lengthened for the purpose, curved inwards
and upwards : in this way she approaches the part where
she designs to deposit her egg ; and, suspending herself for
a few seconds before it, suddenly darts upon it, and leaves
her egg adhering to the hair : she hardly appears to settle,
but merely touches the hair with the egg held out on the
projecting point of the abdomen. The egg is made to ad-
here by means of a glutinous liquid secreted with it. She
then leaves the horse at a small distance, and prepares a se-
cond egg, and, poising herself before the part, deposits it
in the same way. The liquor dries, and the egg becomes
firmly glued to the hair : this is repeated by various flies,
till four or five hundred eggs are sometimes placed on one
horse. The horses, when they become used to this fly, and
find that it does them no injury, as theTabani and Conopes,
by sucking their blood, hardly regard it, and do not appear
at all aware of its insidious object. The skin of the horse is
always thrown into a tremulous motion on the touch of this
insect, which merely arises from the very great irritability
of the skin and cutaneous muscles at this season of the year,
occasioned by the continual teasing of the flies, till at length
these muscles act involuntarily on the slightest touch of any
body whatever.

" The inside of the knee is the part on which these flies
are most fond of depositing their eggs, and the next to this,
on the side and back part of the shoulder, and, less frequent-
ly, on the extreme ends of the mane. But it is a fact wortliy
of attention, that the fly does not place them promiscuously
about the body, but constantly on those parts which are
most liable to be licked with the tongue ; and the ova, there-
fore, are always scrupulously placed within its reach.

" The eggs thus deposited I at first supposed were loosen-
ed from the hairs by the moisture of the tongue, aided bj^
its roughness, and were conveyed to the stomach, where
they were hatched : but on more minute search I do not
find this to be the case, or at least only by accident; for, when

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

they have remained on the hairs four or five days they be-
come ripe, after which time the slighest application of
warmth and moisture is sufficient to bring forth, in an in-
stant, the latent larva. At this time, if the tongue of the
horse touches the egg, its operculum is thrown open, and a
small active worm is produced, which readily adheres to the
moist surface of the tongue, and is from thence conveyed
with the food to the stomach. If the egg itself be taken up
by accident, it may pass on to the intestinal canal before it
hatches ; in which case its existence to the full is more
precarious, and certainly not so agreeable, as it is ex-
posed to the bitterness of the bile.

"Ihaveoften, with a pair of scissars, clipped off some hairs
with eggs on them from the horse, and on placing them in
the hand, moistened with saliva, they have hatched in a few
seconds. At other times, when not perfectly ripe, the larva
would not appear, though held in the hand under the same
circumstances for several hours ; a sufficient proof that the
eggs themselves are not conveyed to the stomach. It is for-
tunate for the animal infested by these insects, that their
numbers are limited by the hazards they are exposed to.
I should suspect near a hundred are lost for one that arrives
at the perfect state of a fly. The eggs, in the first place,
when ripe, often hatch of themselves, and the larva, without
a nidus, crawh about till it dies ; others are washed off by
water, or are hatched by the sun and moisture thus supplied
together. When i the mouth of the animal they have the
dreadful ordeal of the teeth and mastication to pass through.
On their arrival at the stomach, they may pass mixed with
the mass of food into the intestines ; and when full grown,
in dropping from the animal to the ground, a dirty road or
water may receive them. If on the commons, they are in
danger of being crushed to death, or of being picked up by
the birds who constantly attend the footsteps of the cattle
for food. Such are the contingencies by which nature has
wisely prevented the too great increase of their numbers,
and the total destruction of the animals they feed on.

" I have once seen the larva of this oestrus in the stomach
of an ass ; indeed there is little reason to doubt their exis-
tence in the stomachs of all this tribe of animals. These
larva attach themselves to every part of the stomach, but are
generally more numerous about the pylorus, and are some-
times, though much less frequently, found in the intestines.
Their numbers in the stomach are very various, often not
more than half a dozen, at other times more than a hundred ;
and, if some accounts might be relied on, even a much
greater number than this. They hang most commonly in
clusters, being fixed by the small end to the inner mem-
brane of the stomach, which they adhere to by means of two
small hooks, or tentacula. When they are removed from
the stomach they will attach themselves to any loose mem-

brane, and even to the skin of the hand. The body of the
larva is composed of eleven segments, all of which, except
the two last, are surrounded by a double row of horny bristles,
directed towards the truncated end, and are of a reddish
colour, except the points, which are black. The larvje evi-
dently receive their food at the small end, by a longitudi-
nal aperture, which is situated between two hooks, or tenta-
cula. Their food is probably the chyle, which being near-
ly pure aliment, may go wholly to the composition of their
bodies, without any excrementitious residue, though on dis-
section the intestine is found to contain a yellow or greenish
matter, which is derived from the colour of food, and shows
that the chyle, as they receive it, is not perfectly pure.
They attain their full growth about the latter end of May,
and they are coming from the horse from this time to the
latter end of June, or sometimes later. On dropping to the
ground they find out some convenient retreat, and change to
the chrysalis; and in about six or seven weeks the flvappears.
" The perfect fly but ill sustains the changes of weather ;
and cold and moisture, in any considerable degree, would
probably be fatal to it. The flies never pursue the horse
into the water. This aversion I imagine arises from the chilli-
ness of that element, which is probably felt more exquisite-
ly b}' them, from the high temperature they had been ex-
posed to during their larva state. The heat of the stomach
of the horse is much greater than that of the warmest climate
being about 102 degrees of Farenheit, and in their fly state
they are only exposed to GO, and from that to about SO de-
grees. This change, if suddenly applied, would in all pro-
bability be fatal to them ; but tiiey are prepared for it by
suffering its first effects in the quiescent and less sensible
state of a chrysalis. I have often seen this fly, during the
night time, and in cold weather, fold itself up with the head
and tail nearly in contact, and lying apparently in a torpid
state throuarh the middle of summer." Nicholson.

FRESH AND SALT LAKE OF MEXICO.

There is no lake in the world, we know of, like this :
a part of its water is fresh, and the other salt ; which gives
room to think that there are two sources, though but one
lake appears.

The fresh water seems stagnant and motionless, and the
salt water ebbs and flows as the sea, with this difference,
that it does not follow the rule of tides, being only produced
by the blowing of winds, which sometimes makes this lake
as tempestuous as the sea.

The fresh water of this lake is good and wholesome, and
affords plenty of small fish ; it is higher than the salt water,
and falls into it ; the part of the lake that ebbs and flows is
brackish, and has no sort offish.

I

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

WILD SWAN.

CYGNUS FEU US.

[Plate XVL]

(By John T. Sharpless, M. D.)

^nas cygniis ferus, Linn. — Cygnus ferus, Briss. — Le
Cygne sauvage, Buff. — Elk, or Hooper Swan, Ray
Whistling Swan, Lath. Pennant. — Cygnus musicus,
Bechst. — Sioan, Wilson's List. — IVapa-Seu, In-
dians Hud. Bat. — J. Doughty's Collection.

The Swan has been emphatically called the peaceful
monarch of the Lake. It is undoubtedly tlie most beau-
tiful of all the water-birds, whether we consider tlie spot-
less purity of its plumage, the gracefulness of its contour,
or the majesty of its movements. It is in its own element
alone, that it can display its charms, being extremely awk-
ward and inelegant in all its motions when placed on its feet,
but when seen peacefully engaged in the excitement of
play, or calmly dressing its stainless garb in the lovely mir-
ror on which it floats, it is one of the most agreeable and
untiring ornaments in nature.

The princely magnificence of the Swan has attracted
from the earliest day the attention of every admirer of
the beauties of creation, and having been chosen by the
ancients as the mansion of departed Poets, is sufficient evi-
dence of their love and veneration.

" The Hying Swan's last, sweetest note,"

was supposed to be the departure of the poetic spirit to
happier realms, and although, to the crude ear of moderns,
the dj'ing expiration of the Swan is not wafted on the wings
of melody, the change may have arisen from a vitiation of
musical taste, or perhaps, as Morin says,

" The Swans that once so sweetly san^,
Sing very illy now."

There have been heretofore described but five distinct
species of this bird. The wild Swan of Europe, has been
recently divided by Mr. Yarrell into the Hooper Swan
and Bewick Swan, although, until this division, they were
considered the same bird and identical with the Swan of
America. 2dly, the Mute or Tame S. f Cygnus olor,)
Sdly, the Black Necked S. of the Falkland Islands, (C.
nigricollisj, and the Black S. of Australia (C. atratus.)

As the distinction drawn by Mr. Yarrell between the
two species in the common wild Swan, which he presumes
to hold good both in the European and American bird, can-
not be readily discovered, and the habits of both being
Z z

much the same, I will consider them, for the present, as
identical.

The Swan of which we are now speaking, has spread
widely over the greater part of the northern hemisphere,
being found at different seasons, in perhaps every portion
of that immense zone between the Arctic Circle and the
Tropic of Cancer, descending in the autumn into Egypt
and the West India Islands, and during the summer,
disturbing with its harsh scream the solitary forests of the
Frozen Ocean. In America, they were seen by Captain
Franklin on the shores of the Arctic Sea, and Iceland is
but a stopping place for crowds that pass to the north even
of that Island. They make their appearance at those places
in April, and at Hudson's Ba)' in March.

The journal of Major Long's Expedition to the Rocky
Mountains says, the Swans were seen passing to the north
as early as the 22d of February. They are the first migra-
tory birds that arrive at Hudson's Bay, except a few snow-
birds which lead the van of thisvernal expedition. The Swan
breeds in Lapland, Ka.mtschatka, Siberia, Iceland, and in
Hudson's Bay, and in the range of lakes and rivers found
to the westward and northward of the latter place, across the
whole American continent. They arrive at these summer
residences in flocks of from twenty to one hundred, and, as
the spots suitable for the nests, are often still frozen, they
frequent the feet of falls and rapids, and streams that can
be kept open by splashing and beating with their wings and
feet. They are strictly monogamous, and breed in the
islands and low ground, amid the reeds and grass, mak-
ing their nests of leaves and sedge. They desposit from five
to seven eggs of a dirty white colour with a shade of green,
<'one of which," says Hearne, "is sufficient for a mode-
rate man without bread." The eggs hatch in July, and in
August the moulting season arrives, when they are unable
to fly, and are killed in Iceland in great numbers by dogs,
who are taught to seize them by the neck, and at Hud-
son's Bay, by sticks and stones. They can, however, even
in this state, far outstrip a canoe, traversing the surface of
water with the assistance of the stumps of their wings and
feet, at a very rapid rate. The traveller just quoted, de-
scribes two species of Swans that frequent Hudson's Bay,
one kind, weighing upwards of thirty, and the other
but about twenty pounds; the largest birds making the
loudest note. The smallest species keep the sea coast, and
are more rare than the other, generally appearing but in
pairs.

Writers on Iceland saj', that the yearling Cygnets re-
main there the first year. In America, this does not take
place, all going off together.

About the first of September, the Swans leave the shores
of the Polar sea, according to Franklin, and resort to the

182

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

lakes and rivers in about the latitude of Hudson Bay, (60°)
where they remain preparing for a departure for the win-
ter, until October, when they collect in flocks of twenty
or thirty, and seizing favourable weather, with the wind
not opposed to the direction of their flight, they mount
high in the air, form a prolonged wedge and with loud
screams depart for more genial climes. When making either
their semi-annual transmigration, or on shorter expeditions,
an occasional scream equal to '- how do you all come on
behind" issues from the leader, which is almost immediately
replied to by some posterior Swan with an " all's well"
vociferation. Whea the leader of the party becomes fa-
tigued with his extra duty of cutting the air, he falls in
the rear and his neighbour takes his place. When mounted,
as they sometimes are, several thousand feet above the earth,
with their diminished and delicate outline hardly percepti-
ble against the clear blue of heaven, this harsh sound soften-
ed and modulated by distance, and issuing from the immense
void above, assumes a supernatural character of tone and
impression, that excites, the first time heard, a strangely pe-
culiar feeling.

In flying, these birds make a strange appearance; their
long necks protrude and present, at a distance, mere lines
with black points, and occupy more than one half their
whole length, their heavy bodies and triangular wings
seeming but mere appendages to their immense projections
in front.

When thus in motion, their wings pass through so few
degrees of the circle, that, unless seen horizontally, they
appear almost quiescent, being widely diflerent from the
heavy semi-circular sweep of the Goose. The Swan, when
migrating, with a moderate wind in his favour, and mount-
ed high in the air, certainly travels at the rate of one hun-
dred miles or more an hour. I have often timed the flight of
the Goose, and found one mile a minute a common rapidity,
and when the two birds, in a change of feeding ground,
have been flying near each other, which I have often seen,
the Swan invariably passed with nearly double the velocity.
The Swan in travelling from the northern parts of Ame-
rica to their winter residence, generally keep far inland,
mounted above the highest peaks of the Alleghany, and
rarely follow the water courses like the Goose, which usual-
ly stop on the route, particularly, if they have taken the
sea board. The Swan rarely pause on their migrating
flight, unless overtaken by a storm, above the reach of
which occurrence, they generally soar. They have been
seen following the coast in but very few instances. They
arrive at their winter homes, which is a belt crossing the
whole continent, and extending from the latitude of 40° to
Florida, and even to the West India Islands and Mexico, in
October and November, and immediately take possession of

their regular feeding ground. They generally reach these
places in the night, and the first signal of their arrival at
their winter abode, is a general burst of melody, mak-
ing the shores ring for several hours with their vocife-
rating congratulations, whilst making amends for a long
fast, and pluming their deranged feathers. From these lo-
calities, they rarely depart, unless driven farther south by in-
tensely cold weather, until their vernal excursion. When the
spring arrives, a similar collection offerees as at the north,
takes place in March, and, after disturbing the tranquil
bosom of the water for a night, by incessant washing and
dressing, and alarming the quiet neighbourhood by a con-
stant clatter of consulting tongues, they depart for the north
aboutdaylightwith a general/e;<-^c-yo/eof unmusical screams.
The Chesapeake Bay is a great resort for Swans during
the winter, and whilst there, they form collections of from
one to five hundred on the flats, near the western shores,
and extend from the outlet of the Susquehannah river,
almost to the Rip Raps. The connecting streams also pre-
sent fine feeding grounds.

They always select places where they can reach their
food by the length of their necks, as they have never, so
far as I can learn, been seen in this part of the world, to
dive under the water, either for food or safety. Hearne
(Jour. Frozen Ocean,) says, that, at Hudson's Bay, "hy div-
ing, and other manoeuvres, it is impossible to take them by
the hand when moulting." I have often seated myself for
hours, within a short distance of several hundred Swans,
to watch their habits and manners, and never saw one pass
entirely under the water, though they will keep the head
beneath the surface for five minutes at a time. C. L. Buona-
parte, Synop, Birds, U. States, in describing the genus
Cygnus says, "from their conformation and lightness of
the plumage, they are unable to sink the body."

The food they are most partial to, is the canvass back grass,
(Valisneria americana,) worms, insects and shell-fish,
never I believe, touching fish, however hardly pressed for
support. The Geese and Swans frequently feed, but never
fly, together.

These birds are so exceedingly watchful, that if there are
but three of them feeding together, one will generally be
on guard, and when danger approaches, there is some mute
sign of alarm, for I have never heard a sound at such times.
However much noise had been made before, the in-
stant an alarm occurs, there is perfect silence, their heads are
erected, a moment's examination determines the course,
when, if the case be not too urgent, they depend on swim-
ming, if escape be necessary. They rarely fly even from
the pursuitof a boat, unless very closely followed, and when
they do arise from the water, either for escape or from
choice, it is generally with a scream, and when alighting.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

18S

particularly, if among others, there is usually a " how d'ye
do" of expression on all sides. Even when wing-broken,
these birds can swim with great rapidity, and if not other-
wise hurt, a single oars-man in the best constructed boat, can
rarely overtake them. A gentleman who resides on the
Chesapeake near Bush River, informed me, that a few years
since, he had wounded a Swan and afterwards cured and
tamed it. To prevent it from flying away, he clipped its
wing, but it occasionally escaped to the water, where
he had often followed it for several miles, with two
rowers, before he could catch it. The unvvounded birds,
have frequently been seen to collect around a cripple com-
panion and urge it to escape, pushing it forward, and I
have been informed by good authorities, that they have
been observed to place themselves on each side of a disabled
Swin, supporting a broken wing, and almost lifting the sub-
ject of their affectionate care out of the w^ter.

Whilst feeding and dressing, Swans make much noise,
and through the night, their vociferations can be heard for
several miles. Their notes are extremely varied, some, close-
ly resembling the deepest base of thecommon tin horn, whilst
others, run through every modulation of false note of the
french horn or clarionet. Whether this difference of note
depends on age, sex or species, I am not positively assured.
Lawson, a traveller in Carolina, in 1700, says, the Trum-
peters are much the largest birds, and make the French
horn screams, whilst the Hoopers utter the deep notes. Hav-
ing never jet satisfied myself of the existence of two species
of the American Swan, I have supposed the various voices
depended on age or sex, \he patriarchs producing the deep
organ note.

The Swan requires five or six years to reach its perfect
maturity of size and plumage, the yearling Cygnet, being
about one third the magnitude of the adult, and has fea-
thers of a deep leaden colour. The smallest Swan I have
ever examined, and it was killed in my presence, weighed
but eight pounds. Its plumage was very deeply tinted,
and it had a bill of a beautiful ^e.sA colour, and very soft.
This Cygnet, I presume was a yearling, for, I killed one
myself the same day, whose feathers were less dark, but
whose bill was of a dirty white; and the bird weighed twelve
pounds. This happened at a time when my attention was
not turned scientifically to the subject, and I have forgotten
other singularities of the specimens. By the third year,
the bill becomes black, and the colour of the plumage less
intense, except on the top of the head and back of the neck,
which are the last parts forsaken by the colour. Swans of
the sixth year, have assumed all the characters of the adult,
and very old birds have a hard protuberance on the bend
of the last joint of the wing. When less than six years
of age, these birds are very tender and delicious eating.

having the colour and flavour of the Goose, the latter qua-
lity is, however, more concentrated and luscious. Hearne
considers a Swan " when roasted, equal in flavour to young
heifer beef, and the Cygnets are very delicate." As these
birds live to a great age, they grow more tough and dry as
they advance, the patriarchs being as unmasticable and
unsavoury, as the Cygnets are tender and delightful.

There are many modes practised in the United States of
destroying these princely ornaments of the water. In
shooting them whilst flying with the wind, the writer just
mentioned declares, " they are the most difficult bird to kill
I know, it being frequently necessary to take sight ten or
twelve feet before the bill." This I should consider an un-
necessary allowance, unless driven by a hurricane, but, on
ordinary occasions, the bill is aimed at, and if going with a
breeze, at a long shot, a foot before the bill would be
quite sufficient. The covering is so extremely thick on old
birds, that the largest drop shot will rarely kill, unless the
Swan is struck in the neck or under the wing, and I have
often seen large masses of feathers torn from them, without
for an instant, impeding their progress.

When wounded in the wing alone, a large Swan will
readily beat off a dog, and is more than a match for a man
in four feet water, a stroke of the wing having broken an
arm, and the powerful feet almost obliterating the face of a
good sized duck shooter. They are often killed by rifle
balls thrown from the shore into the feeding column, and
as a ball will ricochet on the water for several hundred
yards, a wing may bedisabled at the distance of half a mile.

These birds are often brought within shooting range,
by sailing down upon them whilst feeding, and, as they arise
against the wind, and cannot leave the water for fifteen
or twenty yards, against which they strike their enor-
mous feet and wings most furiously, great advantage is
gained in distance. They must be allowed on all occasions
to turn the side, for a breast shot rarely succeeds in enter-
ing.

When two feeding coves are separated by a single point,
by disturbing the Swans in one or the other occasionally,
they will pass and repass very closely to this projection of
land, and usually taking as they do, the straight line, each
gunner to prevent dispute, names the bird he will shoot at.

In winter, boats covered by piecesof ice, the sportsman be-
ing dressed in white, are paddled or allowed to float during
the night into the midst of a flock, and they have been often-
times killed, by being knocked on the head and neck by a
pole. There is, however, much danger in this mode, as others
may be engaged in like manner, but shooting, and at a short
distance, the persons might not be distinguished from the
Swan. These birds seem well aware of the range of a gun,
and I have followed them in a skiff for miles, driving a body

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

of several hundreds before me, without the possibility of
getting quite within shooting distance.

The skins of Swans still covered by the down, which is
very thick, are often used in our country for bonnets and
tippets, and at Hudson's Bay, a great trade formerlj' existed
with the down and quills. The Indians also employ the
skins for dresses for their women of rank, and the feathers
for ornaments for the head.

It is a curious circumstance, that Wilson has neither fig-
ured nor described this beautiful and common bird in his Or-
nithology, but Mr. Lawson the engraver of his splendid
plates, and also liis personal friend, informs me, he had
waited for another southern expedition, which he did not
live to perform. A particular history, in detail, of this
splendid bird has heretoibre never been given to the public.
The following description of the Genus Cvgnus I have
taken from Buonaparte's Synop. Birds. U. S. " Bill at base
higher than broad, gibbous, subcylindric above, of equal
breadth throughout, obtuse : teeth lamilliform : upper
mandible unguiculated and curved at tip, lower shorter,
narrower, covered by the margins of the upper, flattened :
nostrils medial, oval, open, pervious, covered by a mem-
brane : tongue thick, fleshy, broad, fimbriated on the sides,
obtuse. Head small, lora naked : neck longer than the
body : body much compressed, elegantly shaped : feet far
back, very short and stout : wings long when folded, pri-
maries hardly reach beyond the secondaries : first and fourth
primaries equal, second and third longest.

" C. ferns. White, bill black, without protuberance, bare
space round the eye yellow."

The American Swan is five feet long — bill three inches —
twenty feathers in the tail and weight from twenty-four to
thirty pounds.

The wild Swan differs from the mute or tame Swan,
according to the "Description of the Menagerieof the Zoo-
logical Society of London published under the direction of the
Institution" in having twelve ribs on each side, whilst the
tame has but eleven. There is no protuberance on tlie bill
as in the tame, and in the latter, the bill is of an orange red,
with the exception of the edges, the protuberance on the
top, a slight hook at the extremity, the nostrils and the
naked spaces extending from the base towards the eyes —
all of which are black. The mute, carries the neck more
curved than the other, and the windpipe passes into the
lungs without any of the singular convolution presently to
be described. Buffon strangely remarks, that this difference
in the internal structure may be the result of domestication.
This would be an astonishing effect produced by association
with man, that the credulity of the times even of that writer,
could hardly believe, still less, in these days of science and
discovery.

Linne says the Wild Swan (A. cygnusfertis) has eleven
on each side, and the tame twelve, which is the reverse of
the above description. Pennant also gives twelve for the
wild bird I have not had an opportunity of ascertaining the
number in our own Swan.

The wild Swan of England, and that of America, have
been till lately considered by naturalists as identical, and
consisting of but one species. Mr. Yarrell, evidently a close
observer of nature, in a paper published in the Linnsean
Transactions of London, has asserted the existence of two
distinct species in the Enghsh wild Swan, and supposes
there is also the same in America. His new species, he calls
after the celebrated naturalist Bewick [Cygnus bewickii),
and says, it differs from tlie Hooper or the common
kind, in having the bare space around and before the
eyes, and over the front of the forehead to the extent of 3-4
of an inch, orange yellow — bill narrow at the middle and di-
latedatthe point — eyes, orange-j'ellow — tail havingeighteen
feaihers, whole length threefeet nine inches and weighing but
fourteen pounds; whilst in the Hooper, the bare space is yel-
low— eyes brown — sidesof bill parallel — tail having twenty
feathers, whole length five feet and weighing twenty pounds.
The greatest difference however, consists in the arrangement
of the trachea or windpipe in the sternum or breast bone.
This writer says, in the Hooper, the windpipe after pass-
ing down the neck, continues on and enters a chamber
formed between the two plates of the keel of the bone, and
after running to the depth of three inches in a bone of eight
and a half inches in length, folds on itself, always retaining
the vertical position in its doubling, and returns out at the
same orifice it entered the keel, and winding round the
merry-thought, {os furcatoriiim), takes the regular route
to the lungs.

In his Bewick's Swan, a similar cavity is formed in the
keel for the windpipe, but it continues back through
the whole length of the keel, and into the body of the
sternum and forms a horizontal cavhy there, whilst in the
keel, the greatest diameter of the chamber is vertical. This
posterior sack, is formed by the separation of the upper and
lower plates of the " posterior or flattened portion of the breast
bone, and producing a convex protuberance on the inner sur-
face." Into this posterior sack, the windpipe enters after
traversing the whole length of the cavity in the keel, and its
duplication changes from the vertical to the horizontal posi-
tion, the loop occupying this round bony bag. In a bone
six 3-S inches in length, the depth of the whole cavity was
five 3-4 inches, showing an immense anatomical difference
between this Swan and the Hooper. In the oldest Hooper,
the cavity never extended in the slightest degree, farther
back than the keel, and the fold of the pipe never left the
vertical position at any age ; whilst in the Bewick, in the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

youngest bird there was always a chamber formed in the
flattened part behind the keel, even where the wind pipe
was too short, from the youth of the bird, tooccupy it entire-
ly. In these cases the trachea, passed into the keel but re-
tained the perpendicular position of the duplication.

Mr. Yarrell mentions a paper in the London Philos.
Trans, for 1766, on a Swan brought from Philadelphia to
London, and dissected there, which he considers of the new
species.

This singular arrangement of the windpipe of the North-
ern wild Swan, has been described by all writers on the
bird for more than a century. A disposition to the same
formation is seen in the New Holland Swan, but not to the
same extent, and also in the Cranes. This peculiarity of
the Swan is not a sexual difference, being found in every case
whether male or female, and the development is always
in exact correspondence with the age. This singular for-
mation, it is supposed, is designed to give intensity to the
voice, on the same principle as the convolutions of the French
horn, although the author of the paper just alluded to, con-
siders it necessary to enable the bird to remain under the
water a longer time.

Having paid some attention to the Swan, in relation to
its habits particularly, I am somewhat induced from my
observations to consider the American Swan of but one
species, notwithstanding the opinion of Hearne, Lawson
and Yarrell, and that species entirely distinct from
any other. I have had an opportunity of examining five
prepared birds and five sternums, now in this city, and
the distinguishing marks between the latter and those des-
cribed by Mr. Yarrell appear sufficient to indicate a true
American Swan and deserving the title oi Americana.

I will here merely mention the general lines of demarca-
tion, as all my data at this time, rests on prepared specimens,
but when the recent Swan can be procured, a systematic
examination of every distinguishing trait both external and
internal will be made, when doubtless many other well
marked specific differences will be discovered.

All the preserved Swans of which I have spoken, weighed
when recent, more than twenty pounds and four of them near
thirty pounds — have twenty feathers in the tail — bare space
on the bill yellow, and sides of the bill parallel, with other ex-
ternal marks of the Hooper. The colour of the eye, I can-
not positively learn at this time, some difference of opinion
existing even with the preservers of these specimens, two of
them beautifully prepared by Mr. John Doughty, and now
in his collection, having yellow eyes, which he assures me,
was the tint of the original iris when the birds came into
his possession, which was several days after being killed.
The Swans finely preserved by Mr. Titian Peale, and now in
the Philadelphia Museum, have brown eyes, and a regular
3 A

preserver of subjects of Natural History informs me, that
all the Swans he has prepared, had black eyes. As age
may produce a change in the colour of the iris, all these de-
clarations may be correct in relation to the particular cases.

But the breast bones which I have mentioned, have every
attribute of the Bewick, except being much larger. The
cavity passes through the keel into the 6o(/yof the sternum,
and forms the horizontal chamber, which is occupied to its
posterior extremity by the loop of the trachea, turning to
the horizontal position according to the direction of the
route. I have at this time in my possession, three perfect
specimens of this formation, one of which, was from a bird
of the third year and still retaining many dark feathers.
The horizontal pouch in the body of the bone, is about an
inch in lateral diameter, with the trachea running to the
bottom. The next instance is still more developed, and the
third, which I know came from an old bird, is in its whole
length eight inches, and is perforated to the depth of seven
and a half inches. The chamber in the body of the sternum
projects on the upper surface near one quarter of an inch,
is three inches in its lateral diameter and allows a vacant
circle of one and a half inches in diameter w;7/i«Vi the loop
of the windpipe. The vertical portion is just one half of
the whole duplication.

If wide anatomical differences make distinctions in
species, here is certainly a broad line of demarcation be-
tween our Swan and any other, assuming in its structure a
middle course between the Hooper and Bewick Swans, and
possessing many of the characters of both.

THE DEATH SONG OF THE SWAN.

By Charles West Thomson.

Farewell, ye summer streams where I have sported

Full oft by mossy rock and flowery dell,
I lave no more where once my flock resorted —

Ye summer streams farewell !

No more upon your verdant banks reclining,

I see your breast reflect the clear blue skies, —
Ye quiet waters in the sun-beams shining.

Your humble votary dies.

Yet 'mid your lovely scenes where fairies wander,

In many a gay and sportive moonlight throng,
I pause on life's dim verge awhile to ponder —
Accept my latest song.

186 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

Accept the lay — the soft melodious numbers,

Vouchsafed by Nature to my parting breath,
The gentle prelude to unbroken slumbers —

The symphony of death.

Yet tho' no more I rest in shady bowers

Where my youth's day-spring saw the waters shine,
When death has come, beneath the summer flowers,
0 quiet sleep is mine.

I go, no more to breathe among the mountains

The ambrosial fragrance, which the wild flowers fiin«
I go, no more beneath the woodland fountains
To wet my snowy wing.

The wild wave from the rock shall still be springing,

The mountain mists shall hover o'er the dell.
But I amidst them no more shall be winging —

My native streams farewell !

TREATISE ON BREAKING DOGS.

(Concluded from pag^e 1G3.)

It is expected now, that your Dog has acquired spirit, thus keen after game, is, to say the least, absurd and cruel;
and keenness for game, and the several day's hunt have and it is next to a miracle, if, after this treatment, a Dog is
produced habits of industry. The next thing, then, to not utterly ruined. I have seen young Dogs of the finest
encounter, is, that when he is approaching game, he may promise, ruined in this way, because in error, or over-zeal,
show a disposition to rush in, and flush it from before the they flushed the game, and were shot in a most cruel man-
other Dogs, while at a stand; or, if you are hunting him ner, by an unfeeling master, while the poor animal, with
alone, before you are sufficiently near to get a shot, you blood streaming from his fifty wounds, would cry most
must, of course, check this disposition immediately, but piteously, and with looks of reproach seemed to say, " Is
with great prudence. This is the most important point to this the reward of my faithfulness? Are the errors com-
be experienced, during the whole season of training; and mitted in an over-zeal to serve you, to be punished with
it often happens, at this period, that many valuable young death-like cruelty? Or, is it because I have been created
Dogs are ruined forever. Great care and patience are abso- subservient to your pleasures, that you load me with sor-
lutely necessary in the tutor; and much severity towards row and distress?" — I hope to see this inhuman punish-
the young Dog, at this time, is seldom, if ever, attended ment of the poor Dog entirely abolished: &t any rate, sporis-
with good, but, nine times out of ten, much evil. And the men should discard it from their practice. There is but
plan, adopted by some men, of shooting their Dogs, when one instance in which humanity will admit of this punish-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

ment, and that is, when your Dog is chasing or worrying
sheep: and this opportunity seized, will effectually cure a
Dog of this propensity, without the necessity of destroying
his life. Tlie eflect that this punishment has on the Dog, is,
to make him "blink," or run from the game, so soon as
he smells it, or, after the report of the gun, to skulk away
and hide in the bushes, or go home.

I know it is unpleasant and mortifying, that a Dog should
thus rush in and spoil your prospects of shooting, and at a
period, too, the most interesting to the sportsman. This
serves to irritate, and the master, in a sudden impulse, com-
mits an act of cruelty towards his brute, which, in his cool,
reflective moments, he would justly condemn; but he
should remember, that it is immaturity and inexperience in
the Dog, which causes these seeming errors, and a little
forbearance and prudence, at this time, will produce the
happiest results.

When your Dog is approaching game, which is very easy
to discover, by his greater keenness and short and hurried
ranging, and his wariness to draw closer to the birds, you
should always warn him, by saying — " take heed,"
"mind," or, "be careful." These expressions will, if
used a few times, strike his notice, especially if other Dogs
are near him, which understand and obey the sounds.
When he has drawn so near to the birds as to make a halt,
you should speak out distinctly to him, the magic word
"toho." This will recal to his memory, forcibly, the
lessons you gave him at home, and little or no difBculty
will be experienced in bringing him to become a staunch
Dog, whenever he scents the game. He now understands
the word, and the use of it, ever after, will be to him, the
signal of obedience; whether it be to back other Dogs, or
stand the birds alone. At the first stand, however, that
the Dog makes, it will be well for the sportsman, to endea-
vour to get up to him, in order to caress him, and make
him familiar with your presence while on his stand; and,
in this situation, the word "toho" should be repeatedly
used. This kindness to a Dog, and words of encourage-
ment, when fulfilling his duty, have a most salutary effect
upon him, and should be as readily embraced, as the con-
trary treatment, when fault is committed. It is an impor-
tant point to make a Dog fear you, but it is equally impor-
tant to secure his affection; as between the two you can
manage him to your mind. Next to training your Dog to
stand, it is important he should be taught to back-set the
other Dogs, which may be effected when the old Dogs are
at a stand, by bringing the young Dog up to them, so as to
get the scent of the game, and then, by using the expres-
sion " toho," it will produce the necessary effect. When
you discover one Dog at a stand, especially in high grass
or bushes, it should be an invariable rule ia the sportsman,

to use this word, as it will give the other Dogs notice of
the presence of game, and cause them immediately to look
around for the cause of this expression, when they will
most likely discover the Dog at his stand and immediately
back him. To enforce this more particularly on the young
Dog's attention, the "toho" should be accompanied, in this
case, with a sign, by raising the hand. Should you, how-
ever, find great difficulty in breaking your Dog, to back or
stand, by these ordinary rules, your next, and perhaps only
plan, will be the trail-cord, or, as some writers call it, the
" trash-cord," and whip. This cord is about twenty or
thirty yards in length, of the thickness of a small quill, to
be fastened to the collar around the Dog's neck, and
dragged by him through the stubble. As this, however, is
attended with much labour on the part of the Dog, it would
be well to select some field where you know there is a
covey of birds; and, in ranging about, the moment he
approaches them, he will first halt, and then spring at them,
with a view of catching them: this, then, is your time to
check him. When he makes a halt, seize the cord, and
when you give it a slight pull, cry out sharpl}', "toho," and
also do the same when backing other Dogs. Should he still
prove restive, a smart application of the whip, also, will
answer. A very few lessons of this kind, will amply
reward the sportsman for his trouble; and he ought never
to be discouraged at the prospective difficulties of training
a Dog, when measures of this kind are necessary, as it gene-
rally is the case, that this description of Dogs, after being
trained, are of the first order. One of the finest Dogs I
ever shot over, I had to train, both with the muzzle-peg
and trail-cord, and I believe every other plan would have
failed; and his spirit, or impetuosity, was so extreme, that
I frequently through impatience was going to relinquish
him altogether, as incorrigible, but with steady perse-
verance, I had the satisfaction to make him a superior Dog.
Having succeeded in getting your Dog to back and stand
well, the next very important thing to observe, is, to watch
your own actions. A very trifling fault on your part, may
have an injurious effect on your Dog. Therefore, when at
the very interesting moment of their approach to game,
evince no eagerness, and interfere but little with their
actions, but be silent and composed until they make a final
stop; and the few warning words necessary, should be
addressed in a low and moderate voice. Now then, as be-
fore stated, is your time to caress the young Dog; after
which, walk boldly up to the game and flush it, and, if
successful in your shot, show the bird to the young Dog.
It should be your invariable rule, to flush the game your-
self; and never, on any account, suffer your Dogs to break
from their point and do it for you. And to prevent this,
you should walk deliberately to the game, and never run;

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

for should you show too much eagerness, it will make your
Dogs impetuous also, and the least staunch Dog will cer-
tainly rush in and spoil your shot. Besides producing a
habit of impatience in the Dog, it unfits the sportsman for
that deliberation necessary to success. At every fire, the
master's first care should be to observe his Dog, and rather
lose the bird than, by any neglect, injure the Dog. There-
fore, immediately after shooting, the Dog should be called
in, and made to lie at your feet, by using those expressive
words, as, "down," "close," or ^^ down charge," and not
in any wise, be suflered to leave you, or chase the bird, until
you are prepared for the game which may spring up around
you. Then give a sign of your readiness, as hold off.
The sportsman who will observe this rule strictly, cannot
fail to have fine shooting, whenever he gets his birds into
good cover. I have seen Dogs possessing every desirable
quality but this, so spoil the sport on the first covey of birds,
as to dampen the pleasure of a whole day's excursion;
therefore, too much care cannot be observed in this point
of training.

A man should study well, and become perfectly acquaint-
ed with the disposition of the animal he attempts to educate
— on this depends in a great measure his success in training,
for the dispositions of Dogs vary like those of men. Some-
times it is improper to hunt a high spirited young Dog in
company with an old well broken Dog, as it frequently hap-
pens that the latter will excite the jealousy and impetuosity
of the former, which, in his ambition to excel, will com-
mit many errors, that he would not if hunted alone, and
draw on himself, the undeserved displeasure of his master.
Again, other young Dogs, are mere imitators, and will only
follow the wake of an old Dog during the whole day, in-
stead of hunting seperately and independently— while some
will bear the most severe chastisement, and others frighten-
ed at merely the sight of a whip— of this the sportsman
must judge and act according to these varieties.

During the process of training a Dog, the whip will cer-
tainly be a necessary auxiliary, but much judgment is ne-
cessary to use it properly, which can only be done by
knowing the disposition of the Dog ;— every error should
be punished, but according to its demerit, and a regular sys-
tem of training must be commenced and continued, without
relaxing the least in discipline, for the Dog will take advan-
tage of every oversight of yours to his faults, and lenience,
in case of necessary chastisement, will injure him more
than undeserved punishment ; and being educated with this
discipline he will always expect fromyour hands somenotice
of his errors, whether accidental or intentional, and punish-
ment should be meted out commensurate with his deserts,
from an angrily spoken word, to the severity of the whip.
Another rule from which the sportsman should never

deviate, is, always to make your Dog come to you, to be
chastised *this is an important point to obtain — as in this
case, he will on every error, no matter how trivial, come to
you for correction, and crouch at your feet, when he
must always be noticed — but, should tlie opposite plan
be adopted by a sportsman, of running up to his Dog to flog
him, he, after the first severe chastisement, will run from and
avoid you, and on every offence, will, upon your scolding
him, most likely liedown in the field — but the greatest dis-
advantage is, that, when a dog may be hunting in a swamp
or difficult place, and commits error, harsh words will have
the tendency to keep him out of sight, and no persuasion what-
ever will bring liim to you ; you then, cannot get to him, and
he will not come to you ; he will therefore, be worse than
useless. Consequently, habituate him to come to you for
chastisement, in the early stage of training, and before you
take him to the field, and you will soon discover the impor-
tance of thislesson.

A Dog should be broken with as few words and little
noise as possible, and with thesewords should be used signs, as
moving the hand right, left, forward, and toward you, accord-
ing to to the direction you wish the Dog to go — he will soon
learn these signs, and his obedience to them will prevent
far ranging — a Dog may be learned to quarter a field hand-
somely, in this way, if while waving, the master will also
walk the direction — the whistle is recommended and used
by many sportsmen ; but I never could see much advantage
arising from its use ; they who choose can adopt it if they
think proper.

The plan recommended by some writers, never to suffer
your Dog to break field, is nothing more than a reiterationof
the old English rule, and enjoined, because others have
adopted it, without any good reasons given, why it should
be enforced, is in my view, altogether useless. In a coun-
try like ours, where it sometimes occurs you are hunting
in fields of but few acres, this rule could not be enforced
without detriment to the Dog, or injury to your own com-
fort. Being frequently surrounded by fields, in each of
which you may probably find a covey, you are left uncertain
of the fact until your Dog has faithfully hunted the first field
you enter, and he discovers by their trail, they are in the adjoin-
ing field, and crosses the fence, to draw upon the game; now is
it not better that the Dog should keep his point, than that
he should be called back to the original field, because affect-
ed etiquette says, you and he must leave together ? The
plan may answer, where you find fields containing from
thirty to one hundred acres, and you in danger of losing

* When chastising a Dog, you should avoid, kicliing him in the sides, sinking
him over the head, puuchinghim with the butt of yourgun, pulling him bythe.ears,
or throwing any missiles at him; a training whip should be provided, and alway*

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

your Dog — but there are few sportsmen to be found now,
who will prohibit a Dog from leaving any moderate sized
field solus, if they think he is approaching game. If
my Dog be properly broken, and I have confidence in his
staunchness, I would much rather trust his nose and judg-
ment, than my knowledge; for to attempt to correct a Dog,
and instruct him according to your notions, when he winds
the game, and knows better, is only playing the fool with
him, and being at a loss to comprehend you, he may be in-
jured, beside spoiling your own sport. Many a covey of
quails have escaped because the wise sportsman chose to
make his dog act contrary to his instinct.

If a Dog is trained well when young, he never will go so far
from you, but, that a moderate sound may reach his ears, and
therefore, I condemn the whistle and other noise ; if a Dog
is broken to cither the whistle or many words, he will
always take the liberty to range as far from you, as these
sounds can be heard, for, depending on them, he seldom
looks at his master, and only knows of his error, when he
can no longer hear them; but, train a Dog to a few words,
and the waving of your hands, and he will not range too
far from you, he, depending on your actions for instruction,
will keep near you, that he may see clearly, and obey the
direction you wish him to go. There is nothing more un-
pleasant than to hunt in company with those who are whist-
ling, blustering, and hallooing at their Dogs : for, setting
aside the unpleasantness of their noise, it often deranges the
Dogs, frightens the game, and destroys much sport.

I most strenuously recommend that a Dog should be learned
to bring the game, although many sportsmen condemn it as
injurious for several reasons; the first they say is the danger
of the Dog's flushing the game, when running for the shot
bird ; the second is, that after the Dog attains some age, he
becomes hard mouthed, and mashes the bird; and the other
reason is, that it causes a scuffle whenever there are several
Dogs in company. In answer to these reasons, I would re-
mark, that there is scarcely any habit in a Dog but by pro-
per treatment may be altered, and it proves only a deficiency
in trainingthem, if these bad habits are preserved in theDogs,
but a Dog may and ought to be trained, to bring the game
or drop it, at the master's pleasure; this can also be done, at
the time, and by adopting the plan recommended in the
former part of this treatise. At all events, in a country like
this which abounds with streams, thickets, and other diffi-
cult places, the advantages of having a Dog to find and bring
dead game, will more than counterbalance other inconveni-
ences. I believe no sportsman, who has a good Dog which
will do this, thinks the worse, or objects to him on that ac-
count; and objections to this plan are raised by those who
have no Dogs of this kind, and are unacquainted with the ad-
vantages arising from the practice.
3 B

One of the most difficult things to break a Dog of, is the
habit of chasing rabbits, but, as has been before stated, there
is no practice so deeply rooted in a Dog, but if taken in time
may be corrected, so this may be reformed also; and in the
first place a sportsman should never shoot a rabbit in sight
of his Dog, or carry one in his game bag, as the Dog, in this
case, very naturally supposes, it is as much the object of your
pursuit as the quail or partridge; now, if the master will
never shoot a rabbit in his Dog's presence, and secondly,
will severely flog him for the two or three first offi;nces, I
will guarantee there will be no difficulty on this score, and no
necessity to resort to those cruel practices of shooting the
Dog, and " thrusting a wire through the cartilaginous part of
his nose," and affixing to this a cord, to which must be tied
a hare, and made to spring about and with a smart application
of the whip, inflict pain on the dog, while exclaiming ^^ware
hare.''''

Some Dogs after being trained, are so fond of the gun, that
they will follow any person with a gun who calls them; to
break them of this is a thing to be much desired ; for, should
he be a superior Dog, the person who allures him from his
home will be loth to return him, and is often induced to ap-
propriate to his own pleasures by using, or profit by selling
that property whicli belongs to another.

To break a Dog of this disposition, I would recommend
that the owner, getsome person, a stranger to the Dog, to pro-
cure a gun, and entice the animal some considerable distance
from his home, when he should be seized roughly by the
neck, and the whip applied with considerable severity, after
which ordered home; this plan followed once or twice, will
completely break him of the propensity.

Dogs should not be permitted to spring on their master
or any other person with their feet; it is a bad practice, and
the ofi'ender should always be punished for it — and the fol-
lowing receipt to break them of chasing poultry is select-
ed. " Respecting poultry, if you find the whip insufficient
to restrain him, take a cleft stick, to one end of which tie
a living fowl, and insert the dog's tail in the cleft at the
other, and tie it in tight, so as to cause him some pain,
then give him a few stripes with a whip, and let him run
ofi'; when he has tired himself, and refuses to run any longer,
take the stick from his tail, and beat him well about the
head with the fowl; apply the whip also smartly; after this
there will be little reason to fear his running at fowls again.
If a Dog be allowed to kill poultry unpunished, it will
make him hard-mouthed and apt to break his game; to say
nothing of the injury he may do to his master or neigh-
bours."

A Dog should always be fed with wholesome food; a
hearty meal consisting of boiled meat, with some Indian
bread or mush, and milk. Once a day is sufficient for any

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

Dog in a state of idleness; but two meals are necessary dur- growing near the edge of the water, from which proceeded
ing the hunting season; and at all times, a constant supply of a most singular noise, accompanied by a considerable splash-
good, clear, and cold water, if possible, should be placed ing of the water; unable, on my first approach, to discover

within the Dog's reach. No sportsman should give his Dog
water, which he would not be willing to drink himself, and
it is disgraceful in any man, who keeps this animal confined,
and permits him to drink stinking filth from the gutter
and slop tub, when his fever or parching thirst calls for the
best and most cooling water.

A Dog is in the best condition for hunting when he is
not very fleshy, both extremes of being over-fat or over-
poor, are detrimental to the comfort and ability of a Dog

the cause, owing to the height of the weeds, and my dis-
tance from the spot, I gained nigher access, by means of a
fallen tree, and to my surprise and exceeding interest, I
saw a violent combat between a Snake and an Eel. The
former was of the water species, and, as nigh as I could
judge, about four feet in length — the latter was much short-
er, but equal if not superior in thickness; how long the
combatants had been waging this war, was difficult to deter-
mine, but, by judging from their vigorous efforts, when I

to hunt, and should be avoided. To keep a Dog in proper first discovered them, I suppose they must have just corn-
trim, he should have plenty of exercise, but especially be- menced. For a considerable length of time, neither par-
fore the shooting season commences; and every gentleman ty appeared to gain advantage — their muscular actions were
who rides in the afternoon should give his Dog a good run violent in the extreme and appeared to engage in deadly
to the country; this gives him an opportunity to eat grass, strife. Whenever the eel succeeded in drawing its antago-
and hardens him to fatigue, and disrobes him of superfluous nist a short distance into the water, (and its chief efforts ap-
peared to be directed to this end,) it was evident, the snake
was no match for it; and this, the snake was aware of, and
would redouble its exertions to regain the shore, and bring
the eel with it, then the battle would be in favour of the
snake; each evidently endeavoured, to wage war against the
other on his own favourite element, and so would it pre-

flesh.

When sickness approaches a Dog, nature points out to him
the use of grass, as a preventative or remedy, and it is neces-
sary, that this vegetable should be placed vvithin his reach,
and every gentleman who can, should grow a small quan-
tity of oats, (being an excellent substitute for grass,) in his

yard, which will be readily eaten by the Dog. Every Dog ponderate, according as each succeeded in getting this ad-
should have a good kennel provided for his comfort, and on vantage of its adversary — the eel appeared to lose that pow-
no account be permitted to enter the dwelling. This prac- erful energy, when rolling in the dirt, which belongs to
tice should be deprecated; what is more unpleasant than to it in its native element, and, it was as sensible as the snake

see a Dog lounge about the parlour, bed-rooms, or stretch
himself at full length before a fire, to the great inconvenience
of the family, and the injury of the Dog? A Dog, housed in
this way, is seldom hardy enough to stand much fatigue,
or the inclemencies of the winter season. These rules are
now submitted to all who desire to become acquainted with
the principles of training Dogs. The theory, however, is
not of great value, unless accompanied with much practice,
and the first impressions you give your dog, and the pro-
gress he makes during the first season of hunting, general-
ly determines his value, and whether he will be worth your nessed, I have communicated it for insertion in your va-
trouble and expense of keeping him. I shall hereafter luable work. T. M.

treat on the diseases of Dogs, their treatment, and on the July 6lh, 1831.
principles of shooting. I.

of the difference, and would also by increased effort get
back again into the water with the snake. At times they
were completely encircled in each others folds, and although
their rage was manifested by the manner in which they
would continually bite each other, yet their whole efforts
were devoted to their muscular strength to decide the vic-
tory. After continuing this interesting combat for rather
more than ten minutes, they separated mutually — the eel
returning to its native bottom, and the snake to the grass.
Believing that a circumstance of this kind is seldom wit-

BATTLE BETWEEN A SNAKE AND AN EEL.

Messrs Editors,

While I was walking, a few days since, along the bank
of a shaded creek, a few miles from Philadelphia, my
attention was attracted towards some weeds that were

AN ENCOUNTER WITH WOLVES.

The Deer in the vicinity of the prairies, of which I have
been speaking, are very large. Some of them weigh from
150 to 200 pounds. Wild Turkeys too, are here numerous
and they sometimes weigh from 20 to 30 pounds. But
facts like these unduly afiect the imagination. These kinds

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS

191

of game cannot always be found; the toils of the chase are
frequently unrewarded ; and many who have settled in the
west with lively feeling upon this topic, have abandoned this
precarious source of profit.

For several days, I had been employed in crossing vast
prairies. The weather continued moderate, the snow,
water, and mud were deep, and wading laborious. I fre-
quently met with considerable freshets, and the banks of the
creeks were overflown. Here I saw vast flocks of wild
geese flying towards Sandusky Bay. Their hoarse notes,
proceeding from the misty air, rendered even more solitary
a trackless and almost illimitable plain of high and coarse
grass. I was repeatedly lost in these prairies ; and found
it necessary to calculate my way by compass and maps.

Within about twenty miles of the famous Black Swamp, I
entered, late in the afternoon, a dark wood in a low and
wet situation. The weather being moderate, I continued
to travel until very late in the evening. About 12 o'clock
at night my dogs contended with a herd of wolves and were
both slain. The winter, until within a few days, having been
very severe, the wolves, probably, were very hungry and
ferocious. It is- said, that in this part of the country they
are very numerous and bold. From the manner in which
the contest commenced, I am inclined to believe, that the
wolves having issued from their dens, had come to feast
themselves. Previous to the rencounter, all was perfect
silence. My dogs were near me, and without the least
noise, which I could perceive, the war commenced. It
was sudden and furious.

I had, for hours, been experiencing a most excruciating
tooth-ache ; and my sense of hearing was considerably af-
fected by it. But when the contest began, I, for a moment,
forgot my infirmities, seized my gun, encouraged my dogs,
and marched forth in the most lively expectation of achiev-
ing some great victory. It being, however, very dark, the
bushes thick, and the voice of the battle beginning to
die upon my ear, a sense of my sufferings returned, and I
sought repose in my tent. But I found no repose there:
the whole night was employed in endeavouring to assuage
with gun powder and salt, the only applications in my
power, an almost insufierable tooth-ache.

My dogs never returned from the strife. I had lost the
faithful, and disinterested partners of my toil. I could not
leave so interesting a place. For two nights and one day I
remained upon the spot; — but for what I do not know. In
the listlessness of sorrow I fired my rifle into the air. At
length I realized, that my dogs had fallen nobly ; and the
sentiments of grief found a solace in the dictates of pride.

As the fate of my dogs is interesting I may be permitted
to spend a moment in their praise.

They were not, like the hounds of Sparta, dewlaped and

flew; but they possessed the acuteness of these, with the
courage of the mastifi". They were very large, and accus-
tomed to the strife of the woods. Tiger was grave and in-
trepid. Small game excited in him no interest; but when
the breath of the foe greeted him in the breeze, he survey-
ed, at a glance, and with a lofty aspect the surrounding
wood. Slow, steady, and firm in pursuit, he remained si-
lent until the object of his search was found; and then, a
cry more terrible than his

"Was never hallooed lo,

Nor check'd with horn in Crete or Thessaly."

He had lost an eye in the battles of mountains, and was, in
every sense of the word, a veteran.

Pomp was active, generous, affectionate, and in courage
and perseverance unrivalled. In the night, it was his cus-
tom to pillow his head upon his master's breast; and he
ever seemed concerned to guard him from the dangers of
an unsheltered repose.

Perhaps too I may here notice some traits in the charac-
ter of the wolf. The countenance of this animal evinces
both cunning and ferocity. The length of his body is ge-
nerally about four feet, the legs from fifteen to eighteen
inches, the circumference of the body from two and a half
to three feet, and the tail sixteen inches in length. The
colour of the wolf is a mixture of light and brown with
streaks of grey. His hair is long, rough, and very coarse;
his tail is bushy, something like that of the fox, his body is
generally gaunt, his limbs are muscular, and his strength
very great; with perfect ease he can carry a sheep in his
mouth.

The cunning and agility of this animal are equal to his
strength; and his appetite for animal food is exceedingly
voracious; — so much so, that he often dies in pining for it.
When his hunger is very imperious, even man becomes
the object of his ferocity. His sense of smelling is so acute,
that at the distance of three leagues, a carcass will attract
his attention. The wolf is a very solitary animal; and ne-
ver associates with his species but for the purpose of at-
tacking a human being, or some animal of which he is in-
dividually afraid; and when the object of the combination
is effected, each retires sullenly to his den.

It appears by the early stages of English history, that
wolves in England have been so formidable as to attract
the particular attention of the king; and even as late as Ed-
ward the first, a superintendant was appointed for the ex-
tirpation of this dangerous and destructive animal.

I may add that not long after the loss of my dogs I
reached, just before night, a solitary log hut; and in about
an hour after a wolf howled at the door.

Evans' Tour.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

GAME IN OLDEN TIMES.

Mr. Coke, the 7th of October, 1797, upon his manor at
Warham, and within a mile's circumference, bagged forty
brace of partridges in eight hours, at ninety three shots ;
every bird was killed singly. The day before, on the same
spot, he killed twenty-two brace and a half, in three hours.
In 1801, this gentleman killed, in five days, seven hundred
and twenty-six partridges.

In January, 1803, Mr. Coke, Sir John Shelly, and Mr.
T. Sheridan, went over to Houghton, in Norfolk, on a
Chasse for their friend lord Cholmondeley, and killed there,
only with their three guns, in one day, fourteen brace and
a half of hares, sixteen couple of rabbits, twentj^-four brace
of pheasants, thirteen brace of partridges, and sixteen couple
of woodcocks. However great and surprising this shooting
may appear, it is nothing to what has been done in Germa-
ny, and Bohemia, of which I shall only give one instance,
copied from Mons. Dutens, Itneraire, Edit. 1793, p. 153:
" Game is in such abundance in the kingdom of Bohemia,
that in the year 1753, the Emperor, Francis I. made a
partie de chasse, of twenty-three sportsmen, to go with
him on a shooting excursion, to one of the estates of Prince
Colleredo: in the space of eighteen days, the imperial sports-
men fired 116,209 shots, and killed 19,545 partridges;
18,243 hares; 9,499 pheasants; with other inferior game,
amounting to 47,950. I had the anecdote from the Prince
Colleredo himself."

These exploits in shooting, seemed admirably calculated,
not only to deafen the operator, but to severely beat his
shoulder, almost to pieces; when we consider that every
fowling-piece requires to be washed, at every twenty dis-
charges at least, and the operation is performed, we are lost
in amazement at such an extraordinary occurrence.

Thornhill.

ANECDOTE OF YOUNG FOX CUBS.

About two months ago two very young fox cubs were
accidentally caught at the Bar hill, and conveyed to the
game keeper, Myers' romantic residence in the Deer Park,
Cally. A day or two afterwards the Stewartry huntsman,
whose sole business is to destroy vermin, not to observe
the laws of the chase, while beating the cover near Disdow,
started an old she fox, which was speedily shot by our friend
Mr. Myers.

As it was obvious the animal had been giving milk, search
was made, and two more cubs found, one of which was so
tiny that it shortly after died. But its twin brother, or
sister, survived, and was placed on a good bed of straw at

the bottom of a half-hogshead, along with the two juvenile
Reynards already mentioned; and there the trio, by dint of
good nursing, and with such recreation as they furtively
secured, have lived very comfortably ever since. About
the time alluded to, Mr. Myers had a small black bitch,
whose pups had been drowned, and, as he was anxious to
preserve the young foxes, he determined to try whether the
animal would suckle the nurslings of her natural enemy —
an experiment which succeeded to admiration. The mo-
ment " Pepper" or "Mustard," we forget which, was in-
troduced to the importation from the hill-side, she com-
menced licking them all over, and, in the course of a few
hours, displayed more fierceness in guarding them from real
or supposed harm than ever she did in defence of her own
offspring. Under such kind nursing they throve so well
tliat they are already as big as their foster parent; but of
late, we believe, they have been fed with rabbits, and their
nurse, for the sake of her own health, kept apart from them
during the day. The half-hogsheads are furnished with a lid,
on which is placed a stone to keep it down; but, in spite of
these precautions, the bitch has repeatedly knocked the top
off, and, after dragging the cubs out of the barrel, led the
way to the neighbouring woods, that they might enjoy air,
exercise, and recreation. When followed, she answers to
her master's call, and, when coaxed to return home, emits
a peculiar cry, hovering between a bark and a howl, that
immediately brings their foxships around her. The said
cubs, with which so much pains have been taken, are to be
presented by and bye to a friend of ours, an ardent lover of
the pleasures of the chase, and who has long been anxious
to stock Annandale well with foxes, maitgre the welfare of
the "woolly people." We, of course, quarrel with no man's
taste, notwithstanding of Andrew Fairservice's saw anent
" land louping for days after a bit beastie that will no weigh
six pund when ye catch't;" but this we may predict very
safely, that the foxes, when they are old enough, will evince
their gratitude by helping themselves to a tithe of his lambs
on the hill, and more than a tithe of his good lady's poultry.
Dumfries Courier.

PIGEON MATCH.

A SHOOTING match at Pigeons was decided on the 15th
of July, at Germantown, between Doctor S. and Mr. L. for
fifty dollars a side, at ten birds each, and was won by the
former gentleman, he having killed his ten birds — and the
latter nine, missing the first bird.

Another match occurred on the same day and place,
with several on a side, but we have not been able to procure
a statement of the shooting.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

193

AMERICAN ARGALI.

•*- OVIS MONTANA.

[Plate XVII. Male and Female.]

White Buffalo. — Mackenzie, Voyages. Mountain Ram.
M'GiLLivRAY. — New York Med. Repos. vol. vi. Bis;
Horn. — Lewis and Clark. Ovis Montana. — Desjia-
KEST, Mamm. Cuvier, Reg. an. Richardson, Faun. am.
bor. Ovis Animon. — Godman. Harlan. Ovis Am-
mon var Pygargus. — Griffith, An. King. Rocky
Mountain Sheep. — Warden. Unit. St. — Philadelphia
Museum.

No part of natural science is environed with greater diffi-
culties, or presents more obstacles to the inquirer, than the
history of those animals which have been the companions
and slaves of man from the earliest ages; this is strongly
exemplified in the Sheep, whose almost innumerable varie-
ties are to be met with in every civilized portion of the
globe. In the investigation of this subject many questions
of importance arise, which have no inconsiderable bearing
on the issue, though from the present state of our know-
ledge, it is impossible to solve them in a satisfactory or
undeniable manner. Some of these have been thus noticed
in a late work.* "The first relates to the propriety of the
generic distinction between the Sheep and Goats, which
naturalists have borrowed from the vulgar classification,
adopting it in many instances contrary to their own better
judgment. The second has reference to the specific differ-
ences supposed to exist between the three or four distinct
races that have been found in a state of nature, and to the
claims which they severally possess to be regarded as the
originals of the domesticated breeds."

It is true that a comparison of the domestic varieties of
these animals, exhibits many striking differences tending to
confirm the generic distinctions which have been established
by naturalists; but when this investigation is extended to
those species which are still found in a wild and unreclaimed
state, it becomes almost impossible to determine to which
genus many of the animals belong. There is so great a
similitude existing between their habits and mode of life,
as well as in their external form and anatomical structure,
that it appears wholly superfluous to class them under dif-
ferent heads. Thus, their horns are constituted of the same
hollow, angular sheaths, supported b}"^ bony prominences,
having cavities communicating with the frontal sinuses, the
form, number, and character of their teeth are identical,
they both have the same narrow and elongated muzzle,
without the naked space surrounding the nostrils, so well
marked in many of the ruminantia, and lastly both genera
* The Gardens and Menagerie of ihe Zoological Society delineated, No. IX.

3 C

are destitute of the lachrymal openings and brushes on the
knees, so generally to be met with among the antelopes and
deer. In fact, the only real generic difierence between, as
given by Baron Cuvier, consists in the direction of the
horns — these appendages, in the Sheep, being " directed
backwards and returning more or less forward, in a spiral
manner," whilst in the Goats, the horns "are directed
upwards and backwards;" as regards the absence of the
beard in the Sheep, it cannot be assumed as a characteristic
mark, as this is also the case in some species which are
classed among the Goats. The learned naturalist just quoted
also adds, they (the Sheep) little deserve to be generically
separated from the Goats, as they produce prolific hybrids
with them.

But a still more debateable question arises as respects the
different races of the Sheep which are yet found in a wild
state. On the one hand, it would be an extraordinary
anomaly in the laws which regulate the geographical distri-
bution of animals, if, as was formerlj' supposed, the wild
Sheep found in the mountains of Africa, the great chain
extending through central Asia, and the elevated regions of
various parts of the American continent, be admitted as
belonging to the same species, whilst on the other, when
we advert to the slight shades of difference existing between
them, and their close resemblance in every important par-
ticular, strong doubts may be reasonably entertained, of the
propriety of separating them from each other.

Before, however, entering on the history of the subject
of our present illustration, we shall pursue the plan we
have adopted in this work, and make a few observations
on tiie genus Ovis.

To none of the domestic animals is mankind more indebt-
ed for the comforts and luxuries of civilized life than to this
quadruped; others may excel it in strength, speed, and dig-
nity of character, but were we to be deprived of the ser-
vices of any of our attendants among the inferior animals,
we would in all probability find that those of the Sheep
would be as severely felt as any of the others. The inoffen-
sive and mild character of these animals, when under the
control of man, is so well known as to have descended into
a proverb. But when ranging in flocks over the extensive
tracts devoted to them in many countries, and where they
seldom depend on the aid of the shepherd, they display very
different characteristics. Here, being obliged to depend on
their own resources, when threatened with an attack, they
show a courage and resolution which is generally supposed
to be foreign to their nature. Thus, a ram will boldly meet
and drive off a dog or fox, and where the danger is more
alarming, the whole flock unites for common defence, draw-
ing up in a circle, placing the young and females in the
centre, whilst the old males present an armed front to the

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

assailant that is not to be easily vanquished. In the moun-
tainous parts of Wales, it is stated by Bingley,* " they do
not always collect in large flocks, but graze in parties of
from eight to a dozen, of which one is stationed at a distance
from the rest, to give notice of the approach of danger.
When the sentinel observes any one advancing, at the dis-
tance of two or three hundred yards, he turns his face to
the enemj', keeping a watchful eye upon his motions, allow-
ing him to approach as near as eighty or a hundred yards ;
but when the suspected foe manifests a design of coming
nearer, the watchful guard alarms his comrades by a loud
hiss or whistle, twice or thrice repeated, when the whole
party instantly scour away with great agility, always seek-
ing the steepest and most inaccessible parts of the moun-
tains."

The ewe usually produces only one lamb at a time, though
in a flock, it often happens that there are several instances
where they have two, and in some rare cases even three
at a birth. It is a remarkable peculiarity of this species of
animals, that they drink but rarely and sparingly, their
thirst being, in all probability, slaked by the juices of the
vegetables on which they feed, and the dew or rain by
which (he herbage is moistened.

Sheep, like other domestic animals, appear to become
subject to many diseases, which, if not totally wanting, are
at least very rare among them in the wild state. Water
often accumulates in their head; this disease, which is termed
the dunt, is almost invariably fatal ; they are also affected
with an extraordinary species of mortification, called foot-
rot, this will spread through a whole flock, and produce
great devastation ; they are likewise liable to a variety of
other complaints, the most common of which is the rot.
This is known by the dullness of the animal's eyes ; livid
hue of the gums; the sorder on the teeth; the fetor of the
breath, and by the ease with which the wool, and in the
latter stage of it, even the horns may be detached. The
origin of this disease is not clearly understood, the prevail-
ing opinion, however, is that it is owing to feeding Sheep
on wet or moist grounds. Sheep are very obnoxious to the
attacks of certain insects; thus, one of the species of gad fly
is very troublesome, and even dangerous, by depositing its
eggs in the nose, the larva from which breed in immense
numbers in that cavity, and in the frontal sinuses ; they are
also subject to these larva in the skin, as well as to ticks and
lice. The ordinary life of the Sheep, is from twelve to
thirteen years.

The benefits which this amimal bestows on mankind are
exceedingly numerous. Its horns, its flesh, its tallow, and
even its bowels, all furnish articles of great utility. The

* Animal iliograpliy.

horns are manufactured into various articles, as spoons, but-
tons, cups, &c. The flesh is too well known, as one of our
most valuable meats, to require notice. The manufacture
of its wool into cloths has long formed the principal source
of wealth to England, and, in all probability, will become
equally so in this country. The skin, is prepared into
leather, for inferior kinds of shoes, for the coverings of
books, for gloves, and into parchment. The entrails, by a
proper preparation, form those strings for musical instru-
ments known under the name of catgut. The bones are
employed for a variety of purposes in the arts. The milk
has more consistence than that of the cow, but is embued
with a rank taste; the cheese made from it, though rich, is
necessarily strong.

The domestic varieties of the Sheep are exceedingly
numerous; besides the minor distinctions which have origi-
nated from breeding, there are some peculiar to different
countries that deserve notice. The Spanish, or merino,
which are remarkable for the fineness of their wool, and
the form of their horns, are supposed, by some authors, to
have originally been introduced into Spain from England.
The African presents a curious instance of the effects of a
tropical climate. The form of this variety is meagre, their
legs are long, their ears pendant, and the covering of the
body has so much of the drj'ness and crispness of hair, that
it can scarcely be considered as wool.

The Wallachian is remarkable for large spiral horns; this
variety has spread through the different islands of the Medi-
terranean Archipelago, and is also frequent in Austria and
Hungary. The northern regions of Europe afford a variety,
distinguished by having their heads furnished with three,
four, and more horns. But the most striking discrepancy
is found in a race inhabiting the Barbary coast and some
parts of Asia; these animals resemble the common Sheep,
except in the unnatural dimensions of the tail. This is
of a square or round form, like a cushion, and attains the
weight of thirty pounds, rendering it, it is said, so great an
incumbrance to the animal, that it is often found necessary
to support it by a kind of small cart.

The Sheep of Bucharia are also considered by Linnaeus,
as a marked variety. It is from these animals that the Per-
sians derive one of their celebrated articles of luxury. The
lamb skins of Bucharia, which form part of the dress of
every one that can afford it, in Persia, are chiefly procured
from lambs, taken from ewes killed during the period of
gestation. They have a glossy and fur like texture, and are
usually of a gray or black colour.

The last variety we shall notice, is the Tartarian; this is
distinguished by having no tail, and from the immense size
of its rump, which appears like a large tumour, and weighs
as high as forty pounds. The Sheep themselves are also of

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

a proportionate magnitude, their voice resembles rather the
lowing of a calf than the bleating of a Sheep. They are
remarkably prolific, usually producing two, and not unfre-
quently three at a birth. The varieties usually raised in the
United States, are the various English kinds and the merino,
with the various crossed breeds between.

As we have already observed, the wild races approximate
so very closely to each other, as to render it doubtful whe-
ther they may not be identical, and the slight differences
between them be merely owing to change of locality. They
were all included, by Linnaeus, under the specific name of
ammon, in which he has been followed by many recent
naturalists. To bring the whole matter before our readers, we
will, therefore, give a short sketch of each of tlie species, as
admitted by Baron Cuvier, in his last edition of the Regne
Animal, before speaking of that inhabiting this country.
The Siberian Argali, (O. ammon,) which is found in a great
part of northern Asia, is distinguished by horns situate on
the summit of the head, which at first rise upright, then
bend backward.s, and finally twist outwards and upwards,
these horns are triangular at their base, rounded at the
angles, flat on the interior side, and deeply striated trans-
versely. The head resembles that of the common ram,
with, however, smaller ears; it is nearly the size of a small
stag ; the fore legs are shorter than the hinder ; the tail is
very short and white tipped with yellowish. The hair of
the body is very short in summer, and of a yellowish colour,
mixed with gray. In winter it acquires a greater length,
and becomes of a fenuginous gray, with white at the muz-
zle, throat, and under the belly. At all times it has a lighter
spot of colour around the root of the tail. The favourite
resorts of this species are the mountainous districts of Sibe-
ria, Kamschatka, &c. They are gregarious, though the
flocks are small. They form the principal food of the inha-
bitants of those dreary countries. They are shot with fire-
arms, or with bows, sometimes with cross-bows, placed in
their paths, and discharged by their treading on a string
communicating with the trigger. Thej- are so swift, that,
when chased by dogs, they leave their pursuers far in the
rear, though from these animals driving them to situations
in which they are exposed to the aim of the hunter, it is a
favourite mode of chasing them.

The Corsican or Sardinian Argali, (0. initrimon,) is the
species spoken of by Pliny, under the name of murmon.
They are termed Mufri by the Corsicans, and inhabit the
highest parts of the island. They can only be shot or cap-
tured by stratagem. They feed on the roost acrid plants ;
their flesh, though lean, is highly esteemed ; the skin is
thick, and is employed as a hunting shirt, to defend the body
against the thorns and briars in passing through thickets.
From the accounts of some early British writers, it would

prevails on the anterior aspect of the legs. The tail is dark
appear as if this species had once inhabited Scotland. Hec-
tor Boetius speaks of a Sheep in St. Kilda, the descrip-
tion of which agrees with this animal, added to which a
figure of one was discovered in a piece of sculpture taken
from the wall of Antoninus, near Glasgow. The Corsican
Argali only differs from the Siberian, in not being as large,
in the female rarely having horns, and those very small.

The American species is very closely allied to the Sibe-
rian, if not identical with it, the only difference being, that
it is a larger animal, and that its horns form a more spiral
curve. Unfortunately we are but little acquainted with the
habits and peculiarities of this animal ; the following account
if it is principally derived from Dr. Richardson, whose
excellent work on the quadrupeds of the northern parts of
America, we have so frequently drawn upon for informa-
tion.

" Size much greater than the largest sized varieties of
the domestic Sheep. It is bigger than the Argali."

The horns of the male are very large, arise a short way
above the eyes, and occupy almost the whole space between
the ears, but do not touch each other at their bases. They
curve first backwards, then downwards, forwards, and
upwards, until they form a complete turn, during the whole
course of which, they recede from the side of the head in
a spiral manner. They diminish in size rapidly towards
their points, which are turned upwards. At their bases,
and for a considerable portion of their length, they are three
sided, the anterior or upper side being, as it were, thick-
ened, and projecting obtusely at its union with the two
others. This side is marked by transverse furrows, which
are less deep the further they are from the skull ; and
towards the tips the horns are rounded, and but obscurely
wrinkled. The furrows extend to the other two sides of
the horn, but are there less distinct. The intervals of the
furrows swell out, or are rounded.

The horns of the female are much smaller, and nearly
erect, having but a slight curvature, and an inclination back-
wards and outwards.

The ears are of a moderate size; the facial angle straight,
and the general form of the animal rather elegant, being
intermediate betwixt that of the sheep and the stag. Tail
very short. The hair like that of the rein deer, being, on
its first growth in the autumn, short, fine, and flexible; but
as the winter approaches, becoming much coarser, dry, and
brittle, though at the same time it feels soft to the touch.
In the latter season the hair is so close at its roots, that it is
necessarily erect. The legs are covered with shorter hairs.

The head, buttocks, and posterior part of the belly white;
the rest of the body and the neck of a pale umber, or dusky
wood brown, colour. A deeper and more shining brown

196

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

brown, and a narrow brown line, extending from its base,
runs up betwixt the white buttocks, to unite with the brown
colour of the back. The colours reside in the ends of the
hair, and as these are rubbed off, during the progress of the
winter, the tints become paler. The old rams are almost
totally white in the spring."

One of the first accounts we have of the Argali being
found in America, is given bj' Father Piccolo, who estab-
lished a mission in California, in 1697, about two centuries
after the discovery of America, he says " Two sorts of deer
are found here that we know nothing of; we call them sheep,
because they somewhat resemble ours in make. The first
sort is as large as a calf one or two years old ; its head is
much like that of a stag, and its horns, which are very large,
are like those of a ram; its tail and hair are speckled, and
shorter than a stag's; but its hoof is large, round, and cleft
as an ox's. The other sort of sheep, some of which are
white and the others black, differ less from ours. They are
larger, and have good deal more wool, which is ver}^ good,
and easy to be spun and wrought." This description of
the Californian animal was followed by those of Hernandez,
Clavighiero, and Vanegas, the latter of whom gives a figure
which, though defective, is evidently meant for an Argali;
he states that it is about the bigness of a calf a year and a
half old, which it greatly resembles in figure, except in its
head, which is like that of a deer; this author agrees with
Piccolo, in saying that its skin is spotted. From this it
would appear, that the Californian animal, though an Argali,
is different from the species under consideration, which is
never so, according to the recent authors who have spoken
of it; in fact Mr. Douglass has described it under the name
of O. californica.

Although many skins were sent to Europe by the fur tra-
ders, and the existence of a quadruped of the sheep kind
among the high lands of western America was not denied ; the
first clear history of it, is owing to Mr. D. M'Gillivray; this
will be found in the 6th vol. of the New York Medical
Repository, with an indifferent wood cut. This gentleman
also sent a specimen to New Y'ork, where it remained for
some time, in the Museum of Mr. Savage, and was after-
wards, it is stated by Dr. Richardson, transmitted to France,
and a description and figure of it inserted in the »/lnnales du
Museum, by M. Geoffroy.

Some time after this, Lewis and Clark procured speci-
mens of both male and female, which are now in the Phi-
ladelphia Museum. From these our present illustration is
partly taken, though from the decayed and discoloured state
of them, we have also availed ourselves of Landseer's
sketch, (from individuals in the Museum of the Zoological
Society of I^ondon,) contained in Richardson's fauna. It
may be well to mention, that the figures in GriflSth's Ani-

mal Kingdom, and Godman's Natural History, were also
drawn from Lewis and Clark's specimens. The last account
we have of this interesting animal, is furnished, as before-
mentioned, by Dr. Richardson.

The American Argali inhabits the mountainous regions
of country situated in the western part of North America,
not occurring further eastward than the delivity of the
Rocky mountains. They generally frequent the highest
parts of this chain which produce any vegetation, but some-
times descend to feed in the valleys, tiiough on the least
alarm, they fly for shelter to their native precipices, where
the hunter finds it difficult to follow them. Mr. Drum-
mond informed Dr. Richardson, that in the retired parts of
the mountains, where they had seldom been alarmed by
hunters, that he found but little difliculty in approaching
them ; though in spots where they had been often fired at,
that they were extremely shy, alarming their companions
with a hissing noise, like the Chamois.

They assemble in flocks consisting of various numbers,
though seldom exceeding thirty, the young rams and the
females hording together in the winter and spring. The
female brings forth in June or July, when she retires with
her young to the most inaccessible situations.

Mr. M'Gillivray says, the appearance of this animal,
though rather clumsy, is expressive of great activity and
strength, and his agility in traversing the rugged and almost
impassable spots he inhabits is truly surprising, bounding
from rock to rock, like the Ibex. ''Frequently," he con-
tinues, "I have been entertained with a view of one of
them, looking over the brink of a precipice several hundred
yards above my head, scarcely appearing bigger than a
crow, and bidding defiance to all approach. These fright-
ful situations are quite natural to them. They run up
declivities of hard snow or rough ice with facility. Pursu-
ing them in these situations, I have been obliged to cut
steps with my knife, where they passed without difliculty.
Sometimes you think their progress is stopped by a chasm
or projecting rock; but if you attempt too near an approach,
at one bound they are out of your reach."

Their favourite places of resort are the grassy knolls,
situated amidst craggy rocks, which serve them as retreats
when pursued by an enemy. Mr. Drummond also states,
that they are accustomed to pay daily visits to certain caves in
the mountains, which afford a saline efflorescence, of which,
like most other ruminating animals, they are very fond.

All those who have eaten of the flesh of these animals,
particularly of the female and young male, agree that it is
extremely delicate, and preferable to the finest venison;
even the Indians, who live entirely on animal food, may
be supposed epicures in the choice of flesh, agree that the
flesh of the Argali is the sweetest feast in the forest.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

No.

No. 2.

Noles of a Naturalist. By Jacob Green, M. D.
INDIAN ANTIQUITIES.

In the early part of June (1S31,) I passed a day or two
at Wheeling, in Virginia. My visit was rendered exceed-
ingly interesting, by the examination of some of those curi-
ous objects of antiquity which are among the few wrecks of
the history of the former inhabitants of our country, and are
certainly the work of a people much farther advanced in the
arts, and greatly superior in power and civilization to the
rude Indian tribes which now inhabit our western regions.
These vestiges of the arts and manners of our aborigines are
gradually disappearing, and, at no very distant period, the
American antiquary will have to lament, that his predeces-
sors, in this curious field of inquiry, did not rescue from
oblivion more of these remarkable relics.

There appears to have been no ancient fort, camp, or
military work in the immediate vicinity of Wheeling, but
on the western bank of the Ohio river, on the site of this
flourishing town, there was once a village, a place of public
worship, or perhaps merely the habitation of some distin-
guished chieftain.

A few years since, a little to the north of the town, a
hearth or fire place was discovered, not many yards from
the bank of the river, and about four feet below the surface
of the ground. The floor of the hearth was composed of
large flat stones, and was strewed with pieces of charred
wood and with ashes. There were no bricks,* or any
earthen ware found near the place. This spot, I concluded,
must either have been an altar, where religious rites were

* I saw part of a brick found some miles further down the river. Its surface
was fluted^ some mould beins- impressed upon the clay before it was burnt.

3 D

performed, or a hearth for the ordinary culinary operations
of a family.

Some distance to the south of this altar or hearth, was the
place of burial or cemetery. This was first noticed some
years ago, by my friend, Dr. J. W. Clemens, an intelligent
physician and a zealous antiquary, now residing in Wheel-
ing. He informed me, that some workmen, while digging
a cellar for him, in one of the principal streets of the town,
observed a number of human bones, and some fragments of
earthen ware. On oflering them a small premium, they suc-
ceeded in getting out of the tumulus, three or four small
earthen vessels, and a number of arrow heads, stone axes,
and rude ornaments of clay; enough of the skeleton was
also ascertained, to convince Dr. Clemens, that it was buried
in a sitting attitude. Two of the earthen vases, or urns, I
had the pleasure of examining. One of them is in the pos-
session of a gentleman in Wheeling, and the other is now
deposited in the Lambdin Museum, at Pittsburg, Pa. They
were all nearly of the same figure and capacity, and would
contain about one quart. Figure 1, of the accompanying
sketch, is an accurate drawing of the vase in the Museum.
It differs from the others, in being ornamented on the out-
side near the brim, by a line of bead-like protuberances; the
others were entirely plain. The symmetrical proportions
of these vessels, and the smooth surface they present, ren-
ders it highly probable that they were formed in a lathe,
in the same manner as potters ware is now modelled. The
inside of the urns appears to have been blackened either by
smoke, or the articles which they contained. The compo-
sition of which these vessels are made, is a mixture of
talcose earth, clay, and pounded muscle shells, the unios of
the Ohio river. They are without glazing, and have not
been burned in a kiln, as our common earthen ware, but

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

merely hardened by exposure to the sun and air, for by
minutely examining these shells mixed with the clay, they
wercnot in the smallest degree calcined ; in most cases the
nacre of the shell is quite pearly and glittering. They are
capable of supporting, however, a high temperature, for
Dr. Clemens boiled water in one of them.

There is a delicacy, perfection, and symmetry in most of
the earthen vessels, found in the ancient tumuli of the west,
which cannot be observed in any of the other articles which
are usually disinterred along with them. The stone axes,
arrow heads, and other implements are often of the rudest
construction. From this circumstance I think it probable,
that the females, or the priests, or those whose ordinary
occupations confined them at home, were the ancient Ame-
rican potters, and that the other articles were fabricated by
men engaged in the bustle and business of war, or in the
pursuits of the chase. In the Philadelphia Museum, how-
ever, there are some ver}^ curiously wrought instruments of
stoni, and among the rest a kind of tomahawk, made from a
beautiful mass of translucent quartz. Perhaps this instrument
was made and used by the priests, to immolate their victims.

Dr. Clemens informed me, that two of the above vases,
when first discovered, were filled with the bones of some
small quadruped, and as far as he could identify the crumb-
ling fragments, tliey were those of the rabbit or squirrel.
They were deposited by the side of the deceased, that he
might have, according to a traditionary superstitious notion,
something to eat at the resurrection or reanimation of his
body. This story, I have no doubt, is the invention of the
present race of Indians, who now inhabit our western wilds.
It has been the usage of many ancient nations, an usage which
is, even now, scarcely obsolete, to bury in the same grave
some symbol of the favourite amusement or occupation of
the deceased. Thus, with the bones of the warrior, a battle
axe will often be found, or perhaps his arrows and bow.
Mr. Atwater, the indefatigable antiquary of Ohio, remarks,
"that with the hunter is often interred, that kind of wild
game of which he had been the fondest, or the most success-
ful in taking. Hence, the teeth of the otter are found in the
grave of one, and those of the beaver in that of another."
One who had been successful in fishing, is distinguished by
a number of fish bones and muscle shells. If these opinions
be correct, the ancient American, whose skeleton was found
at Wheeling, must have been a famous hunter of the squir-
rel, or the rabbit.

In the transactions of the American Antiquarian Society,
vol. i. page 227, there is the sketch of a vase very much
resembling the one we have given at figure 1, but it is more
globose, better proportioned, and more highly finished ; it
was obtained in a mound, a few miles from Chilicothe.
Dr. Hildreth, of Marietta, has also described a vessel,

<' nearly in the form of a cocoa nut shell," with four neat
handles near the brim, opposite to each other; it was found
in the bank of an island, not far from Belpre. These ves-
sels seemed to have contained calcined human bones, and
from their dark appearance, oil seems to have been poured
into them along with the bones. In Pennant's Tour in Scot-
land, vol. i. plate 21, there is the representation of a fine
urn, discovered in a cairn or mound, near the town of Banff.
This vase is thought by ]\Ir. Atwater, to resemble the one
found near Chilicothe, and which is so much like our
figure 1; but the likeness, in my estimation, is exceedingly
remote. Yet though there is little similarity in the shape of
these vessels, a variety of circumstances connected with
them, intimate a great resemblance between the manners
and customs of the people, by whom they were manufac-
tured and used. That the sepulchral rites of the early inha-
bitants of Scotland, were very analagous to those of the
ancient tribes of Americans, who lived near Wheeling,
must strike every one who reads Pennant's account of the
urn of Banff. " It was discovered in a cairn or tumulus, in
a coffm of flat stones; it was ornamented, but round it were
placed three others, smaller and quite plain, the contents of
each were the same, ashes, burnt bones, and flint arrow
heads. There was also in the larger urn and one of the
lesser, a small slender bone, four inches long, apparently
not human, but the animal to which it belonged, and the
use were unknown. The materials of the urn, consist of
a course clay, mixed with small stones and sand, which have
evidently been only dried and not burnt; the inside of the
larger urn was blackened, probably with the oil from the
bones." This is the substance of Pennant's account. It
will be recollected, that at the cairn at Wheeling, one orna-
mented urn and several plain ones were found, and that in
several other particulars, that burial place resembles the one
above described.

Figure 2 of our drawing, represents an earthen ware bot-
tle, found in Scott county, state of Mississippi, twenty feet
below the surface. The clay is much purer, and the work-
manship far superior to the Wheeling urns. It is of a dark
umber colour, and was brought from the tumulus by my
friend, Mr. S. of Pittsburg, and given to the Museum. In
examining the smooth and polished surface of this beautiful
vessel, it is scarcely possible to resist the inference that it
was moddled in a potter's lathe. The drawing made of it,
by the kindness of Mr. Lambdin, a promising artist and
the liberal proprietor of the Museum, w^ill give a correct
idea of its general appearance. It will contain about a quart.
The clay and the shells of which it is composed, must have
been thoroughly beaten and worked together before it was
moulded.

It is difficult to conjecture to what use this antique bottle

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

199

was applied. It was most probably used in their burial
ceremonies, or was in some way connected with their
superstitious rites. I have seen some ancient Grecian lachry-
matories, not very unlike it in figure; and perhaps the abo-
rigines of the west, employed this vessel to gather the tears
in honour of the dead. On the upper part of the body of
the vessel, there are four representations of the head of
some quadruped. When I first examined these rude speci-
mens of sculpture, I supposed, that the head of the animal
intended by the artist, was that of the hog. The head of
the Sus tajassu, or INIexican hog, cut ofi" square, was found
a few years ago, in a good state of preservation, in one of
the saltpetre caves of Kentucky. Dr. Drake's notice of
this curious circumstance, which I have just read, confirms
this opinion; though an ingenious friend has supposed, that
the head carved on the vase, was that of the bear. The
head mentioned by Dr. Drake, seems to have been pre-
served with superstitious care, with the same intent, proba-
bly, that the ibis and the beetle were embalmed by the
Egyptians.

That bottles ornamented with various devices, were
sometimes used by our aborigines, for idolatrous purposes,
is quite certain, from the one found at Natchez, and now
in the cabinet of the American Antiquarian Society, and
also from the three headed bottle, discovered in a mound,
on the Cumberland river. These heads are supposed by
Mr. Atwater, to represent the three principal idols of India,
Brahma, Vishnoo, and Siva. He, therefore, is of opinion,
that the authors of our ancient works in the west, originated
in Hindostan. These works, we know, are located near
our principal rivers. " To the consecrated streams of Hin-
dostan, devotees assembled from all parts of the empire, to
worship their gods, and to purify themselves by bathing in
their sacred waters. In this country, the sacred places of
the aborigines were uniformly on the bank of some river,
and who knows, but that the INIuskingum, the Scioto, the
Miami, the Ohio, the Cumberland, and the JVIississippi,
were once deemed as sacred, and their banks as thickly
settled and as well cultivated, as are now, the Indus, the
Ganges, and the Burrampooter." J. G.

THE GOLDEN EAGLE.

FALCO CHRYSAETOS.

In symmetry, in strength, in the vigour of her wing, the
acuteness of her vision, and the terrible clutch of her talons,
the Golden Eagle is superior to every other bird ; and as
her habitation is always in those time-built palaces, the

most lofty and inaccessible precipices, there is sublimity in
her dwelling; and though in reality a long-lived bird, she
has popularly gained a sort of immortality, from the durable
nature of her abode. It appears to be one of the general
provisions of nature, that the most powerful destroyers of
living animals should have their favourite haunts in the
most lonely places; and in this, the lion, the most powerful
of quadrupeds, and the Golden Eagle, the most vigorous of
birds, completely agree. There is, however, a wonderful
difierence in the distances at which they can discover their
prey: the lion springs only a few yards, wliile the eagle
darts down from the mid-heaven, in one perpendicular and
accelerating stoop.

The Golden Eagle is among the largest as well as the
most powerful of birds. Specimens have been found, mea-
suring nearly four feet in length, and about nine feet across
the wings, when they were fully extended. Specimens of
much larger dimensions have also been seen, one of which
was shot at Warkworth, measured eleven feet three inches
from the tip of the one wing to that of the other, and
weighed eighteen pounds. Probably large specimens were
more abundant formerly, when the wild countries were left
freer to their range than they are now. The average dimen-
sions may be taken at three feet long, and seven feet and a
half in expanse, in the male; and three feet and a half long,
and eight feet in expanse, in the female. This great extent
of wings, makes these when folded as long as the tail. Con-
sidering its breadth and strength, the Golden Eagle is not
a very heavy animal, the average weight being about twelve
pounds for the male, and fifteen for the female. The figure
is, however, compact, and the parts admirably balanced ;
and both the individual parts and the general arrangement
and symmetry, are indicative of great strength. In order
that the powerful muscles and tendons by which the talons
are moved may be protected from the weather, the tarsi,
or feet-bones of the Eagle are closely feathered, down to
the very division of the toes. The general colour of the
toes, is yellow; they are defended above by horny plates,
or scales, of which there are only three on the last joint of
each toe, and they are furnished with talons, which are
strong, black, sharp, and very much hooked. So admirable
is the mechanism by which the toes and talons of the Eagle
are moved, that a dried foot may be made to act powerfully
by pulling the tendons, long after it has been dead; and the
tendons themselves are among the toughest of natural sub-
stances. There is considerable dignity in the repose of the
Eagle; she usually sits upon a pinnacle of rock, where she
can command an extensive view; and the head is often
recurvated, so that one eye is directed to the front, and the
other to the rear. The knobs on the under part of the toes
prevent any injury from the roughest rock, and take a firm

200

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

hold of the most slippery: so that the Eagle on her two feet
seems as firmly based as most quadrupeds do on four. The
hold which she thus takes of the surface, and the powerful
action of the muscles that move the toes, give her another
advantage; for by those combined powers, she can throw
herself with a bound into the air, at the same time that she
expands her wings, and thus, contrary to the vulgar belief,
rear usually from level ground. When, however, the Eagle
has been feeding in any other place than near her abode,
she shows an unwillingness to rise. As she is so constituted
as to be able to bear hunger four or five weeks, her feeding
is voracious in proportion; and as, notwithstanding that she
shows considerable adroitness in plucking birds, and skin-
ning quadrupeds, she always swallows, more or less, of the
indigestible e.vuvise, as well as the bones of the smaller prey,
her meal is heavy. This, in all probability, has given rise
to the vulgar opinion.

The following description of tlie adult female, given in
Selby's admirable work on " British Ornithology," is accu-
rate:— Bill bluish at the base, the tip black. Cere, (the
naked skin at the base of the bill,) lemon-j'ellow. Irides,
orange-brown. Primary quills, black, the secondary ones,
clouded with hair-brown, broccoli-brown, and umber-
brown. Crown of the head, and nape of the neck, pale
orange-brown; the feathers occasionally marginated with
white, narrow, elongated, and distinct. Chin and throat,
dark umber-brown. Vent, pale reddish brown. Tail, pale
broccoli-brown, barred with blackish brown, and ending in
a broad band of the same colour. Tarsi, clothed with pale
reddish-brown feathers. Toes naked, yellow. Claws black,
very strong, and much hooked.

In the young bird, the irides of the eyes are not so yel-
low; the back and coverts of the wings are of a deeper
brown; there are some white feathers on the breast and
belly; the inside of the thighs are white; the feathers on
the tarsi, white; the feathers of the wings, white at their
bases; and the tail, white, for a part of its length from the
root, which becomes less at each successive moulting.
These distinctions diminish till the fourth year, when the
bird arrives at its full size; they are then lost, and the age
cannot be known for a number of years. The story that is
usually told about the Eagle renewing her age, is of course
without foundation, though it probably relates to the moult-
ing or change of the feathers, which happens to the Eagle
as well as to other birds.

Though the Golden Eagle, as found in England, be per-
fectly untameable, there is a constant sexual attachment in
the race. The greater number of other birds pair only
during the breeding season, and become indifferent to each
other after the young can subsist by themselves; but the
nuptials of the Eagle are for life. After a male and female

have paired, they never separate, or change their abode,
and rear all their successive broods in the same nest, which
being made of strong twigs five or six feet long, firmly wat-
tled and placed in some fissure or hollow of an abrupt rock,
is supposed to last for centuries with only additional repairs.
The pair, though they drive off their young, and, indeed,
every creature but man, whose haunts they shun, are closely
associated together: when the ons is seen for any length of
time, the other is sure not to be far distant; and the one
may often be seen flying low and beating the bushes, while
the other floats high in air, in order to pounce upon the
frightened prey.

The time that they live, has not been accurately ascer-
tained ; but their longevity must be very great. In their
strength they are proof against the elements, for the strong-
est gale does not much impede their motion; and their
powers of endurance enable them to sustain very great
casualties in respect of food. In many parts of Scotland,
where they are much more numerous than in England,
there are pairs that have nestled in the same cliffs, beyond
the memory of the inhabitants. One of these places is
Lochlee, at the head of the North Esk in Forfarshire. That
lake lies in a singular basin, between perpendicular cliffs on
the north, and high and precipitous mountains on the south.
A pair of Eagles inhabit each side, so that three may some-
times be seen floating in the air at once; but those that have
their abode in the inaccessible clifis on the north, seem to
be lords of the place, as the south ones do not venture to
beat the valley while these are on the wing. Nor is it in
their native freedom only that Eagles attain a great age;
for there was one kept in a state of confinement at Vienna
for one hundred and four years.

The female lays usually two eggs, which are supposed to
produce a male and a female; sometimes she lays only one,
and very rarely three. The eggs are of a dirty-white colour
with reddish spots. The young are produced after thirty
days' incubation. When they come out of the shell, they
arc covered with a white down; and their first feathers are
of a pale yellow. They are exceedingly voracious; and the
old ones, though they drive them from the eyrie as soon as
they are able to shift for themselves, are, up to that period,
equally assiduous in finding them food, and bold in defend-
ing them from attack. The vicinity of an Eagle's nest is
usually indeed a scene of blood, as the prey, if not killed
by the blow of the wing or the clutch of the talons, is car-
ried to the ledge that contains the nest, and despatched
there.

Of the boldness of the Eagles at that time, many stories
are told; and they are so universal, that there must be some
foundation for tliem. When the old ones are at the nest,
the boldest fowler dares not approach it, as one flap of the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

wing will strike a man dead to the ground. Even when
they are absent, an attack on their brood is far from safe,
as they see so far, and can come so rapidly. An Irish
peasant had discovered the eyrie of a pair of Eagles on one
of the islands in the Lake of Killarney; and watching the
absence of the parents, he swam to the island, climbed the
rocks, made prize of the Eaglets, and dashing into the lake,
made for the shore; but before he had reached it, and while
only his head was above water, the Eagles came, killed him
on the spot, and bore off their rescued brood in triumph.
In the northern islands, where cormorants, gulls, and other
aquatic birds breed in immense numbers, the Eagles com-
mit terrible devastation among the young; though in these
places the Sea Eagle is often mistaken for the Golden
Eagle. They also attack full-grown deer, and even foxes,
wolves, and bears; they generally fasten on the heads of
the larger quadrupeds, tear out their eyes, and then beat
them to death with their wings.

There are accounts of their carrying off infants in Britain;
and in places farther to the north, they have carried off
children a little more advanced. Instances of this are
mentioned in Iceland, in the Faroe islands, and in Nor-
way. In the parish of Nooder-hangs in the last country,
a boy two years of age was carried off in 1737, though his
parents were close at hand, and made all the exertions in
their power to scare the spoiler; nor were they able to
follow her to the place of her retreat. In Tinkalen (Faroe
islands) a child was carried ofl', and the mother climbed the
liitherto unascended precipice, but the child was dead.
Ray mentions a case in the Orkneys, where the mother
was more fortunate; and it probably is the foundation of
the following tale, which appeared in Blackwood's Maga-
zine for November, 1826, and which bears the exquisitely
graphic stamp of Professor Wilson.

The Story of Hannah Lamond. — "Almost all the peo-
ple in the parish were leading in their meadow-hay on the
same day of Midsummer, so drying was the sunshine and
the wind, — and huge heaped-up wains, that almost hid from
view the horses that drew them along the sward, beginning
to get green with second growth, were moving in all di-
rections towards the snug farm-yards. Never had the
parish seemed before so populous. Jocund was the balmy
air with laughter, whistle, and song. But the treegnomens
tlirew the shadow of ' one o'clock' on the green dial-face
of the earth — the horses were unyoked, and took instantly
to grazing — groups of men, women, lads, lasses, and chil-
dren, collected under grove and bush, and hedge-row, —
graces were pronounced, and the great Being who gave
them that day their daily bread, looked down from his
eternal throne, well-pleased with the piety of his thankful
creatures. The great Golden Eagle, the pride and the pest
3E

of the parish, stooped down, and away with sometliing in
his talons. One single, sudden female shriek — and then
shouts and outcries as if a church-spire had tumbled down
on a congregation at a sacrament! 'Hannah Lamond's
bairn! Hannah Lamond's bairn!' was the loud, fast spread-
ing cry. <The Eagles ta'en aff Hannah Lamond's bairn!'
and many hundred feet were in another instant hurrying
towards the mountain. Two miles of hill, and dale, and
copse, and shingle, and many intersecting brooks lay be-
tween; but in an incredibly short time, the foot of the
mountain was alive with people. The eyrie was well-
known, and both old birds were visible on the rock-ledge.
But who shall scale that dizzy cliff, which Mark Steuart the
sailor, who had been at the storming of many a fort, at-
tempted in vain? All kept gazing, weeping, wringing of
hands in vain, rooted to the ground, or running back and
forwards, like so many ants essa}ing their new wings in
discomfiture. 'What's the use — what's the use o' ony puir
human means? We have no power but in prayer!' and
many knelt down — fathers and mothers, thinking of their
own babies, as if they would force the deaf heavens to hear!

"Hannah Lamond had all this while been sitting on a
rock, with a face perfectly white, and eyes like those of a
mad person, fixed on the eyrie. Nobody had noticed her;
for strong as all sympathies with her had been at the swoop
of the Eagle, they were now swallowed up in the agony of
eyesight. ' Only last Sabbath was my sweet wee wean
baptized:' and on uttering these words, she flew off through
the brakes and over the huge stones, up — up — up — faster
than ever huntsman ran in to the death, — fearless as a goat
playing among precipices. No one doubted, no one could
doubt, that she would soon be dashed to pieces. But have
not people who walk in their sleep, obedient to the myste-
rious guidance of dreams, clomb the walls of old ruins, and
found footing, even in decrepitude, along the edge of un-
guarded battlements and down dilapidated staircases, deep
as draw-wells or coal-pits, and returned with open, fixed,
and unseeing eyes, unharmed to their beds, at midnight?
It is all the work of the soul, to whom the body is a slave;
and shall not the agony of a mother's passion — who sees her
baby, whose warm mouth has just left her breast, hurried
off by a demon to a hideous death — bear her limbs aloft
wherever there is dust to dust, till she reach that devour-
ing den, and fiercer and more furious far, in the passion of
love, than any bird of prey that ever bathed its beak in
blood, throttle the fiends, that with their heavy wings,
would fain flap her down the cliffs, and hold up her child
in deliverance before the eye of the all-seeing God?

"No stop — no stay — she knew not that she drew her
breath. Beneath her feet Providence fastened every loose
stone, and to her hands strengthened every root. How

202

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

was she ever to descend ? That fear, then, hut once crossed
her heart, as up — up — up to the little image made of her
own flesh and blood. ' The God who holds me now from
perishing — will not the same God save me when my child
is on my bosom?' Down came the fierce rushing of the
Eagles' wings — each savage bird dashing close to her head,
so that she saw the yellow of their wrathful eyes. All at
once they quailed, and were cowed. Yelling, they flew off"
to the slump of an ash jutting out of a cliif, a thousand
feet above the cataract, and the Christian mother falling
across the eyrie, in the midst of bones and blood, clasped
her child — dead — dead — dead, no doubt, — but unmangled
and untorn, and swaddled up just as it was when she laid
it down asleep among the fresli hay, in a nook of the harvest
field. Oh! what pang of perfect blessedness transfixed her
heart from that faint feeble cry — 'It lives — it lives — it
lives!' and baring her bosom, with loud laughter and eyes
dry as stones, she felt the lips of the unconscious innocent
once more murmuring at the fount of life and love!

"Where, all this while, was Mark Steuart, the sailor?
Half way up the cliffs. But his eye had got dim, and his
head dizz}', and his heart sick; and he who had so often
reefed the top-gallant-sail, when at midnight the coming of
the gale was heard afar, covered his face with his hands,
and dared look no longer on the swimming heights. 'And
who will take care of my poor bed-ridden mother,' thought
Hannah, whose soul, through the exhaustion of so many
passions, could no more retain in its grasp that hope which
it had clutched in despair. A voice whispered 'God.'
She looked round expecting to see an angel, but nothing
moved except a rotten branch, that under its own weight,
broke ofi' from tlie crumbling rock. Her eye, by some secret
sympathy of her soul with the inanimate object, watched its
fall; and it seemed to stop, notfaroff'on a small platform. Her
child was bound within her bosom — she remembered not
how or when — but it was safe — and scarcely daring to open
her eyes, she slid down the shelving rocks, and found herself
on a small piece of firm root-bound soil, with the tops of
bushes appearing below. With fingers suddenly strength-
ened into the power of iron, she swung herself down by
briar and broom, and heather, and dwarf birch. There a
loosened stone lept over a ledge, and no sound was heard,
so profound was its fall. There, the shingle rattled down
the screes, and she hesitated not to follow. Her feet
bounded against the huge stone that stopped them, but she
felt no pain. Her body was callous as the cliff. Steep as
the wall of a house was now the side of the precipice.
But it was matted with ivy, centuries old — long ago dead,
and without a single green leaf — but with thousands of
arm-thick stems petrified into the rock, and covering it as
with a trellice. She bound her baby to her neck, and

with hands and feet clung to that fearful ladder. Turning
round her head, and looking down, lo! the whole population
of the parish, so great was the multitude, on their knees!
and hush, the voice of psalms — a hymn, breathing the
spirit of one united prayer! Sad and solemn was the strain
— but nothing dirge-like — breathing not of death, but de-
liverance. Often had she sung that tune, perhaps the very
words, but them she heard not, in her own hut — she and
her mother — or in the kirk, along with all the congrega-
tion. An unseen hand seemed fastening her fingers to the
ribs of ivy, and in sudden inspiration, believing that her
life was to be saved, she became almost as fearless as if she
had been changed into a winged creature. Again her feet
touched stones and earth — the psalm was hushed — but a
tremulous sobbing voice was close beside her, and lo! a
she goat, with two little kids at her feet!' 'Wild heights,'
thought she, ' do these creatures climb, but the dam will
lead down her kid by the easiest paths; for 0, even in
the brute creatures, what is the holy power of a mother's
love!' and turning round her head, she kissed her sleep-
ing baby, and for the first time she wept.

" Overhead frowned the front of the precipice, never
touched before by human hand or foot. No one had ever
dreamt of scaling it; and the Golden Eagles knew that well
in their instinct, as, before they built their e5'rie, they had
brushed it with their wings. But all the rest of this part
of the mountain side, though scarred, and seamed, and
chasmed, was yet accessible — and more than one person
in the parish had reached the bottom of the Glead's Cliflf.
Many were now attempting it, and ere the cautious mother
had followed her dumb guides a hundred j-ards through,
among dangers that, although enough to terrify the stoutest
heart, were traversed by her without a shudder, the head
of one man appeared, and then the head of another, and she
knew that God had delivered her and her child in safety,
into the care of their fellow-creatures. Not a word was
spoken — eyes said enough — she hushed her friends with
her hands, and with uplifted eyes pointed to the guides sent
to her by heaven. Small green plats, where those crea-
tures nibble the wild flowers, became now more frequent
trodden lines, almost as easy as sheep-paths, showed that
the dam had not led her young into danger; and now the
brushwood dwindled away into straggling shrubs, and the
party stood on a little eminence above the stream^ and
forming part of the strath. There had been trouble and
agitation, much sobbing and many tears among the multi-
tude, while the mother was scaling the cliffs, — sublime was
the shout that echoed afar the moment she reached the
eyrie, — and now that her salvation was sure, the great
crowd rustled like a wind-swept wood.

"And for whose sake was all this alternation of agony?

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

203

A poor humble creature, unknown to many even by name
— one who had had but few friends, nor wished for more —
contented to work all day, here — there — anywhere — that
she might be able to support her aged mother and her little
child — and who on sabbath took her seat in an obscure
pew, set apart for paupers in the kirk!

« ' Fall back, and give her fresh air, said the old minis-
ter of the parish; and the circle of close faces widened
round her, lying as in death. ' Gie me the bonny bit bairn
into my arms,' cried first one mother, and then another,
and it was tenderly handed round the circle of kisses,
many of the snooded maidens bathing its face in tears.
' There's no a single scratch about the puir innocent, for
the Eagle, you see, maun, hae stuck its talons into the
long claes and the shawl. Blin! blin! maun they be who
see not the finger o' God in this thing!'

" Hannah started up from her swoon, looking wildly
round, and cried, '0! the bird, the bird! — the Eagle, the
Eagle! The Eagle has carried off my bonny wee Walter —
is there nane to pursue?' A neighbour put her baby into
her breast, — and shutting her eyes, and smiting her fore-
head, the sorely bewildered creature said in a low voice,
' Am I wauken — 0 tell me if I'm wauken, or if a' this be
the wark o' a fever, and the delirium o' a dream.?' "

The strength of wing and muscular vigour of the Eagle
are truly astonishing. The flesh has not, as some have
alleged, any offensive smell or taste, but it resembles a
bundle of cords, and cannot be eaten. Some notion of its
power may be formed from the statement of Ramond, when
he had ascended JNIont Perdu, the loftiest of the Pyrenees,
and nearly three miles above the level of the sea. He had
for a considerable distance bid adieu to every living thing,
animal or vegetable; but right over the summit there was
a Golden Eagle far above him, dashing rapidly to wind-
ward against a strong gale, and apparently in her element
and at her ease.

In the regions which she inhabits, the Golden Eagle,
like the lion, owns no superior but man, and she owns
him as such only on account of his intellectual resources.
When taken ever so young, there is no very well authen-
ticated account of the taming of an Eagle. The wandering
hordes to the eastward of the Caspian sea, do, indeed, train
Eagles to hunt both game and wild beasts; and Marco
Polo, the father of modern travellers, who, in the early
part of the thirteenth century, spent six and twenty years
in a pilgrimage over the east, and revealed the wonders of
the whole, as far as Cathay or China itself, records the
Eagle hunts at the court of the great Khan of Tartary, as
among the greatest marvels with which he met. It is pro-
bable that the Eagle thus trained to falconry, may have

been the imperial Eagle, which is much more common in
the south and east, and which, though a powerful bird, is
not quite so savage as the Golden Eagle. That the Eagle
was never used in European falconry, is certain. It is
invariably classed with the " ignoble falcons," or those
that keep as well as kill their prey. One bird is said to
give the Eagle more trouble than any other, and that is
the heron, rather a light and feeble bird. The heron gets
under the shelter of a stone, or the stump of a tree, where
neither the wing nor the talons of the Eagle can be eflTec-
tive; and from that position it twists round its long neck,
and bites and gnaws the leg of its enemy. Several years
ago, a heron was put into the cage of a powerful Eagle, at
the Duke of Athol's, at Blair. It immediately betook
itself to the shelter of a block of wood, which the Eagle
had for a perch, and began to nibble and bite; nor did the
Eagle vanquish it till after a contest of twenty-four hours.
It is not very often, however, that the Golden Eagle fre-
quents the haunts of the heron; her favourite ranges are
the open moors and uplands, where the prey can be seen
from a great distance, and there is little cover to shelter
it. In England they do not often come to the woods,
though they do so in the mountainous parts of France,
where the winter is proportionally more severe, and the
animals, upon which they prey at other times, are passing
the cold season dormant in their holes.

AN EXPLANATION

Of the Technical Terms used hj Ornithologists, descriptive of particular
parts.

A — AuRicuLARs, — feathers which cover the ears.

BB — The BASTARD WING, [alulia spuria, Lin.] three
or five quill-like feathers, placed at a small joint rising at
the middle part of the wing.

204

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

CC — The LESSER COVERTS of the wings, \tectr ices prima:,
Lin.] small feathers that lie in several rows on the bones
of the wings. The under coverts are those that line the
inside of the wings.

DD — The GREATER coverts, \tectrices secundse, Lin.]
the feathers that lie immediately over the quill feathers and
the secondaries.

GG — The PRIMARIES, or primary quills, [primores,
Lin.] the largest feathers of the wings: they rise from the
first bone.

EE — The secondaries, or secondary quills, [^secon-
durise, Lin.] those that rise from the second bone.

HII — The TERTiALS. These also take their rise from the
second bone, at the elbow joint, forming a continuation of
the secondaries, and seem to do the same with the scapu-
lars, which lie over them. These feathers are so long in
some of the Scolopax and Tringa genera, that when the
bird is flying, they give it the appearance of having four
wings.

SS — The SCAPULARS, or scapular feathers, take their
rise from the shoulders, and cover the sides of the back.

p — Coverts of the tail, [uropygium, Lin.] These fea-
thers cover it on the upper side, at the base.

V — The VENT feathers, [crissum, Lin.] those that lie
from the vent, or anus, to the tail underneath.

These hairs in this bird are very stiff, and spread out on
each side like a comb from the upper sides of the mouth
only.

Serrated like a saw. Pectinated signifies toothed like
a comb.

The Lore, [loriim, Lin.] as in the Grebe, the space be-
tween the bill and the eye, which in this genus is bare, but
in other birds is generally covered with feathers.

Fin-footed and scalloped, [pin7iatus, Lin.] as in the
feet of Coots.

Pes lobatus, (Lin.) Toes furnished on the sides with
broad plain membranes, as in the feet of the Grebe.

Wer-footed, — where the toes are connected by webs,
as in Ducks.

Semi-palmated, \semi-palmatus, Linnaeus,] when the
middle of the webs reach only about half the length of the
toes.

Ciliated, [linguia siliata, Lin.] when the tongue is
edged with fine bristles, as in Ducks.

Nostrils linear, — when they are extended lengthwise
in a line with the bill, as in Divers, &c.

Nostrils pervious, — when they are open, and may be
seen through from side to side, as in Gulls, &c.

Seicick.

Iris, (plural irides) the part which surrounds the pupil
of the eye.

Mandibles, — the upper and under parts of the bill.

Cosepressed, — flatted at the sides vertically.

Depressed, — flatted horizontally.

CuNEATED, — wedge-shaped.

The CERE, \^cera, Lin.] the naked skin which covers the
base of the bill, as in the Hawk kind.

The orbits, [orbit a, Lin.] the skin which surrounds the
eye. It is generally bare, but particularly in the Parrot and
the Heron.

When the bill is notched near the tip, as in Shrikes,
Thrushes, &c. it is called by Linnaeus rostrum emargina-
tum.

Vibrissas, (Lin.) are hairs that stand forward like feel-
ers: in some birds they are slender, as in Flycatchers, &c.
and point both upwards and downwards, from both the up-
per and under sides of the mouth.

Capistrum, — a word used by Linnaeus to express the
short feathers on the forehead, just above the bill. In
some birds these feathers fall forward over the nostrils:
they quite cover those of the Crow.

Rostrum cultratum, (Lin.) when the edges of the bill
are very sharp, as in that of the Crow.

Vibrissa: pectinatx, (Lin.) as in the Whip-poor-will.

WHIRLWINDS AND WATERSPOUTS.

The following table shows the velocities of the different
winds, from one mile in an hour, when the motion is
scarcely perceptible, to one hundred miles, which is the
speed of the destructive hurricane.

Miles Feet

ler hour. per second.

1 1.47

^ ^-^^^ Light airs.

3 4.40 5

4 5.87? r.

5 7.33 r^'"'"-

10 14-"? Brisk gale.

15 22.O0S °

> Fresh gale.
25 36.673 ^

30 44.01? „, ,

35 51.34(^''"°"S§^le.

40 58.88? „ J ,

45 66.01 ^"^■•''S^'^-

50 73.35? c*

>• Storm.
60 88.02 3

') Hurricanes tearing up trees, over-
go 117 36 f . of >

■ > turning buildings, and almost every

) other obstacle.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

When, from a sudden rarefaction, or any other cause,
contrary currents of air meet in the same spot, a Whirl-
wind is produced. Dr. Franklin gives an account of the
formation and progress of one of these meteors, which he
witnessed in Maryland, while travelling with his son. " In
a valley below us," says he, " we saw a small whirlwind,
which began in the road, and which drew attention by the
dust that it raised and contained. It appeared like a sugar-
loaf, lengthened at the point, which ascended to us along
the hill, increasing in size as it advanced. When it passed
near us, its smaller end, which was next the ground, did
not appear bigger than a common barrel, but it grew so
large towards the summit, that at the height of forty or
fifty feet it seemed to be twenty or thirty feet in diameter.
The rest of the company stopped to look at it; but, as m)--
curiosity was stronger than theirs, I followed it closely,
and observed that, on its passage, it licked up, if I may use
the expression, all the dust which was beneath its lower
end. As it is a popular opinion that a shot fired at a water-
spout will make it burst, I endeavoured to break this small
whirlwind, by striking it repeated blows with my whip,
but to no purpose. In a short time it quitted the road, and
entered the wood, where it every moment became larger
and stronger, carrying away, instead of dust, the dry leaves
with which the ground was thickly strewed, and making
a great noise between those leaves and the branches of
trees, bending and turning large trees circularly with asto-
nishing force. Though the progressive motion of the
whirlwind was not so fast but that a man on foot might
easily keep up with it, yet its circular motion was astonish-
ingly rapid. The leaves with which it was then filled
enabled me to perceive distinctly that the current of air
that drove them ascended from below to above in a spiral
line, and when I looked at the trunks and bodies of great
trees which the whirlwind had enveloped as it passed on,
and which had left it entire, I was no longer astonished
that my whip could produce no effect on it. I followed it
nearly three quarters of a mile, till some dead branches of
trees, broken by the whirlwind, flying in the air, and fall-
ing around me, made me apprehensive of danger. I there-
fore stopped, and contented myself with watching the
head of it during its progress, the leaves which it bore
with it rendering it visible at a great height above the
trees. The major part of these leaves, escaping freely from
the upper and widest part of the whirlwind, were dispersed
by the wind; but they were at such an elevation in the air
that they did not seem larger than flies. My son followed
the whirlwind through the wood, on quitting which it
crossed an old tobacco plantation, where, finding neither
leaves nor dust to carry away, the lower part of it became
3F

nearly invisible, and at lengtli it entirel}' disappeared above
this field." This meteor moved in a direction almost op-
posite to the prevailing wind, and not in a straight line;
and its velocity was not uniform, as it seemed occasionally
to be stationary for a few seconds, and then to rush for-
ward with increased speed.

It is not always, however, that whirlwinds are thus
harmless. They are often combined with electrical phe-
nomena, in which case they scatter destruction over a con-
siderable extent of country. France, particularly in the
south, has often suffered from their violence. In August
1S23, one of them, of great magnitude, ravaged the neigh-
bourhood of Anet, in the department of the Eure and Loire.
It extended from the clouds to the ground, and was
formed of a thick and blackish vapour, in the midst of
which flames frequently appeared in various directions.
Rushing furiously forward, it rooted up and broke seven or
eight hundred trees within the space of a league, and then
fell impetuously on the village of JNIarchefroy. Half the
houses of the village were destroyed in an instant; the
walls were prostrated on all sides, and the roofs were torn
off, and carried to the distance of half a league, by the irre-
sistible impulse of the aerial torrent. At the same time
the meteor discharged a shower of hailstones, several inches
in diameter, which broke to pieces heavily laden wagons,
and destroyed every vestige of the harvest. A still more
terrific visitation of this kind was experienced in August,
1826, in the department of the Aude. About noon, the
clouds began to gather in the west, a violent wind arose,
and a black and thick cloud appeared suspended over a
spot called the Red Field. On the side of Fombraise, the
clouds were seen to rush against each other, and to descend
very low, as if they were attracted by the earth. The
thunder echoed from all parts; a dead rolling sound was
heard; and all the domestic animals fled to shelter. All at
once a frightful cracking was heard in the west; the air,
violently agitated, was drawn with extreme rapidity to-
wards the opake cloud which covered the Red Field. The
moment of their junction was marked by a loud explosion,
and the appearance of a column of fire, which, sweeping
along the field, rooted up every thing in its course. A
young man, who was unfortunate enough to be in the path
of the meteor, was whirled into the air, and fractured his
skull by falling on a rock. Fourteen sheep were also
snatched up, and fell suffocated. The column of air and
fire then proceeded to the castle of Laconette, threw down
the west wall of the park, made two excavations, removed
enormous rocks, rooted up the largest trees, and penetrated
into the castle in two places, where it committed the most
terrible devastation. After having thus ravaged a con-

206

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

siderable extent of country, it finally disappeared, leaving
the ground deeply furrowed, and the air strongly impreg-
nated with a sulphureous odour.

The same effect that is produced by two contending
currents of air takes place in another element, and gulfs or
whirlpools are no other than the eddies of the wa;er formed
by the action of two or more opposite currents. The
greatest known gulf is that of the Norway sea, called
Maalstroem, or Moskostroem, which is affirmed to be up-
wards of twenty leagues in circuit. It absorbs for six
hours all that is near it, water, ships, &c. and afterwards
returns them in the same space of time as it drew them in.
A Waterspout is no other than a whirlwind at sea.
The vacuum which is caused by the meeting currents
causes the water to rise up in the form of a cjlinder, or
rather of an inverted cone. In the travels of M. Thevenot
there is a very minute and circumstantial account of the
formation of a waterspout.

"The first," says this celebrated voyager, "which ap-
peared to me was on the northern coast, between us and
the island Quesomo, at a gun shot from the ship; the head
of the ship was then to the northeast: we directly per-
ceived water which boiled on the surface of the sea about a
foot high; it was whitish, and appeared above that height
like a thick smoke, so that it properly resembled some
burning straw, which only smoked; it made a noise like
that of a torrent which runs with much rapidity in a deep
valley: but this noise was mixed with a clearer, similar to
the strong hissing of serpents or vipers; a little while after-
wards we perceived something like a dark canal, which
bore a strong resemblance to a smoke which ascends to-
wards the clouds, turning round with great velocity: this
appeared about the thickness of my finger, and the same
noise still continued; the duration of this spout was no
longer than about half a quarter of an hour: this over, we
perceived another one the south side of us, which began in
the same manner as the preceding: and almost as soon, a
similar one made its appearance on the west side; and
directly after a third by the side of the second; the farthest
of the three might be about a musket shot distance from
us: they all three appeared like burning heaps of straw, a
foot and a half or two feet high. We afterwards saw as
many canals, which descended from the clouds on those
places where the water was raised up, and each of them
was as broad at the end fastened to the cloud, as the broad
end of a trumpet, and resembled the human breast or that
of an animal, drawn perpendicularly down by a heavy
weight; these canals appeared of a darkish white, and were
not straight, but crooked in some places; they even were
not perpendicular; but on the contrary, from the clouds
where they were joined to the parts which drew in the

water, they were very much bent; and what is more par-
ticular is, that having been driven by the wind, this canal
followed it without breaking or quitting the place where it
drew in the water, and passing behind the first canal, they
were sometimes crossed like a St. Andrew's Cross. At
the beginning they were all three about the thickness of
my finger, but afterwards the first of the three increased
considerably: but the last which was formed scarcely re-
mained longer than that which we saw on the nOrth side.
The second on the south side remained about a quarter of
an hour, but the first on that side remained a little longer,
and this it was which terrified us the most. At first its
canal was as thick as my ringer, afterwards as thick as my
arm, then as my leg, and at last as tiie trunk of a large tree,
which a man might compass with his arms. We distinctly
perceived water through this transparent body, which
ascended in a serpentine manner. Sometimes it diminish-
ed a little in size, sometimes at top and sometimes at bot-
tom; and then it resembled exactly a soft tube, with some
fluid matter pressed with the fingers, either upwards to
make this liquor descend, or at bottom, to cause it to ascend.
After this it diminished so much that it was thinner than
my arm; afterwards it returned as thick as my thigh, and
then again became very thin; at last, I saw that the water
elevated on the surface of the sea began to lower, and the
end of the canal which touched it divided and grew nar-
rower, when a variation of the light removed it from our
view." WrighVs Buffon.

RAIL.

R.1LLUS C^RO LINUS.

[Plate XVIIL]

Soree, Catesb. i. 70. — ^rct. Zool. p. 491, No. 409.—
Little Jlmtrican Water Hen, Edw. 144. — Le Rul de
Virginie, Burr. viii. 165. — Ralliis Carolinus, Lin.
Syst. p. 153, No. 5, ed. 10. — Gallinula Carolina,
Lath. Ind. Oni.p. 771, No. 17.— J. Doughty's Col-
lection.

Op all our land or water fowl, perhaps none afford the
sportsman more agreeable amusement, or a more delicious
repast, than the little bird now before us. This amusement
is indeed temporary, lasting only two or three hours in the
day, for four or five weeks in each year; but as it occurs in
the most agreeable and temperate of our seasons, is attend-
ed with little or no fatigue to the gunner, and is frequently
successful, it attracts numerous followers, and is pursued, in

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

such places as the birds frequent, with great eagerness and
enthusiasm.

The natural history of the Rail, or as it is called in Vir-
ginia, the Sora, and in South Carolina the Coot, is, to the
most of our sportsmen, involved in profound and inexpli-
cable mystery. It comes, they know not whence; and
goes, they know not whither. No one can detect their first
moment of arrival; yet all at once the reedy shores, and
grassy marshes, of our large rivers swarm with them, thou-
sands being sometimes found within the space of a few
acres. These, when they do venture on wing, seem to fly
so feebly, and in such short fluttering flights among the
reeds, as to render it highly improbable, to most people,
that they could possibly make their way over an extensive
tract of country. Yet, on the first smart frost that occurs,
the whole suddenly disappear, as if they had never been.

To account for these extraordinary phenomena, it has
been supposed, by some, that they bury themselves in the
mud; but as this is every year dug into by ditchers and
people employed in repairing the banks, without any of
those sleepers being found, where but a few weeks before
these birds were innumerable, this theory has been gene-
rally abandoned. And here their researches into this mys-
terious matter generally end in the common exclamation of
"What can become of them!" Some profound inquirers,
however, not discouraged v,-ith these difficulties, have pro-
secuted their researches with more success; and one of
those, living a few years ago near the mouth of James
river, in Virginia, where the Rail or Sora are extremely
numerous, has (as I was informed on the spot) lately disco-
vered, that they change \\\X.o frogs! having himself found
in his meadows an animal of an extraordinary kind, that
appeared to be neither a Sora nor a frog; but, as he ex-
pressed it, " something between the two." He carried it
to his negroes, and afterwards took it home, where it lived
three days, and in his own, and his negroes' opinion, it
looked like nothing in this world but a real Sora, changing
into a frog! What farther confirms this grand discovery, is
the well known circumstance of the frogs ceasing to hollow
as soon as the Sora comes in the Fall.

This sagacious discoverer, however, like many others re-
nowned in history, has found but a few supporters; and,
except his own negroes, has not, as far as I can learn, made
a single convert to his opinion. Matters being so circum-
stanced, and some explanation necessary, I shall endeavour
to throw a little more light on the subject, by a simple de-
tail of facts, leaving the reader to form his own theory as he
pleases.

The Rail or Sora belongs to a genus of birds of which
about thirty different species are enumerated by naturalists;
and these are distributed over almost every region of the

habitable parts of the earth. The general character of these
is every where the same. They run swiftly, fly slowly,
and usually with the legs hanging down; become extremely
fat; are fond of concealment, and, wherever it is practica-
ble, prefer running to flying. Most of them are migratory,
and abound during the summer in certain countries, the in-
habitants of which have very rarely an opportunity of see-
ing them. Of this last the Land Rail of Britain is a striking
example. This bird, which, during the summer months,
may be heard in almost every grass and clover field in the
kingdom, uttering its common note, crek, crck, from sunset
to a late hour in the night, is yet unknown, by sight, to
more than nine-tenths of the inhabitants. "Its well known
crj'," says Bewick, "is first heard as soon as the grass
becomes long enough to shelter it, and continues till the
grass is cut; but the bird is seldom seen, for it constantly
skulks among the thickest part of the herbage, and runs so
nimbly through it, winding and doubling in every direc-
tion, that it is difllcult to come near it; when hard pushed
by the dog, it sometimes stops short, and squats down, by
which means its too eager pursuer overshoots the spot, and
loses the trace. It seldom springs but when driven to extre-
mity, and generally flies with its legs hanging down, but
never to a great distance; as soon as it alights it runs off,
and before the fowler has reached the spot, the bird is at a
considerable distance." The Water Crake, or Spotted
Rail of the same country, which in its plumage approaches
nearer to our Rail, is another notable example of the same
general habit of the genus. "Its common abode," says
the same writer, "is in low swampy grounds, in which are
pools or streamlets overgrown with willows, reeds and
rushes, where it lurks and hides itself with great circum-
spection; it is wild, solitary, and shy, and will swim, dive
or skulk under any cover, and sometimes suffer itself to be
knocked on the head, rather than rise before the sportsman
and his dog." The Water Rail of the same country is
equally noted for the like habits. In short, the whole
genus possess this strong family character in a very remark-
able degree.

These three species are well known to migrate into Bri-
tain earljr in spring, and to leave it for the more southern
parts of Europe in autumn. Yet they are rarely or never
seen in their passage to or from the countries where they
are regularly found at different seasons of the year; and
this for the very same reasons, that they are so rarely seen
even in the places where they inhabit.

It is not, therefore, at all surprising, that the regular mi-
grations of the American Rail or Sora should, in like man-
ner, have escaped notice in a country like this, whose popu-
lation bears so small a proportion to its extent; and where
the study of natural history is so little attended to. But

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

that these migrations do actually take place, from north to
south, and vice versa, may be fairly inferred from the com-
mon practice of thousands of other species of birds less
solicitous of concealment, and also from the following
facts:

On the twenty-second day of February, I killed two of
these birds in the neighbourhood of Savannah, in Georgia,
where they have never been observed during the summer.
On the second of the May following, I shot another in a
watery thicket below Philadelphia, between the rivers
Schuylkill and Delaware, in what is usually called the
Neck. This last was a male, in full plumage. We are also
informed, that they arrive at Hudson's Bay early in June,
and again leave that settlement for the south early in au-
tumn. That many of them also remain here to breed is
proved by the testimony of persons of credit and intelli-
gence with whom I have conversed, both here and on
James river in Virginia, who have seen their nests, eggs
and young. In the extensive meadows that border the
Schuylkill and Delaware, it was formerly common, before
the country was so thickly settled there, to find young Rail
in the first mowing time, among the grass. ]Mr. James
Bartram, brother to the botanist, a venerable and active
man of eighty-three, and well acquainted with this bird,
says, that he has often seen and caught young Rail in his
own meadows in the month of June; he has also seen their
nest, which he says is usually in a tussock of grass, is formed
of a little dry grass, and has four or five eggs of a dirty
whitish colour, with brown or blackish spots; the young
run off as soon as they break the shell, are then quite black,
and run about among the grass like mice. The old ones he
has very rarely observed at that time, but the young often.
Almost every old settler along these meadows, with whom
I have conversed, has occasionally seen young Rail in mow-
ing time; and all agree in describing them as covered with
blackish down. There can, therefore, be no reasonable
doubt as to the residence of many of these birds both here
and to the northward during the summer. That there can
be as little doubt relative to their winter retreat, will appear
more particularly towards the sequel of the present account.
During their residence here, in summer, their manners
exactly correspond with those of the Water Crake of Bri-
tain already quoted; so that, though actually a different spe-
cies, their particular habits, common places of resort, and
eagerness for concealment, are as nearly the same as the
nature of the climates will admit.

Early in August, when the reeds along the shores of the
Delaware have attained their full growth, the Rail resort to
them in great numbers, to feed on the seeds of this plant,
of which they, as well as the Rice-birds, and several others,
are immoderately fond. These reeds, which appear to be

the Zizania panicula effusa ofLinnasus, and ihe Zizania
clavulosa of Wildenow, grow up from the soft muddy
shores of the tide water, which are alternately dry, and
covered with four or five feet of water. They rise with an
erect, tapering stem, to the height of eight or ten feet, being
nearly as thick below as a man's wrist, and cover tracts along
the river, of many acres. The cattle feed on their long green
leaves with avidity, and wade in after them, as far as they
dare safely venture. They grow up so close together that,
except at or near high water, a boat can with difficulty make
its way through among them. The seeds are produced at
the top of the plant, the blossoms or male parts occupying
the lower branches of the pannicle, and the seeds the higher.
These seeds are nearly as long as a common sized pin,
somewhat more slender, white, sweet to the taste, and very
nutritive, as appears by their effects on the various birds
that, at this season, feed on them.

When the reeds are in this state, and even while in
blossom, the Rail are found to have taken possession of
them in great numbers. These are generally nunr. rous in
proportion to the full and promising crop of the former.
As you walk along the embankment of the river, at this
season, you hear them squeaking in every direction, like
young puppies; if a stone be thrown among the reeds, there
is a general outer}-, and a reiterated kuk kiik kuk, some-
thing like that of a guinea-fowl. Any sudden noise, or the
discharge of a gun, produces the same effect. In the mean-
time, none are to be seen, unless it be at or near high-
water; for when the tide is low, they universally secrete
themselves among the interstices of the reeds, and you may
walk past, and even over them, where there are hundreds,
without seeing a single individual. On their first arrival
they are generally lean, and unfit for the table; but as the
reeds ripen, they rapidly fatten, and from the twentieth of
September to the middle of October, are excellent, and
eagerly sought after. The usual method of shooting them,
in this quarter of the country, is as follows: The sports-
man furnishes himself with a light batteau, and a stout ex-
perienced boatman, with a pole twelve or fifteen feet long,
thickened at the lower end, to prevent it from sinking too
deep into the mud. About two hours or so before high-
water, they enter the reeds, and each takes his post, the
sportsman standing in the bow ready for action, the boat-
man on the stern seat, pushing her steadily through the
reeds. The Rail generally spring singly, as the boat ad-
vances, and at a short distance a-head, are instantly shot
down, while the boatman, keeping his eye on the spot
where the bird fell, directs the boat forward, and picks it
up as the gunner is loading. It is also the boatman's busi-
ness to keep a sharp look-out, and give the word mark,
when a Rail springs on either side, without being observed

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

209

by the sportsman, and to note the exact spot where it falls,
until he has picked it up; for this once lost sight of, owing
to the sameness in the appearance of the reeds, is seldom
found again. In this manner the boat moves steadily
through, and over the reeds, the birds flushing and falling,
the gunner loading and firing, while the boatman is push-
ino- and picking up. The sport continues till an hour or
two after high-water, when the shallowness of the water,
and the strength and weight of the floating reeds, as also
the backwardness of the game to spring as the tide decreases,
obliges them to return. Several boats are sometimes within
a short distance of each other, and a perpetual cracking of
musquetry prevails along the whole reedy shores of the
river. In these excursions it is not uncommon for an active
and expert marksman to kill ten or twelve dozens in a tide.
They are usually shot singly, though I have known five
killed at one discharge of a double-barrelled piece. These
instances, however, are rare.

The flight of these birds among the reeds is usually low;
and, shelter being abundant, is rarely extended to more
than fifty or one hundred yards. When winged, and unin-
jured in their legs, they swim and dive with great rapidity,
and are seldom seen to rise again. I have several times, on
such occasions, discovered them clinging with their feet to
the reeds under the water, and at other times skulking under
the floating reeds, with their bill just above the surface.
Sometimes, when wounded, they dive, and rising under
the gunwale of the boat, secrete themselves there, moving
round as the boat moves, until they have an opportunity of
escaping unnoticed. They are feeble and delicate in every
thing but the legs, which seem to possess great vigour and
energy; and their bodies being so remarkably thin, or com-
pressed, as to be less than an inch and a quarter through
transversely, they are enabled to pass between the reeds
like rats. When seen, they are almost constantly jetting
up the tail. Yet, though their flight among the reeds seems
feeble and fluttering, every sportsman, who is acquainted
with them here, must have seen them occasionally rising
to a considerable height, stretching out their legs behind
them, and flying rapidly across the river, where it is more
than a mile in width.

Such is the mode of Rail-shooting in the neighbourhood
of Philadelphia. In Virginia, particularly along the shores
of James river, within the tide water, where the Rail, or
Sora, are in prodigious numbers, they are also shot on the
wing, but more usually taken at night in the following
manner: — A kind of iron grate is fixed on the top of a stout
pole, which is placed like a mast, in a light canoe, and
filled with fire. The darker the night, the more successful
is the sport. The person who manages the canoe is pro-
vided with a light paddle, ten or twelve feet in length; and
3 G

about an hour before high-water proceeds through among
the reeds, which lie broken and floating on the surface.
The whole space, for a considerable way round the canoe,
is completely enlightened; the birds stare with astonish-
ment, and as they appear, are knocked on the head with
the paddle, and thrown into the canoe. In this manner
from twenty to eighty dozens have been killed by three
negroes, in the short space of three hours.

At the same season, or a little earlier, they are very nu-
merous in the lagoons near Detroit, on our northern fron-
tiers, where another species of reeds (of which they are
equally fond) grows in shallows, in great abundance. Gen-
tlemen who have shot them there, and on whose judgment
I can rely, assure me, that they diflferin nothing from those
they have usually killed on the shores of the Delaware and
Schuylkill; they are equally fat, and exquisite eating. On
the sea coast of New Jersey, where these reeds are not to
be found, this bird is altogether unknown; though along
the marshes of Maurice river, and other tributarjr streams
of the Delaware, and wherever the reeds abound, the Rail
are sure to be found also. Most of them leave Pennsylva-
nia before the end of October, and the southern States earl}'
in November; though numbers linger in the warm southern
marshes the whole winter. A very worthy gentleman,
Mr. Harrison, who lives in Kittiwan, near a creek of that
name, on the borders of James river, informed me, that in
burning his meadows early in March, they generally raise
and destroy several of these birds. That the great body of
these Rail winter in countries beyond the United States, is
rendered highly probable from their being so frequently
met with at sea, between our shores and the West India
islands. A captain Douglass informed me, that on his voy-
age from St. Domingo to Philadelphia, and more than a
hundred miles from the capes of the Delaware, one night
the man at the helm was alarmed by a sudden crash on
deck, that broke the glass in the binnacle, and put out the
light. On examining into the cause, three Rail were found
on deck, two of which were killed on the spot, and the
other died soon after. The late bishop Madison, president
of William and Mary college, Virginia, assured me, that a
Mr. Skipwith, for some time our consul in Europe, in his
return to the United States, when upwards of three hun-
dred miles from the capes of the Chesapeake, several Rail
or Soras, I think five or six, came on board, and were
caught by the people. Mr. Skipwith being well acquainted
with the bird, assured him that they were the very same
with those usually killed on James river. I have received
like assurances from several other gentlemen, and captains
of vessels, who have met with these birds between the main
land and the islands, so as to leave no doubt on my mind of
the fact. For, why should it be considered incredible that

210

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

a bird which can both swim and dive well, and at pleasure
fly with great rapidity, as I have myself frequently wit-
nessed, should be incapable of migrating, like so many
others, over extensive tracts of land or sea? Inhabiting, as
they do, the remote regions of Hudson's Bay, where it is
impossible they could subsist during the rigors of their
winter, they must either emigrate thence or perish; and as
the same places in Pennsylvania, which abound with them
in October, are often laid under ice and snow during the
winter, it is as impossible that they could exist here in -that
inclement season; Heaven has therefore given them, in
common with many others, certain prescience of these cir-
cumstances; and judgment, as well as sti'englh of flight, suf-
ficient to seek more genial climates, abounding with their
suitable food.

The Rail is nine inches long, and fourteen inches in
extent; bill yellow, blackish towards the point; lores, front,
crown, chin, and stripe down the throat, black; line over
the eye, cheeks and breast, fine light ash; sides of the
crown, neck, and upper parts generally, olive brown,
streaked with black, and also with long lines of pure white,
the feathers being centred with black, on a brown olive
ground, and edged with white; these touches of wliite are
shorter near the shoulder of the wing, lengthening as they
descend ; wing plain olive brown ; tertials streaked with
black and long lines of white; tail pointed, dusky olive
brown, centered with black, the four middle feathers bor-
dered for half their length with lines of white; lower part
of the breast marked with semicircular lines of white, on a
light ash ground; belly white; sides under the wings deep
olive, barred with black, white and reddish buff; vent
brownish buff; legs, feet and naked part of the thighs, yel-
lowish green; exterior edge of the wing white; eyes red-
dish hazel.

The females and young of the first season, have the throat
white, tlie breast pale blown, and little or no black on the
head. The males may always be distinguished by their
ashy blue breasts, and black throats.

During the greater part of the months of September and
October, the market of Philadelphia is abundantly supplied
with Rail, which are sold from half a dollar to a dollar a
dozen. Soon after the twentieth of October, at which time
our first smart frosts generally take place, these birds move
off to the south. In Virginia they usually remain until the
first week in November.

Since the above was written, I have received from Mr.
George Ord, of Philadelphia, some curious particulars rela-
tive to this bird, which, as they are new, and come from a
gentleman of respectability, are worthy of being recorded,
and merit further investigation.

"My personal experience," says Mr. Ord, "has made

me acquainted with a fact in the history of the Rail, which
perhaps is not generally known; and I shall, as briefly as
possible, communicate it to you. Some time in the autumn
of the year 1S09, as I was walking in a yard, after a severe
shower of rain, I perceived the feet of a bird projecting
from a spout. I pulled it out, and discovered it to be a
Rail, very vigorous, and in perfect health. The bird was
placed in a small room, on a gin-case; and I was amusing
myself with it, when, in the act of pointing my finger at it,
it suddenly sprang forward, apparently much irritated, fell
to the floor, and stretching out its feet, and bending its
neck, until the head nearly touched the back, became to all
appearance lifeless. Thinking the fall had killed the bird,
I took it up, and began to lament my rashness in provoking
it. In a few minutes it again breathed; and it was some
time before it perfectly recovered from the fit, into which,
it now appeared evident, it had fallen. I placed the Rail
in a room, wherein Canary birds were confined; and re-
solved that, on the succeeding day, I would endeavour to
discover whether or not the passion of anger had produced
the fit. I entered the room at the appointed time, and
approached the bird, which had retired, on beholding me,
in a sullen humour, to a corner. On pointing my finger at
it, its feathers were immediately ruffled; and in an instant
it sprang forward, as in the first instance, and fell into a
similar fit. The following day the experiment was repeat-
ed, with the like effect. In the autumn of 181 1, as I was
shooting amongst the reeds, I perceived a Rail rise but a
few feet before my batteau. The bird had risen about a
yard when it became entangled in the tops of a small bunch
of reeds, and immediately fell. Its feet and neck were
extended, as in the instances above mentioned; and before
it had time to recover, I killed it. Some few days after-
wards, as a friend and I were shooting in the same place,
he killed a Rail, and, as we approached the spot to pick it
up, another was perceived, not a foot off, in a fit. I took
up the bird, and placed it in the crown of my hat. In a
few moments it revived, and was as vigorous as ever.
These facts go to prove, that the Rail is subject to gusts of
passion, which operate to so violent a degree as to produce
a disease, similar in its effects so epileps}'. I leave the ex-
plication of the phenomenon to those pathologists who are
competent and willing to investigate it. It may be worthy
of remark, that the birds affected as described, were all
females of the Ralius Carolinus, or Common Rail.

"The Rail, though generally reputed a simple bird, will
sometimes manifest symptoms of considerable intelligence.
To those acquainted with Rail shooting, it is hardly neces-
sary to mention, that the tide, in its flux, is considered an
almost indispensable auxiliary; for, when the water is off
the marsh, the lubricity of the mud, the height and com-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

211

pactness of the reed, and tlie swiftness of foot of the game,
tend to weary the sportsman, and tend to frustrate his en-
deavours. Even should he succeed in a tolerable degree,
the reward is not commensurate to the labour. I have
entered the marsh in a batteau, at a common tide, and in a
well known haunt have beheld but few birds. The next
better tide, on resorting to the same spot, I have perceived
abundance of game. The fact is, the Rail dive, and con-
ceal themselves beneath the fallen reed, merely projecting
their heads above the surface of the water for air, and re-
main in that situation until the sportsman has passed them;
and it is well known, that it is a common practice with
wounded Rail to dive to the bottom, and, holding upon
some vegetable substance, support themselves in that situa-
tion until exhausted. During such times, the bird, in

escaping from one enemj-, has often to encounter another
not less formidable. Eels and cat-fish swarm in every
direction, prowling for prey; and it is ten to one if a
wounded Rail escapes them. I myself have beheld a large
eel make off with a bird that I had shot, before I had time
to pick it up; and one of my boys, in bobbing for eels,
caught one with a whole Rail in its belly.

"I have heard it observed, that on the increase of the
moon, the Rail improves in fatness, and decreases in a con-
siderable degree with that planet. Sometimes I have con-
ceited that the remark was just. If it be a fact, I think
it may be explained on the supposition, that the bird is
enabled to feed at night, as well as by day, while it has the
benefit of the moon, and with less interruption than at other
periods."

UNITED BOWMEN OF PHILADELPHIA.

Long did he live the honour of the bow,
And his long life to that alone did owe.

Epitaph on the tomb of Sir William Wood.

Who has not heard of old Izaak Walton? far and near, our youlliful recollections ever to be effaced, while wc

to old and young his name is familiar; his admirable skill have limb or muscle to follow the mazes of the brook, or,

and instructions, so wittily told, in the quaint language of when they have fail'd, a tongue to tell of by gone pastimes,

the times in which he wrote, are too deeply impressed on Roger Ascham is not, I am sorry to say, so well known:

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

his, like Izaak's to the angler, is the text hook of the
Archer, and not less worthy of our grateful recollection.
To become a perfect Archer it is only necessary to read his
Toxophilus, and practice carefully his precepts. In the
course of that practice you will not fail to fall into some,
if not all, of those faults so " wittilye" described by him,
thus: " The discomodityes which ill custom hath graffed
in Archers, some shooteth his head foreward, as though he
would byte the marke; another stareth with his eyes, as
though they should flye out; another winketh with one
eye and looketh with the other; some maketh a face with
wrythinge their mouth; another byteth his lips, another
holdeth his neck awrye. In drawing, one will stand point-
ing his shafte at the mark a good while, and by and by he
will give him a whippe, and away or a man witte: another
draweth softly to the middle, and by and by it is gone, you
cannot know ho we: another draweth his shafte low at the
breast, as though he would shoot at a roving mark, and
by and by, he lifteth his arm to the height: one maketh a
wrynchinge in his back, as though a man pinched him be-
hind: another coureth down, and layeth out his rumpe, as
though he would shoot at crowes; some draw too farre,
some too shorte, some too quicklye, some too slowlye,
some hold over longe, some let go over soone; and after-
wards when the shafte is gone, men have many faultes,
which evil custome has brought them to, and specially e in
cryinge after the shafte, and speakinge wordes scarce
honest for such an honest pastime, and besydes those which
must needes have theyr tongue thus walkinge, other men
use other faultes. Some will give two or three strides for-
warde, daunsinge and hoppinge after his shafte, as long as
it flyeth as though he were a madde man, some which feare
to be too far gone, run backward, as it were to pull his
shafte backe, another forward when he feareth to be shorte
heavingc after his armes, as though he woulde helpe his
shafte to flye, another v^'rythes, or runneth asyde, to pull
in his shafte straighte, one lifteth up his heele, and so hold-
eth his foote still as long as his shafte flyeth. And many
other faultes there be, which now come not to my remem-
brance. Thus, as you have hearde, many Archers with
marringe theyr face and countenance, with other parts of
theyr bodye, as it were men that should daunce antiques,
be farre from the comely part in shootynge, which he that
woulde be excellent must looke for. Of these faultes, I
have very manye myselfe, but I talke not of my shoot-
ynge. Now ymagen an Archer that is cleane without all
these faultes, and I am sure every man would be delighted
to see him shoote."

I have ran on with this quotation longer than was my
intention, but it is too faithful a picture to be curtailed of
any of its fair proportions. My object is to give you a

sketch of the only association that we know of, on this side
of the big ivater, for the practice of this ancient and honour-
able pastime; the wood craft of the merry Archers, cele-
brated alike, in the ballad and romance.

Our association was commenced in the fall of 1S28, by a
few gentlemen, whose sole knowledge was the rccollectioa
of the hoop bow, and shingle arrows of boyhood, and the
clumsy feats of the half civilized Indians, who are occa-
sionally seen shooting for pennies on the pavements of our
cities, with miserable tools and worse skill. Our want of
knowledge led us into many errors, and gave us much
trouble; we blundered on taking hints from examinations
of the different instruments of warfare contained in the
cabinets of our museums, and from every source that could
furnish information. Our first practice meeting was ludic-
rous; let me describe it, if I can. At the head of the file to
which we were ranged, stood the long S!!§ with a bow about
IS inches long, from the N. W. coast of America, and a
Canton arrow three feet two inches long, with a whistling
head. Next to him, and scarcely reaching to his elbow,
was the neat, small figure of our worthy friend, the artist,
with a seven foot Malay bow, held in a horizontal position,
simply because he could not hold it in any other, while he
stood on the ground. Then came the 3 with an arrow,
long after known in the club as the broom stick, being
made of a defunct brush handle, shaved down a little. My
turn comes next, a real Sandwich Islander, the crack bow
of the club at that time, which I managed most grotesquely,
holding it at an angle of forty-five degrees to the horizon.
The arrow was all the way from the Missouri, and now
reposes ingloriously in the top of a button wood, where it
went of its own accord; I give you my word that I aimed
it at a pasteboard target, some sixty feet ofi", on the same
level as ourselves. With such an equipment, and there is
not much exaggeration in the description, it is very remark-
able that we should have persevered, but the zeal of the
members, finally conquered every difficulty. You must
not suppose, for a moment, that we continued these puerile
proceedings, any longer than we could help ; at a very
early period of the association, an order had been despatch-
ed to Mr. Thomas Waring, of London, the most celebrated
modern Bowyer, for an equipment of the best quality, and
full information on the subject, all of which was received
in due time; and consisted of a lemon wood bow, and spare
strings, a dozen arrows contained in a quiver, a belt, pouch,
grease box, and tassel, a splendid pair of targets, and finally,
Waring's " Treatise on Archery," accompanied by a. bill
as long as a woodcock's, of heavy charges, no inconside-
rable item of which was Uncle Sam's thirty-three and a
third per cent, duties. These articles were received on the
28th of March, 1829, from which time may be dated the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

213

efficient existence of our club: and we have gone on re-
gularly increasing in skill until the present time.

The United Bowmen, associated for the practice of
Archer}', was instituted on the 23d of September, 1828,
and consists of members proper, honorary, and associate.
The first are those who practice; the second those who re-
side at a distance, but take interest in the subject; and the
last those who may have been members of the club; govern-
ed by a constitution, administered by a President, Secre-
tary, and Treasurer. The initiation fee is five dollars, and
a monthly contribution of fifty cents is required of each
member, and defrays the expense of prizes, and the neces-
sary fixtures. The organization of the Society is nearly
similar to that of all others; it is not, therefore, proper to
occupy your useful space with details that are not peculiarly
applicable to our subject.

By the regulations, practice meetings are held weekly,
at such time, place, and distance, as may be specified at the
stated monthly meetings of the club.

The members serve in rotation as Captain of the Target
at each meeting of practice; their duties are to decide on all
hits, and to register the same, &c. : it is not necessary to
give you a detail, for with all forethought, something would
be left out, and for contingencies, there can be provision;
let it sufiSce, that his authority is absolute; from his decision
there is no appeal.

The targets consist of five concentric circles, the inner
one eight inches in diameter, is gilded; the second eight
inches larger in diameter, and painted red; the third in-
creased eight inches, and painted white; the fourth in-
creased eight inches, and painted black; and the fifth eight
inches larger than the last, and painted light blue.

The value of the hits in the different colours is as fol-
lows: gold, nine; red, seven; white, five; black, three;
and light blue, one.

On the second Wednesday of September of each year,
two prizes are shot for; the first and most valuable is
awarded to the Archer whose hits value highest, according
to the foregoing arrangement; the secondary to him who
places an arrow nearest to the centre, with this proviso,
that he who gains the first, cannot take the second. The
first, it is evident, will become the property of the best
Archer of the day ; the secondary may, of course, fall to
the share of some lucky wight, whose an-ow may be wafted
out of its legitimate direction by some passing breeze, or,
as has been the case, may have struck the limb of an apple
tree, some fifteen feet out of the direction of the target, and
be carried by the glance direct to the centre of the gold.
As this prize cannot be taken by the best Archer, ten to
one it becomes the property of the worst. This is given
as a "big word" of encouragement to beginners.
3 H

The captain of the target carries a card with ruled lines,
the heads of the columns of which correspond with the
colours of the concentric circles, and the marginal column
for the names or signs of the members; the hits are pierced
in their proper places in these cards by a pin, the number
and value are summed up at the close of the shooting, and
from the card are transferred to the record book of the
club by the secretary. This book consists of engraved
pages of the circles of the target, and the signs of the mem-
bers; their presence is marked on the record of the appro-
priate date, each members' hits on the proper circle, their
number of hits and their value, the captain of the target for
that day, and, finally, remarks on the weather, &c.

It is the duty of the secretary to keep a record of articles
that appear in the public prints, magazines, &c. on Arche-
ry; he has in charge, a collection of prints on this subject,
the bows and arrows of the different nations of the world.
To this portion of the property of the club, we have no
delicacy in asking donations, as we need not hesitate to
avow our conviction, that articles of this kind, have much
more interest collectively, and as the property of an asso-
ciation, than they can possibly have while detached, or
hidden in the garrets of individuals, to which place they
are usually consigned, after the first keen edge of curiosity
is worn off.

To each member of the association is assigned a mark as
his descriptive badge, as follows:

It is placed on his bow and arrows, and usually on all the
articles of his equipment; it designates his hits on the card,
and in the record book, and is used whenever individuality
is to be expressed; its object is convenience in saving the
necessity of writing names, and the uncertainty of initials.

For the sake, also, of easy distinction, especially in the
case of arrows, it is usual for every member to select a
colour, and to adhere to its use in painting his arrows or
other articles; one individual has selected red, another
blue, a third green, a fourth yellow, and so on.

No uniform has been adopted by the club, nor is it essen-
tial; for the sake of convenience, a light jacket is worn,
which, for the same reason, with the addition of neatness,
has been made of a uniform colour and fashion.

The object of this club being expressly that of healthful
exercise and manly recreation alone, one of its understood,
though most decided regulations is, that nothing but water
can be drank at its meetings, and that nothing foreign to
the practice of Archery can be recognised, as an object of
their association.

It is no part of my intention to give instructions in
Archery; the space that could be allowed in a work like

214

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

the Cabinet, would be entirely insufficient, neither would it
be desirable, as the club have already, under the direction
of a committee appointed for the purpose, drawn up full
directions on the subject, which are published in a neat
volume, called the Archer's Manual, by Mr. R. H.Hobson,
of this city, a work amply sufficient to direct the necessary
practice of an Archer, to the highest grade of skill. For
amusement and further instruction in this pleasing act, I
beg leave to refer the aspirant to " Ascham's Toxophilus,"
a copy of which, if I am not mistaken, is in the Philadel-
phia Library.

The prize of 1S2S, a silver arrow, was taken by J^;
the secondary prize of that year, a broach set with tour-
quoise, by J .

That of 1829, a silver goblet became the property of
^ : the secondary prize of this year, six English arrows,
the property of ^ . For the last years' prize, a silver
bugle, ^ was again the successful competitor, and 3
took the secondary, a silver grease box.

The prizes for this year are, for the first, a badge of sil-
ver, with appropriate Archery devices; and for the secon-
dary, a clasp for the belt, also with appropriate devices,
the designs for which are from the pencil of our worthy
associate Q) , distinguished alike for his taste and talent as
an artist, and the vigour of his arm as an accomplished
bowman.

The contest for these prizes will, I have no doubt, be
ably and zealously contested, and will affiard much interest
to the parties and their friends.

For the information of those who may wish to be fur-
nished with bows and arrows, I beg leave to state, that
Mr. William Bent, under the patronage of the club, has
become a proficient in the manufacture of these articles;
his shop is in Library-street, near to Fifth.

If the subject is deemed of sufficient interest, I purpose
to give you, in a future number, an account of our next
prize shooting, which takes place in September.

Yours, truly, /^

ON THE VICIOUS HABITS AND PROPENSITIES OF HORSES.
By Thomas R. Yare.

(From the London Sporting Magazine,)

CRIB-BITING.

BuFPON says, "horses in their natural state are by no
means ferocious; they are only wild and fiery;" and it may
be added with equal truth, that they are not naturally
vicious: for their ill tempers, as well as manners, originate
entirely from defective education and rough handling.

Harsh usage and punishment are of no avail as correc-
tives; for under cruel discipline the horse becomes more
obstinate, morose, and irritable, and is very soon rendered
dangerous of approach. If, on the contrary, you use him
kindly, and he finds that, instead of a tynmt, he has a
friend about him, he will be under your hands as tractable
as a lamb: in fact, so subservient that you may do any
thing with him — for it is well known to those acquainted
with the nature of the horse, that no animal is more suscep-
tible of soothing, nor more docile and grateful for gentle
usage, as he invariably evinces cheerfulness on the approach
of the person from whom he receives kind treatment.

An occupation for which I have always felt a peculiar
partiality, has been the study of the temper and disposition
of the horse, and from the observations I have in conse-
quence made, am convinced, that a multiplicity of errors
are committed from ignorance of his true character in the
rearing and tuition of that noble animal, which afterwards
fall heavily and very unjustly on him.

Many horses have been entrusted to my care for correc-
tion, under the supposition that they were bad tempered or
viciously disposed, which, in other hands, would, without
doubt, have been acted upon accordingly — i. e. rendered
more faulty by harsh proceedings. On acquaintance with
them, I have generally found the poor animals to be only
nervous and irritable from ill treatment, rather than vicious
by nature; in short, "more sinned against than sinning:"
for no sooner had I gained their confidence, than the tre-
mulous awe and timidity they evinced on being approach-
ed, totally disappeared; and after a short trial, I have re-
turned them to their owners divested of the alleged com-
plaints, with this simple injunction, or something tanta-
mount to it, "Use them kindly: for vicious conduct makes
vicious horses;" at the same time urging them to bear in
mind, " that the horse is naturally of a gentle disposition,
and much disposed to associate with man."

This may be exemplified by any gentleman recollecting
the pleasure a horse seems to feel when noticed and caress-
ed by himself; yet, on scrutiny, the same demonstrations
of joy will not lake place on the approach of the attendant.
Education generally imparts humanity and feeling to its
possessor; and a gentleman enjoying these qualities more
eminently than his domestics, the animal's discrimination
causes him to recognise a difference in the behaviour of
each towards him.

Grooms are too prone to be harsh and hasty towards the
horse ; whereas, if they would only study to make a
a pleasure of their duty, they would considerably abbre-
viate the routine of their labour. In consequence of erro-
neous conduct, horses will occasionallj^ acquire a character
for viciousness amongst stable men, which cannot be sub-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

215

stantiated on reasonable grounds, the presence of the owner
being frequently a complete refutation to the assertion.

Horses usually evince attachment towards those who use
them kindly. His late Majesty, Geo. HI. had a favourite
charger named Adonis. Whenever the King, on visiting
his stables, chanced to pass near enough for Adonis to hear
his voice, the animal would commence whinnying with joy,
and his recognition of his master was always accompanied
with so much noise, that, to quiet him. His Majesty would
invariably command him to be saddled and led forth.
Having rode him for a few minutes round the premises,
the gratified animal would then return peaceably to his
quarters; but had the King not humoured his wish, the
animal would have become uproarious. Napoleon was
very fond of horses. Count Las Casas relates an anecdote
of a horse belonging to the Emperor that always showed a
considerable degree of pride and pleasure when carrying
him, which was never observed when a groom or any ordi-
nary person rode him.

Till within a very short period, I was not aware any per-
son had publicly treated on the subject of humanity to
horses with the same views entertained by myself; but I
perceive with pleasure, in a review of a work printed on
the Continent, that the author justifies my opinion, and cor-
roborates the truth of my remarks. One extract I have
preserved, which I cannot do better than quote.

" It is justly asserted, in the best works of rural economy
and the veterinary art, that no horses are naturally vicious.
When they become vicious, the reason is, because we pay
too little attention to the horse, and do not study his nature
sufficiently; and hence rather resort to the whip and spur,
to signify our wishes to this noble animal, than to kind and
gentle treatment. In a word, we know not bow to make
ourselves intelligible to the horse. It seems truly astonish-
ing, that horses in general are not more obstinate; and that,
in the consciousness of their strength, they do not strive
more to rid themselves of their slavery, when we consider
how severely, cruelly, and barbarously, these generous
beasts are treated. How often are they beaten and ill-
used, freqviently without any cause! and how seldom, on
the other hand, are they addressed in terms of commenda-
tion and encouragement, and still less rewarded! and yet
attentive observers have ascertained, that the horse, like the
elephant and dog, possesses a sensibility of the nerves which
might be termed a sense of honour, and which is equally
susceptible of praise and blame."

Crib-biting is often produced by injudicious cleaning. It
is a common practice in racing and hunting establishments
to dress horses with an ash stick in hand, which is held at
them in lerrorem whilst undergoing that process, and occa-
sionally applied to their bodies with rigour. This practice

is not only foolish, but betrays a want of judgment which
nothing can extenuate; for the unruly conduct of the ani-
mal is mainly attributable to mismanagement and ignorance
on the part of the attendants themselves, who very unjustly
make the horse pay the penalty of their own awkwardness,
as I can easily show. Grooms and stablemen often disre-
gard the irritation they cause to horses in passing too
roughly with comb, brush, or whisp, over the belly, flank,
and under the web of the arm, which on those tender parts
produces extreme titillation. The animal, unable quietly
to endure this, oftentimes prolonged excitement, in the
agony of his suffering, naturally enough resists, and evinces
his displeasure of the treatment by reiterated attempts to
kick and bite the party inflicting the torture, as well as laying
hold of the manger with his teeth, which in many instances
is undoubtedly the forerunner of crib-biting. On these
occasions, the ash stick is brought into unmerciful requisi-
tion, thereby spoiling the temper of many of our best and
finest horses, who, compelled diurnally to undergo this
teazing ordeal, generally become s|)iteful and ill-natured,
and, in addition to other vicious propensities, imbibe a mis-
chievous habit of kicking on the approach of any person
towards them. Now, if the groom would only reflect for
a moment, he would be immediately convinced that his own
improper conduct was the cause of the trouble experienced,
and that his irrational proceeding must ultimately ruin the
most docile and quiet horse; but the despotic character of
man misleads him to imagine, that the brute animals must
implicitl}' obey and acknowledge his supremacy as a law of
nature, and submit to his will subserviently, even though
intimated to them in a somewhat ambiguous manner. I
cannot, with propriety, be contradicted, when I state, that
so long as this baneful system of stable-management and
discipline be allowed to be pursued with impunity by ser-
vants, gentlemen may always make sure of possessing crib-
biters and vicious horses.

The precaution which I invariably observe is, never to
dress, buckle or unbuckle girth or roller, witii the head to
the manger, or, if in the open air, within reach of any
thing the horse can snap at or lay hold of; uniformly taking
care that he be soothed and kindly used when undergoing
the operation of cleaning; and, should resistance be opposed
when passing even as lightly as possible over the parts
above mentioned, I never allow any violence to be enforced.
By this usage, the animal is not only less troublesome to
the attendant, but the kindness of his disposition is pre-
served unbroken.

Vicious habits may likewise be ascribed to imperfect
training. For instance: a horse is entrusted for that pur-
pose to the care of a person totally unacquainted with the
manner of treating him, consequently incapable of judging

216

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

whether the horse be qualified by nature to fulfil the inten-
tions of the owner. The age and strength of the animal
have not been taken into consideration; and his incapacity
to undergo the fatigue allotted to him, although proceeding
from weakness, has very incorrectly been ascribed to stub-
bornness and obstinacy. Resistance, as may be expected,
has been the natural consequence; harsher usage has follow-
ed; the temper of the animal has become soured; and he
has really imbibed a vicious character, which, at the onset,
was only imaginary. The result has been open warfare be-
tween him and his rider; in which the latter seldom gained
an ascendancy; and the former has never been duly trained
for the purpose for which he was destined; indeed, he has
frequently been rendered quite unserviceable, and become
afterwards a drug in the market, though nature had intended
him to be useful in many capacities, which, under judicious
management, would doubtless have been realised.

Tlie nature of instruction requires that he who teaches
should be intelligent, and know how to make himself un-
derstood by his pupils, otherwise little good can be attained.
This is more essentially requisite in the rearing and tuition
of an irrational animal. When the teacher knows but little
himself, or has not the talent of imparting knowledge to his
scholars, the design of education is not fulfilled, and coer-
cive measures only aggravate the evil. A parity of reason-
ing will hold good with horses.

For a long series of years I have been in the habit of
making observations on the errors committed in the usual
treatment and training of horses; and I am convinced, from
experience deduced by long study of the nature of horses,
and continual intercourse with them, that mild discipline is
the shie qua non of stable-management, and it is the inte-
rest of every proprietor to see it enforced. Patience and
good temper are cardinal requisites in a groom. Horses
have very retentive memories, and seldom forget the unruly
tricks or habits acquired from improper and hasty hand-
ling.

I have just observed that crib-biting is oftentimes caused
by improper dressing. It also very generally dates its ori-
gin, according to the observations I have personally made,
to want of employment, as well as to imitation.

Bad habits usually result from idleness. If we are inve-
terate smokers or snuff-takers, let us ask ourselves the rea-
son of our indulgence in these propensities? For the mo-
ment, probably, we cannot account for them; but, after a
little reflection, are free to admit, that imitation and too
much leisure are the causes; and custom has tended to root
us so firmly to these habits, that to be debarred their indul-
gence, would to many persons be downright misery. As
with man, so it is with the horse.

A crib-biter, or wind-sucker, should never be turned out

to grass promiscuously with other horses, for he most
assuredly will get at the land marks and gates; and, whilst
indulging in his propensity, will naturally attract the notice
of his companions. Imitation, as I said before, is one of
the leading inducements to this destructive habit. I was
once an eye-witness to the fact of a horse, when in the
field, drawing the attention of four others from amongst the
number grazing, to his actions. They alternately began,
first to smell, and then to nibble at the place moistened by
the saliva of their comrade, and, as I prognosticated at the
time, became afterwards confirmed crib-biters.

A horse, from want of exercise, will often take to crib-
bing from sheer idleness, or too much confinement in the
stable; and the abominable practice of tying the head to the
rack, produces, particularly in young high-couraged horses,
an impatient restlessness. Some show their dislike of the
restraint by continual kicking with one or other of the hind
legs; others, by licking and nibbling the rack or manger,
till they imbibe a professed attachment to the vice, more
especially if, in the adjacent stall, they have a companion
addicted to crib-biting, and themselves a nice soft deal
manger, inviting them to enter upon their noviciate.

Confinement in the stable for too long a period, has a
similar effect on the horse, as too great an indulgence of
bed has on the human frame — it produces general debility
and weakness. My advice is, when the horse be not wanted
for service, to give him walking exercise in the open air,
three or four hours a day, allowing him plenty to eat and
drink; and if this do not keep him hale and fit for use, why,
get^ rid of him, as, to borrow a stable phrase, " he must be
rotten." When the weather will not permit of exercise in
the dry, put on a soft bit with players, for two hours in the
morning, and two hours in the afternoon; by an adherence
to which rule digestion is promoted, the loss of exercise
compensated, and, by the amusement the horse finds in the
bit, he is not only kept out of mischief, but the carriage of
the head is greatly facilitated. Exercise improves the
appetite and strengthens the powers of digestion in a sur-
prising manner; hunger becomes keen; and food is taken
with eager relish, which is well known to be one of the
best signs of health.

[Tot

QUADRUPEDS.

Op the two hundred species of Quadrupeds which Buffon
supposes to exist, he calculates, that about ninety are origi-
nal inhabitants of the Old Continent, and about seventy of
the New, and that forty may be accounted common to both.
Since the period when he wrote, the number of species has
been much increased.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS,
AMERICAN VARYING HARE.

Sir

L EP US VIRGINMNUS. —Harlan.

Varying Hare, Pennant Quad. Warden Descrip. U. S.
V. p. 635. Lewis & Clarke, 2. p. 178. Lepits Vir-
ginianiis, Harlan. Faun. am. 196,300. Prairie Hare,
Richardson, Faun. am. bor. — Philadelphia Museum.

Few of the genera of quadrupeds present more obstacles
to the naturalist, than that of Lepus; among the species of
which there are so many points of similarity and almost
identity, that it is a task of no slight difficulty to distinguish
whether the differential characters which have been assigned
to them, are really specific, or only arise from the modify-
ing influence of climate and habitat. But although the seve-
ral species of this genus are so analogous as to constitute
one of the most natural groups of the mammalia, they are
spread over a wide extent of the globe, exhibiting, how-
ever, in every country, the same characteristics. When we
consider the great and almost incredible changes that are
wrought in the external configuration and habits of animals
by change of residence, and the effects of domestication,
it must be evident that it is often impossible to determine
whether the apparent differences between animals arise from
their descent from various parent stocks, or have been pro-
duced by the gradual operation of extrinsic causes. Thus,
when the natural history of any one of our domestic ani-
mals, as the sheep for example, is sufficiently known; when
we find, on its transportation from one climate to another,
that changes are produced, apparently amounting to specific
differences, it becomes exceedingly difficult to assign any
limits to this operation of nature, and to decide, in an ab-
solute manner, between the analogy and affinity of animals.
These observations apply with great force to the genus un-
der consideration, from the striking similarity that exists
between the species composing it, species, however, it
should be recollected, sanctioned by the highest names in
zoology.

As the resemblance of the various species to the common
type is almost as strong in their habits and manners as in
external characters, what we shall notice in speaking of the
genus is applicable, in a great measure, to the individual
which now engages our attention.

The Hares belong to the great order of Rodentia or Gnaw-
ers; they are distinguished by the number and singular ar-
rangement of their upper incisor teeth, the structure of
their head, and many other organic peculiarities. The head
is narrow and compressed, with a rather acute snout; the
eyes large, prominent, and placed laterally; the ears are
long, and placed close to each other. The upper lip is cleft,
31

and the inside of the cheeks covered with hair; in each
groin there is a fold of skin, that forms a kind of pouch.
The fore legs are short, and have five toes, covered with a
soft velvety hair; the hinder legs are very long, and have
only four toes, the soles of which are furnished with hair,
analogous to the anterior feet. There are twenty-eight
teeth — incisors i, molar I|. The upper incisors are dou-
ble, that is, there are two rows, one behind the other, the
posterior of which is the smaller; and at one moment, when
they are changing their teeth, they appear to have three
rows or six upper incisors.

There is one very remarkable anatomical peculiarity in
this genus; the females are furnished with a double matrix,
so that two contemporaneous fecundations can go on together;
this peculiarity of form also accounts for these animals being
so extremely prolific. They are capable of reproduction at
a very early age, and produce young every thirty days,
having from two to five at a birth.

According to the Mosaic ordinances, these animals are
placed among the ruminants. This arose, perhaps, from the
stomach appearing double, owingto a peculiarfold in it; added
to which, the coecum is so large that, in the infancy of ana-
tomical knowledge, it might readily have been mistaken for
a second stomach; the Hare genus have also the habit of
keeping their under lip in constant motion, giving the sem-
blance of rumination. But, although forbidden to be eaten
by the Jews, and even by the ancient Britons, the flesh
of the Hare appears to have been held in great esteem by
the epicures of Rome; thus, Martial says, ''Inter quadru-
pedes gloria prima Lepus," and Horace, who is no slight
authority as regards the pleasures of the table, gives it as
his opinion, that every man of taste must prefer the fore leg:
" Fecunditur Leporis sapiens sectabilur armos."

The eye of the Hare has no accessory organ, and the pu-
pil is elongated horizontally; their nostrils are nearly circu-
lar, and almost hidden in a fold, so that they can be closed.
The ears of all the species are very large, and are also capa-
ble of being closed at the will of the animal. The voice of
these animals is seldom or never heard, except when they are
irritated or wounded, when they utter a loud piercing cry,
bearing some resemblance to that of a child in pain. Al-
though exceedingly timid and watchful, the Hare is capable
of being domesticated, and even taught a variety of tricks.
One was exhibited in London, some time since, which could
play on the tambourine, discharge a pistol, and perform a
variety of other feats of as strange a character for an animal
of so fearful a disposition.

From the great length of the hinder legs, the gait of the
Hare is a succession of leaps, or an interrupted gallop; like
all animals of this conformation they sit on the tarsi of the
hinder feet, and use the anterior extremities to convey food

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

to the mouth, to cleanse their fur, &c. They drink by lap-
ping. This length of the hinder limbs also enables them to
ascend declivities with great speed. They feed on vegeta-
bles, and are very destructive to bark of young trees.

One of the most remarkable peculiarities of this genus is
the difference of habits between some of the species, closely
allied as they are in their ph3'sical appearance. Thus, the
Rabbit and the Hare, although furnished with analogous or-
gans, and inhabiting in many instances the same countries,
manifest the greatest aversion for each other, a hatred which
M. F. Cuvier asserts nothing can obliterate, for, however
nearly they are assimilated in form or character, they never
associate; and, when they meet, a combat generally ensues,
which often terminates fatally to one of the parties.

One striking point of dissimilarity between the Hare and
Rabbit is, that whilst the Hare merely forms a shallow hol-
low in the earth for her form or nest, the Rabbit excavates
deep and tortuous burrows. These subterranean habitations
have several entrances, and are inhabited by many indivi-
duals, though all of the same family. It has been stated by
those conversant with the subject, that these burrows descend
from generation to generation. This respect for succession
of property, although asserted for ages, has never been dis-
proved by modern zoologists, strange and almost incredible
as it appears to be. La Fontaine has alluded to it in one of
his fables:

" Jean Lapin allcgua la coutume et I'usage,
Ce sont leurs lois, dit il, qui m'ont de ce logis
Rendu maitre et seigneur, et qui, de pere en fils
L 'ait de Pierre & Simon, puis a moi Jean transmis.

The Rabbit is thought to have been originally a native of
Spain, but has been common in the rest of Europe for ages.
By domestication the colours of this species, as of all others
which have been reclaimed by man, are very various, some
individuals being black, others lead coloured, &c. one vari-
ety, called Angora Rabbits, is furnished with long silky
hair.

All the species of the genus Lepus hitherto discovered
in North America, have the habits of the Hare, though they
are generally called Rabbits. We will at present confine
our observations to the subject of our illustration, which
has given rise to some diversity of opinion among natural-
ists, though it has long been known to hunters and fur traders
as different from the common species. As was the case
with almost all the American animals resembling those of
the old continent, early naturalists considered it as identical
with the analogous European species. The first description
given of it in any detail is by Hearne. "The varying
hares are numerous, and extend as far as latitude 72° N. and
probably farther. They delight most in rocky and stony

places, near the borders of woods, though many of them
brave the coldest winters on entirely barren ground. In
summer they are nearly of the colour of our English wild
rabbit, bjt in winter assume a most delicate white all over,
except the tips of the ears, which are black. They are,
when full grown, and in good condition, very large, many
of them weighing fourteen or fifteen pounds."*

This account agrees very well with that of Lewis and
Clarke; these authors state: " The Hare on the western side
of the Rocky Mountains inhabits the great plains of the
Columbia. On the eastward of those mountains they inha-
bit the plains of the Missouri. They weigh from seven to
eleven pounds; the eye is large and prominent, the pupil of
a deep sea green, occupying one-third of the diameter of
the eye; the iris is of a bright yellow and silver colour; the
ears are placed far back and near each other, which the ani-
mal can, with surprising ease and quickness, dilate and
throw forward, or contract and hold upon his back at plea-
sure; the head, neck, and back, shoulders and outer parts of
the legs and thighs, are of a lead colour; the sides, as they
approach the belly, become gradually more white; the bel-
ly, breast, and inner parts of the legs and thighs are white,
with a light shade of lead colour; the tail is round and bluntly
pointed, covered with white soft fur. The colours here de-
scribed are those which the animal assumes from the mid-
dle of April to the middle of November, the rest of the
year he is of a pure white, except the black and reddish
brown of the ears, which never changes. A few reddish
brown spots are sometimes mixed with the white at this
season, (the winter,) on their heads and upper parts of their
necks and shoulders; the body of the animal is smaller and
longer, in proportion to its height, than the rabbit; when he
runs he conveys his tail straight behind, in the direction of
his body."t

The next person who mentioned this animal is Warden;
he observes, " the varying Hare, of the southern parts of
the United States, is distinguished from the American Rab-
bit, by changing from a gray brown, which is its colour in
spring and summer, to a full white in winter. Its ears are
also shorter and marked with black, and its legs more slen-
der. The largest varying Hares are about eighteen inches
long, and weigh from seven to eight pounds. ''J

Notwithstanding these notices, the American Varying
Hare remained undistinguished by naturalists; or, at most,
was considered as a mere variety, until the publication of the
Fauna Americana, by Dr. Harlan, when he designated it as
a new species under the name of ^'virginianiis," giving
the following as its essential characters: " Grayish brown

* Journey to the Northern Ocean, by Samuel Hearne, in the years 1769-72.
t Travels to the Pacific Ocean in 1804-6, by Captains Lewis and Clarke.
X Account of the United States, by D. B. Warden.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

219

in summer, white in winter; the orbits of the eyes sur-
rounded by a reddish fawn colour at all times; ears and head
of nearly equal length; tail very short.""

Dr. Godman, however, doubts the propriety of erecting
this into a new species, on the ground of the differential
characters adduced not being sufficient. " When," says he,
" we compare this animal with the polar hare, L. glacialis
Sabine, and with the L. variabilis, or Alpine hare, we shall
be convinced that distinctive characters have not 3'et been
given to establish the supposed new species, as well as that
such distinctive characters are very few and difficult of dis-
covery." We fully agree with this author as to the want
of character in the specific description, and that taking this
alone, there would not, perhaps, be any just grounds for ele-
vating it into a new species. But, at the same time, as we
have before observed, the species of the genus Lepus resem-
ble each other so closely, that it is almost impossible to de-
termine what should be assumed as differential characters.
The author of the Fauna Americana, it should be stated, has
the strong support of Dr. Richardson, in corroboration of the
validity of his species. This author makes an observation in
his account of it, however, which may lead to error — that the
identity of the specimen described bj' Dr. Godman, with
the L. virginianus of Dr. Harlan, has not been ascertained ;
now, if we mistake not, both these authors drew up their
accounts from the same specimens; thus, the former says,
" Through the kindness of that zealous friend of science,
Charles L. Buonaparte, we have had an opportunity of exa-
mining and preparing a description of a hare, from specimens
in winter and summer pelage, belonging to his valuable col-
lection;" and the latter observes, " The above description
is taken principally from a prepared specimen in the posses-
sion of JNIr. C. Buonaparte."

Before attempting to compare this animal with the other
American species, we will give a description of the speci-
men from which our illustration was drawn. This indivi-
dual was obtained by Mr. Titian R. Peale, in the State of
Maine, late in the autumn; it is evident that the change in
the colour of the hair has not taken place, and hence no
character can be drawn from this, as it presents a mixture
of both coats.

Size — larger than the common American Hare. Fur —
forehead, cheeks, and back reddish brown, darker on the
posterior parts of the body. These hairs are coloured as
follows — plumbeous at base, then light yellow, then dusky,
then reddish brown, and, finally, blackish at tip. Under
jaw white, and this colour extends backwards as far as the
bases of the ears. Belly and legs whitish, here and there
tinged with light reddish brown; some irregular white spots

• Fauna Americana, &c. by R. Harlan, M. D.

on the back. Tail white beneath, light lead colour above.
Ears whitish, tinged with reddish brown internally; whitish
with a darker reddish brown border on their anterior mar-
gin externally, tip brownish black. Orbits of the eye sur-
rounded with a reddish brown. Whiskers, some of the
hairs entirely white, others wholly black, and some black
at base and white at tip. Feet, covered with a thick brush,
which is of a soiled yellowish white, intermixed on top with
reddish brown; fore toes short, claws white, long, not much
curved, and resembling those of the common American
Hare; hinder toes large, spreading. Our description being
taken from a stuffed specimen, we are unable to give cor-
rect measurements, or to say any thing about the weight,
these, however, are very fallacious guides, as all the authors
we have quoted give great latitude in this respect. The
ears, also, are so much contracted by drying as to be much
sliorter than the head.

That this species may be compared with the Polar Hare,
(L. glacialis, J we subjoin a description of the latter as given
by Sabine. " The Polar Hare is larger than the variabilis.
Its colour, in winter dress, is white, having the ears black
at tip, and longer than the head. The nails are strong,
broad, and depressed. The ears are longer in proportion to
the head, than those of the common Hare, (L. timidiis,; and
much longer than those of the Alpine Hare, (L. variabi-
lis.) The fore teeth are curves of a much larger circle, and
the orbits of the eye project much more than those of either
of the other species; the claws are broad, depressed, and
strong, those of the L. timidus and L. variabilis, on the
contrary, are weak and compressed."

Thus it will be seen that the species under consideration
differs from the glacialis: in the length of its ears, in the
form and strength of its nails, and in the reddish brown
margin of the ears, which are never found in the Polar Hare
in its winter dress. As respects the fawn coloured ring sur-
rounding the orbits of the eyes, we are unable to speak from
actual observation, except in the specimen under considera-
tion. Dr. Godman, however, thinks that this does not always
exist. The nearest approach of this species is certainly to
the variabilis of the old continent, from which it neverthe-
less appears to be distinct, in manj^ particulars of its form
and habits.

The American Varying Hare appears to inhabit a great
portion of North America, as it has been found in Virginia,
and as far north as 55 degrees, whilst eastward it is found
on the great plains of the Colombia. It appears generally
to frequent plains and low grounds, where it lives like the
common Hare, never burrowing, but does not resort to the
thick woods. The variabilis of Europe, on the contrary,
is described as always inhabiting the highest mountains,
and never descending into the plains, except when forced

220

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

to seek for food, when the mountains are covered with snow.
The American species is remarkably swift, never taking
shelter when pursued, and is capable of taking astonishing
leaps; Captain Lewis measured some of these, and found
their length to be from eighteen to twenty-one feet. The
variabilis is said, on the other hand, to be rather slow in
its motions, and, when alarmed, to seek for refuge in clefts
of the rocks. Warden, however, states that the virginia-
nus, when pursued, will retreat into hollow trees.

They, like all the Hares, are very prolific, the female
having several litters a year, of five or six leverets at a time.

ON THE GROWTH OF TREES.

One of the most obvious contrasts presented by the vege-
table kingdom, is between the tribes that rapidly expand
their foliage, and push up their flower-bearing stems, and

its leaves. As soon as the season again becomes milder,
vegetation, which had been suspended, is renewed; the
buds insensibly expand, and the unfolding of new leaves
gives a new life to the plant; each of these leaves is accom-
panied by its bud. Thus each successive season, producing
a mass of foliage, which increases by a rapid geometrical
progression, and an equal number of new buds, occasions
the formation of a new body of ligneous substance, which
overlays the whole body, and thus forms the whole tree in-
to a kind of cone.

The whole mass of the wood is thus composed of thin
successive cones. They are easily perceived in many trees,
and it is they which form those concentric circles observa-
ble in a trunk cut across. Each circle, depending wholly
upon the increase caused by the return of successive seasons,
becomes a sure testimony of the age of the tree.

The principal part of our trees exhibits these laws of de-
velopment. The buds may be more or less apparent; and
the scales which enclose tliem may be more or less nume-
rous, being increased in number in proportion to the greater

by bringing their fruit to perfection, fulfil the purpose of sensibility of the organs which they enclose,
their creation in the space of a few months, or even weeks,
and those monarchs of the forest which bear aloft their ma-
jestic branches in the air, and see centuries passing by them,
while generation after generation of herbs, and even men,
are perishing at their feet. One would think that if any
thing could indicate a difference of organization, it would
be peculiarities like these. In fact, if we examine one of
these vegetable colossi, which storms or other accidents have
levelled with the earth that was so long overshadowed by its
branches, we perceive that its interior consists of a solid,
compact, homogeneous substance, which seems to be ana-
logous to nothing in the annual plant ; we also see, how-
ever, that a section of this substance is marked by concentric
circles. In order to ascertain the origin of these circles, it
is necessary to revert to the seeds, which such a tree pro-
duces in vast abundance. There we discover the same parts
as in the annual plants; two cotyledones; a cylinder, which
attempts to fix itself in the earth by the production of roots;
and an intermediate bud. The impulse once given to its
development, this seed, with its apparently feeble resources,
will become in the lapse of years and ages similar to that
giant which produced it. In the leaves and buds consist the
sources of its magnitude; the former being under the neces-
sity, on the one hand, of coming into contact with air, and
on the other, of establishing a communication witii the soil,
establish the action of vegetation. The first year passes on
as in the annual plant, except that the parts of the tree are
unfolded with less rapidity, and that the buds present nei-
tlier flowers nor fruit, but a tree covered with scales. Upon
the arrival of winter the annual perishes, the tree loses only

For a more
sure protection, the scales are often covered with glutinous
or resinous exudations. But even with this safeguard, the
fostering hand of nature does not rest. Thick furs are fre-
quently interposed during the winter among the buds, and
thrown over the tender shoots.

By this means the buds remain safely upon the tree. We
generally remark one which is a termination of the branch
and which will the following year prolong the branch in its
original direction; all the others are seated at the axillBe of
the leaves.

Trees present many peculiarities, which depend upon
their woody state. The pith, which occupies the centre of
young plants, disappears in trees. It is probable that, be-
sides the increase in diameter which takes place externally,
some peculiar operation goes forward in the inside, and that
the solid layers of wood compress the pith in such a way as
to leave scarcely any traces behind. Around it vegetation
is evidently maintained for a long time, as is shown by the
green tinge which surrounds it. Larger and more obvious
vessels are placed about it than elsewhere, and constitute
what is called the etui medullaire by the French, which
there is reason to think is one of the most important acces-
sories of vegetation.

The wood does not at once arrive at that solidity which
it subsequently possesses, but acquires it by slow degrees,
from the centre to the circumference. For this reason the
external layers are much less compact, and paler than the
internal; they are called the alburnum. Dutrochet accounts
for this difierence in the old and new layers of wood with
his usual sagacity. He is of opinion that a portion of the

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

221

sap, elaborated and sent downwards by the leaves under
the state of proper juice, is absorbed laterally by means of
the radiating vessels, or gilver grain, and is gradually depo-
sited in the originally empty vessels of the wood ; that the
compactness and weight of wood depend upon these juices
so deposited, and not upon any constitutional difference in
the wood itself; and that in certain trees, which are re-
markably light, as the poplar, no deposit, or scarcely any,
takes place.

The bark also undergoes material changes in the course
of time. The first branches which are produced are green,
like the leaves; their colour being occasioned by the trans-
parency of the epidermis, which allows the cellular tissue,
or the parenchyma, to show through. By slow degrees the
epidermis thickens, and assumes a deeper colour, under
which appearance it is seen in the winter season. If it is
raised up, the green colour of the parenchyma is still mani-
fest enough beneath it. The epidermis necessarily gives
way gradually to the growth of the tree, and splitting in
various directions is replaced by another; and by slow
degrees new layers are formed, and burst in various direc-
tions. According to the nature of the plant the epidermis
also takes a variety of forms, sometimes forming the mis-
shapen knotty crust which is usually called bark, sometimes
peeling off in thin layers, and occasionally falling from the
parent tree in hard flakes.

It is probable that the bark performs the same functions
as the leaves, in the early state of the buds, and occasionally
in all states. Otherwise it would not be easy to account for
the growth of cacti, euphorbias, some apocineous plants, &c.
which are all destitute of leaves. In fine, the bark may be
compared to a universal leaf, with one surface only.

We have seen what ingenious methods nature adopts to
screen the buds from the rigour of winter; but in countries
where there is no winter no defence is requisite. These
protecting scales diminish, therefore, by degrees, as we ap-
proach the equator. In the trees which cover countries in
such a latitude, the buds break forth at once into leaves and
branches, without regarding the order of seasons. By this
circumstance the apparent difference between trees and
herbs is removed.

In like manner, insensible gradations unite the herbs
which creep or trail along the ground, and those which
carry their heads aloft in the air: the perennial and the
annual vegetable. Some exist for two years. The stems of
others perish every year, but their roots survive. Some
under shrubs scarcely elevate themselves from the soil, yet
their slender stems are formed of a firm and woody sub-
stance. Next come the shrubs whose branched and entangled
stems from bushes. Lastly are perfected the trees, which,
from possessing a stem scarcely loftier than the stature of a
3K

man, finally dilate themselves till they become the giants of
the forest.

We have assigned, as the cause of increase in the bulk of
trees, the communication which is established in their system
between the leaves and roots. The reciprocity of disposition
of these two organs is so strong, that if a bit of a branch of
any tree which is robust enough to bear the operation, be
placed in the earth, it immediately makes good the loss it
has sustained by being dissevered. It presently produces
fresh roots, and a new plant is formed. The advantage
which is taken of this peculiarity of plants, to propagate
them by cuttings or layers, is well known. But this is not
all ; a bud separated from its parent, and inserted between
the bark and the wood of another tree, soon establishes the
requisite communication between itself and the earth, and
renders the tree which bears it similar in nature to the kind
artificially inserted. Hence the origin of budding and graft-
ing in horticulture.

From these observations it has become evident that the
life of a plant is a succession of several lives; and that the
greater proportion of its parts consists of an intermediate
system, which only serves to maintain a communication
between the extreme points of the vegetable. If a tree is
destroyed by the ravages of time, its death can be only occa-
sioned by the destruction of the intermediate portions of its
fabric, by which the channel of continuous communication is
effectually interrupted. After such interruption has taken
place, the still surviving portions of the tree are capable of
furnishing layers or cuttings, which will renew the opera-
tion of vegetation with unabated vigour.

The resources of nature are far from being exhausted by
these apparent buds ; there exists throughout the vegetable
system a creative and expansive power, which, according to
circumstances, is able to operate in the development of new
buds, where none had been visible before. In fact, there is
always an abundance of rudimentary buds dispersed among
the substance of a tree, which are only called into action
when the ordinary resources of nature begin to fail. They
are frequently excited very long after the period which had
been originally assigned for their appearance; and even in
places where no traces of them could have been expected
to exist. Thus in all vegetables there appears to be as
obvious a line of demarcation in the system, at that point
which is called the collar, whence the first ascending fibres
direct their course upwards, and the descending downwards.
Buds are only produced by the former, and form no part of
the economy of the latter. Yet it not unfrequently happens,
that roots exposed in a proper degree to the influence of the
air will form buds, and throw up shoots, in the same way as
the branches. Even the leaves have, in a few cases, a simi-
lar power of producing buds, and consequently young plants.

2-22

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY.

We have now seen that the growth of plants, and their
increase in size, depend upon a peculiar internal movement,
acting between the leaves and the roots. But in what way
does it operate? This is a problem which has exercised the
ingenuity of all students of vegetable physiology, who have
contrived theories innumerable to explain the phenomenon
which is called the circulation of the sap.

The great and almost impenetrable obscurity in which
this subject is unavoidably involved, has occasioned much
diversity of opinion among phytologists. Grew states two
hypothesis, which he seems to have entertained at different
periods, though it is not quite certain to which of them he
finally gave the preference. In one of them he attributes
the ascent of the sap to its volatile and magnetic nature,
aided by the agency of fermentation ; but this hypothesis
is by much too fanciful to bear the test of serious investiga-
tion. In the other he attributes the entrance and first stage
of the sap's ascent to the agency of capillary attraction, and
accounts for its progress as follows: the portion of the tube
that is now swelled vsrith sap, being surrounded with the
vesiculse of the parenchyma, swelled also with sap, which
they have taken up by suction or filtration, is consequently
so compressed, that the sap therein is forced upwards a
second stage, and so on till it reaches the summit of the
plants. But, if the vesiculse of the parenchyma receive
their moisture only by suction or filtration, it is plain that
there is a stage of ascent beyond which they cannot be thus
moistened, and cannot, consequently, act any longer upon
the longitudinal tubes. The supposed cause, therefore, is
inadequate to the production of the effect.

Malpighi was of opinion that the sap ascends by means
of the contraction and dilatation of the air contained in the
air vessels. This supposition is perhaps somewhat more
plausible than either of Grew's; but, in order to render the
cause efficient, it was necessary that the tubes should be
furnished with valves, which were accordingly supposed;
but of which the existence has been totally disproved by
succeeding phytologists. If the stem or branch of a plant
is cut transversely, in the bleeding season, it will bleed a
little from above as well as from below: and if the stem of
any species of spurge is cut in two, a milky juice will exude
from both sections in almost any season of the year. Also
if a plant is inverted, the stem will become a root, and the
root a stem and branches, the sap ascending equ.dly well
in a contrary direction through the same vessels; as may
readily be proved by planting a willow twig in an inverted
position. But these facts are totally incompatible with the
exislxjnce of valves; and the opinion of Malpighi is conse-
quently proved to be groundless.

The next hypothesis is that of M. De la Hire, who seems
to have attempted to account for the phenomenon by com-

bining together the theories of Grew and Malpighi. Be-
lieving that the absorption of the sap was occasioned by the
spongy parenchyma, which envelopes the longitudinal tubes,
he tried to illustrate the subject by means of the experiment
of making water to ascend in coarse paper, which it did
readily to the height of six inches, and by particular man-
agement even to the height of eighteen inches. But, in
order to complete the theory, valves were also found to be
necessary, and were accordingly summoned to its aid. The
sap which was thus absorbed by the root, was supposed to
ascend through the woody fibre, by the force of suction, to
a certain height; that is, till it got above the first set of
valves, which prevented its return backwards; when it was
again supposed to be attracted as far before, till it got to the
second set of valves, and so on till it got to the top of the
plant.

This theory was afterwards adopted by Borelli, who en-
deavoured to render it more perfect, by bringing to its aid
the influence of the condensation and rarefaction of the air
and juices of the plant, as a cause of the sap's ascent. And
on this principle he endeavoured also to account for the
greater force of vegetation in the spring and autumn; be-
cause the changes of the atmosphere are then the most fre-
quent under a moderate temperature; while in the summer
and winter the changes of the atmosphere are but few, and
the air and juices either too much rarefied, or too much con-
densed, so that the movement of the sap is thus at least
prejudicially retarded, if not perhaps wholly suspended.
But as this theory, with all its additional modifications, is
still but a combination of the theories of Grew and Mal-
pighi, it cannot be regarded as afibrding a satisfactory solu-
tion of the phenomenon of the sap's ascent.

With this impression upon his mind, and with the best
qualifications for the undertaking, Du Hamel directed his
efforts to the solution of the difficulty, by endeavouring to
account for the phenomenon from the agencj' of heat, and
chiefly on the following grounds: because the sap begins to
flow more copiously as the warmth of spring returns; be-
cause the sap is sometimes found to flow on the south side
of a tree before it flows on the north side ; that is, on the
side exposed to the influence of the sun's heat sooner than
on the side deprived of it ; because plants may be made to
vegetate even in winter, by means of forcing them in a hot-
house; and because plants raised in a hot-house produce their
fruit earlier than such as vegetate in the open air.

On this intricate but important subject, Linnaeus appears
to have embraced the opinion of Du Hamel, or an opinion
very nearly allied to it, but does not seem to have strength-
ened it by any new accession of argument, so that none of
the hitherto alleged causes can be regarded as adequate to
the production of the efl'ect.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

According to Saussure, the cause of the sap's ascent is to
be found in a peculiar species cl' irritability, inherent in the
sap vessels themselves, and dependant upon vegetable life;
in consequence of which they are rendered capable of a
certain degree of contraction, according; as the internal
surface is affected by the application of stimuli, as well as
of subsequent dilatation, according as the action of the
stimulus subsides: .hus admitting and propelling the sap
by alternate dilatation and contraction. In order to give
elucidation to the subject, let the tube be supposed to con-
sist of an indefinite number of hollow cylinders, united one
to another, and let the sap be supposed to enter the first
cylinder by suction, or by capillary attraction, or by any
other adequate means; then the first cylinder, being ex-
cited by the stimulus of the sap, begins gradually to contract,
and to propel the contained fluid into the cylinder imme-
diately above it. But the cylinder immediately above it,
when acted on in the same manner, is affected in the same
manner; and thus the fluid is propelled from cylinder to
cylinder, till it reaches the summit of the plant. So also,
when the first cylinder has discharged its contents into the
second, and is no longer acted upon by the stimulus of the
sap, it begins again to be dilated in its original capacity,
and prepared for the introsusception of a new portion of
fluid. Thus a supply is constantly kept up, and the sap
continues to flow.

But Mr. Knight has presented us with another, which,
whatever may be its real value, merits at least our par-
ticular notice, as coming from an author who stands de-
servedly high in the list of phytological writers. This
theory rests upon the principle of the contraction and dila-
tation, not of the sap vessels themselves, as in the theory of
Saussure, but of what Mr. Knight denominates the silver
grain, assisted perhaps by heat and humidity, expanding or
condensing the fluids. On the transverse section of the
trunk of woody plants, particularly the oak, they appear in
the form of the radii of a circle, extending from the pith to
the bark; and on the longitudinal cleft or fissure of the
trunk of most trees, but particularly the elm, they appear
in the form of fragments of thin and vertical laminae, or
plates, interlacing the ascending tubes in a transverse di-
rection, and touching them at short intervals, so as to form
with them a sort of irregular wicker-work, or to exhibit
the resemblance of a sort of web. Such, then, being the
close and complicated union of the plates and longitudinal
tubes, the propulsion of the sap in the latter may be easily
accounted for, as it is thought, by means of the alternate
contraction and dilatation of the former, if we will but allow
them to be susceptible to change of temperature; which
susceptibility is proved, as it is also thought, from the fol-
lowing facts: on the surface of an oaken plant that was

exposed to the influence of the sun's rays, the transverse
layers were observed to be so considerably affected by
change of temperature as to suggest a belief tnat organs
which were still so restless, now that the tree was dead,
could not have been formed to be altogether idle while it
was alive. Accordingly, on the surface of the trunk of an
oak deprived of part of its bark, the longitudinal clefts and
fissures, which were perceptible during the day, were found
to close during the night. But in the act of dilating they
must press unavoidably on the longitudinal tubes, and con-
sequently propel the sap; while in the act of contracting
they again allow the tubes to expand and take in a new sup-
ply. This is the substance of the theory.

But, in drawing this grand and sweeping conclusion,
Keith has well remarked, that it should have been recol-
lected, that change of temperature cannot act upon the
transverse layers of a tree that is covered with its bark, in
the same manner as it acts upon those o^ a tree that is
stripped of its bark ; or upon those of a plank ; and if it
were even found to act equally upon both, still its action
would be but of little avail. For, according to what law
is the machinery of the plates to be contracted and dilated,
so as to give impulse to the sap? According to the alternate
succession of heat and humidity? But this is by much too
precarious an rlternation to account for the constant, and
often rapid, propulsion of the sap, especially at the season
of bleeding. For there may be too long a continuance of
heat, or the e maj be too long a continuance of humidity;
and what is to become of the plant during this interval of
alternation ? If we are to regard it as happening only once
in the space of twenty-four hours, as in the case of the oak,
it can never be of much eflicacy in aiding the propulsion of
the sap. But if we should even grant more, and admit the
alternate contraction and dilatation of the vessels to be as
frequent as you please, still their effect would be extremely
doubtful, owing to a want of unity or co-operation in the
action of different plates, or of different portions of the same
plate. If heat, like humidity, entered the plant by the root,
and proceeded gradually upwards, like the ascending sap,
perhaps it might be somewhat efficacious in carrying a por-
tion of sap along with it; but as this is not the case, and as
the roots of plants are but little affected by change of tem-
perature, while the trunk and upper parts may be affected
considerably, it can scarcely be supposed that the action of
the plates will be uniform throughout tiie whole plant; or
rather, it must be supposed, that it will nften be directly in
opposition to that which is necessary to the propulsion of
the sap. But, admitting that the sap is propelled by the
agency of the plates in question, and ad.mitting that it has
been thus raised to the extremity of the woody part of the
plant, how are we to account for its ascent in such parts

THE CABINET OF NATURAT. HTSTORY

as are yet higher ; the leaf-stalk and leaf, the flower-stalk
and flower ; as well as in the herb also, and in the lofty-
palm, in which no such plates exist? Here it will be ne-
cessary to introduce the agency of a new cause, to com-
plete the work that has been thus begun, and of a new set
of machinery to supply the deficiency or absence of the ma-
chinery that has been already invented.

How unsatisfactory the best of these theories is, must be
self-evident, even to persons unacquainted with the struc-
ture of vegetables. Du Petit Thouars has, therefore, pro-
posed a new hypothesis, which to us seems by far the least
objectionable. He dismisses the question of the mechanical
action by which the motion of the sap is maintained; think-
ing, with much justice, that no principle of physics, with
which we are acquainted, is sufficient to explain it, and he
therefore attributes the mere motion to an inherent power,
with which nature has been pleased to endow vegetables.
But the cause of the renewal of its motion in the spring,
after remaining in a quiescent state for several months, he
ascribes to the necessity of maintaining a perfect equi-
librium in the system of a plant. So that, if a consumption
of sap is produced at any given point, the necessity of
making good the space so occasioned, consequently throws
all the particles of sap into motion, and the same effect will
continue to operate as long as any consumption of sap takes
place. The first cause of this consumption of sap he de-
clares to be the development of the buds, and already
formed young leaves, by the stimulating action of light and
heat, but particularly of the latter. As soon as this deve-
lopment occurs, an assimilation and absorption of sap is
occasioned, for the support of the young leaves; a vacancy
in the immediate vicinity of the leaves is produced, and
motion immediately takes place.

We will not occupy ourselves with an explanation of the
cause of the descent of the sap : gravitation will serve the
purpose, in the room of a more plausible conjecture.

But, notwithstanding all the differences which exist
among trees, they approach each other by insensible de-
grees; and yet they individually retain a peculiar set of
characters, and a physiognomy, which botanists call habit,
that renders it easy to distinguish them at great distances;
and more easy to eyes habituated to the sight of them, by
practice and long familiarity, than by the aid of theory.

Buffon's Nat. Hist.

CARBONATED SPRINGS.

Carbonic acid gas is very plentifully disengaged from
springs in almost all countries, but particularly near active
or extinct volcanos. This elastic fluid has the property of

decomposing many of the hardest rocks with which ft
comes in contact, particularly that numerous class in whose
composition felspar is an ingredient. It renders the oxide
of iron soluble in water, and contributes, as was before
stated, to the solution of calcareous matter. In volcanic
districts, these gaseous emanations are not confined to
springs, but rise up in the state of pure gas from the soil in
various places. The Grotto delle Cane, near Naples, af-
fords an example, and prodigious quantities are now annu-
ally disengaged from every part of the Limagne d'Auvergne,
where it appears to have been developed in equal quantity
from time immemorial. As the acid is invisible, it is not
observed, except an excavation be made, wherein it imme-
diately accumulates so that it will extinguish a candle.
There are some springs in this district, where the water is
seen bubbling and boiling up with much noise, in conse-
quence of the abundant disengagement of this gas. The
whole vegetation is affected, and many trees, such as the
walnut, flourish more luxuriantly than they would other-
wise do in the same soil and climate, — the leaves probably
absorbing carbonic acid. This gas is found in springs rising
through the granite near Clermont, as well as in the ter-
tiary limestones of the Limagne. In the environs of Pont-
Gibaud, not far from Clermont, a rock belonging to the
gneiss formation, in which lead-mines are worked, has
been found to be quite saturated with carbonic acid gas,
which is constantly disengaged. The carbonates of iron,
lime, and manganese are so dissolved, that the rock is ren-
dered soft, and the quartz alone remains unattacked. Not
far off is the small volcanic cone of Chaluzet, which once
broke up through the gneiss, and sent forth a lava stream.

The disintegration of granite is a striking feature of large
districts in Auvergne, especially in the neighbourhood of
Clermont. This decay was called, by Dolomieu, "la ma-
ladie du granite;" and the rock may with propriety be said
to have the rot, for it crumbles to pieces in the hand. The
phenomenon may, without doubt, be ascribed to the conti-
nual disengagement of carbonic acid gas from numerous
fissure?. In the plains of the Po, between Verona and
Parma, especially at Villa Franca, south of Mantua, I ob-
served great beds of alluvium, consisting chiefly of primary
pebbles percolated by spring water, charged with carbonate
of lime and carbonic acid in great abundance. They are,
for the most part, encrusted with calc-sinter; and the
rounded blocks of gneiss, which have all the appearance of
solidity, have been so disintegrated by the carbonic acid as
readily to fall to pieces. The Po and other rivers, in wind-
ing through this plain, might now remove with ease those
masses wliich, at a more remote period, the stream was
unable to carry farther towards the sea; and in this exam-
ple we may perceive how necessary it is, in reasoning on

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

the transporting power of running water, to consider all the
numerous agents which may co-operate in the lapse of ages,
in conveying the wreck of mountains to the sea. A gra-
nite block might remain stationary for ages, and defy the
power of a large river; till at length a small spring may
break out, surcharged with carbonic acid, — the rock may
be decomposed, and a streamlet may transport the whole
mass to the ocean.

The subtraction of many of the elements of rocks by the
solvent power of carbonic acid, ascending both in a gaseous
state and mixed with spring-water in the crevices of rocks,
must be one of the most powerful sources of those internal
changes and re-arrangement of particles so often observed
in strata of every age. The calcareous matter, for example,
of shells, is often entirely removed and replaced by carbo-
nate of iron, pyrites, or silex, or some other ingredient, such
as mineral waters usually contain in solution. It rarely
happens, except in limestone rocks, that the carbonic acid
can dissolve all the constituent parts of the mass; and for
this reason, probably, calcareous rocks are almost the only
ones in which great caverns and long winding passages are
found. The grottos and subterranean passages, in certain
lava-currents, are due to a different cause, and will be spo-
ken of in another place. Lyell's Geology.

ERUPTION OF JORULLO IN 1759.

As another example of the stupendous scale of modern
volcanic eruptions, we may mention that of Jorullo, in
Mexico, in 1759. We have already described the great
region to which this mountain belongs. The plain of Mal-
pais forms part of an elevated plateau, between two and
three thousand feet above the level of the sea, and is bound-
ed by hills composed of basalt, trachyte, and volcanic tuff,
dearly indicating that the country had previously, though
probably at a remote period, been the theatre of igneous
action. From the era of the discovery of the New World
to the middle of the last century, the district had remained
undisturbed, and the space, now the site of the volcano,
which is thirty-six leagues distant from the nearest sea, was
occupied by fertile fields of .sugar-cane and indigo, and wa-
tered by the two brooks Cuitimba and San Pedro. In the
month of June, 1759, hollow sounds of an alarming nature
were heard, and earthquakes succeeded each other for two
months, until, in September, flames issued from the ground,
and fragments of burning rocks were thrown to prodigious
heights. Six volcanic cones, composed of scorias and frag-
mentary lava, were formed on the line of a chasm which
ran in the direction from N.N.E. to S.S.W. The least of
3 L

these cones was three hundred feet in height, and Jorullo,
the central volcano, was elevated one thousand six hundred
feet above the level of the plain. It sent forth great streams
of basaltic lava, containing included fragments of primitive
rocks, and its ejections did not cease till the month of Fe-
bruary, 1760. Humboldt visited the country twenty years
after the occurrence, and was informed by the Indians,
that when they returned long after the catastrophe to the
plain, they found the ground uninhabitable from the exces-
sive heat. When the Prussian traveller himself visited the
locality, there appeared, round the base of the cones, and
spreading from them as from a centre over an extent of four
square miles, a mass of matter five hundred and fifty feet in
height, in a convex form, gradually sloping in all directions
towards the plain. This mass was still in a heated state,
the temperature in the fissures being sufficient to light a
cigar at the depth of a few inches. On this convex protu-
berance were thousands of flattish conical mounds, from six
to nine feet high, which, as well as large fissures traversing
the plain, acted as fumeroles, giving out clouds of sulphuric
acid and hot aqueous vapour. The two small rivers before
mentioned disappeared during the eruption, losing them-
selves below the eastern extremity of the plain, and re-ap-
pearing as hot springs at its western limit. Humboldt
attributed the convexity of the plain to inflation from below,
supposing the ground, for four square miles in extent, to
have risen up in the shape of a bladder, to the elevation of
five hundred and fifty feet above the plain in the highest
part. But this theory, which is entirely unsupported by
analogy, is by no means borne out by the facts described;
and it is the more necessary to scrutinize closely the proofs
relied on, because the opinion of Humboldt appears to have
been received as if founded on direct observation, and has
been made the groundwork of other bold and extraordinary
theories. Mr. Scrope has suggested that the phenomena
may be accounted for far more naturally, by supposing that
lava flowing simultaneously from the different orifices, and
principally from Jorullo, united into a sort of pool or lake.
As they were poured forth on a surface previously flat, they
would, if their liquidity was not very great, remain thickest
and deepest near their source, and diminish in bulk from
thence towards the limits of the space which they covered.
Fresh supplies were probably emitted successively during
the course of an eruption which lasted a year, and some of
these resting on those first emitted, might only spread to a
small distance from the foot of the cone, where they would
necessarily accumulate to a great height.

The showers, also, of loose and pulverulent matter from
the six craters, and principally from Jorullo, would be com-
posed of heavier and more bulky particles near the cones,
and would raise the ground at their base, where, mixing

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

with rain, they might have given rise to the stratum of
black clay which is described as covering the lava. The
small conical mounds (called "hornitos" or ovens) may
resemble those five or six small hillocks which existed in
1S23, on the Vesuvian lava, and sent forth columns of va-
pour, having been produced by the disengagement of elastic
fluids heaving up small dome-shaped masses of lava. The
fissures mentioned by Humboldt as of frequent occurrence,
are such as might naturally accompany the consolidation of
a thick bed of lava, contracting as it congeals; and the
disappearance of rivers is the usual result of the occupation
of the lower part of a valley or plain by lava, of which there
arc many beautiful examples in the old lava-currents of
Auvergne. The heat of the "hornitos" is stated to have
diminished from the first, and Mr. Bullock, who visited
the spot many years after Humboldt, found the temperature
of the hot spring very low, a fact which seems clearly to
indicate the gradual congelation of a subjacent bed of lava,
which, from its immense thickness, may have been enabled
to retain its heat for half a century.

Another argument adduced in support of the theory of
inflation from below, was the hollow sound made by the steps
of a horse upon the plain, which, however, proves nothing
more than that the materials of which the convex mass is
composed are light and porous. The sound called " rini-
bombo" by the Italians, is very commonly returned by
made ground, when struck sharply, and has been observed
not only on the sides of Vesuvius and other volcanic cones
where there is a cavity below, but in plains such as the
Campagna di Roma, composed in great measure of tuff and
porous volcanic rocks. The reverberation, however, may,
perhaps, be assisted by grottos and caverns, for these may
be as numerous in the lavas of Jorullo, as in many of those
of jEtna: but their existence would lend no countenance to
the hypothesis of a great arched cavity, or bubble, four
square miles in extent, and in the centre five hundred and
fifty feet high. A subsequent eruption of Jorullo happened
in 1S19, accompanied by an earthquake; but unfortunately
no European travellers have since visited the spot, and
the only facts hitherto known are that ashes fell at the
city of Guanaxuato, which is distant about one hundred and
forty English miles from Jorullo, in such quantities as to
lie six inches deep in the streets, and the tower of the cathe-
dral of Guadalaxara was thrown down. Lyell.

BLACK GROUSE.

The Black Grouse, black game, or black cock, [tetrao
tetrix,^ though inferior in size to the cock of the woods, is

still a bird of considerable dimensions, being much larger
than the red grouse; and when full-grown, larger than the
pheasant. The black cock is a very handsome bird; the
general colour is black, but it is irridescent, and in certain
positions of the light shows a very fine purple. The tail is
very much forked, the outside feathers curled, and the
lower part, towards the base, white. Upon the throat there
is a kind of down, but no long or regularly-formed feathers.
The length of the male bird is about twenty-eight inches,
and the extent of the wings nearly three feet; and the weight
between three and four pounds. The female is a much
smaller bird, and has not the curled feathers in the tail.

Though the places at which the Black Grouse is found are
not quite so elevated — so near to the summits of the moun-
tains as the habitations of the ptarmigan — it is a bird fond of
wild and secluded spots: and its numbers in these islands
are very fast declining. What with improvements of land,
and improvements in the arts of its destruction, it is not
nearly so abundant in England as it was formerly; though
it be still met with in the more elevated and secluded places
in the south of England, in Staffordshire, in North Wales,
and generally where there are high and lonely moors. In
the Alpine parts of Scotland it is more abundant, though
the introduction of sheep, generally, upon the mountains,
is said to be diminishing the numbers. The black cocks
are more frequently found in the woods than the red grouse,
though the moors, with a diflerence of elevation, be the
favorite abodes of both. Their food is also similar; consist-
ing of mountain-berries, the tops of heath, and the buds of
pine and other Alpine trees. Though they seek their food
in the open places during the day, they, where they have
the accommodation of trees, perch during the night like
pheasants. It is chiefly during the winter months, how-
ever, and the early parts of spring, when all food, save the
tops of the pines, is hidden under the snow, that they do
that; for when the breeding season commences, they assem-
ble on the tops of the mountains and highest parts of the
moors, but never higher than they can find heath; the young
shoots and embryo blossoms of which are at that time their
principal food.

Some parts of their character resemble that of common
poultry. They do not pair; but when the breeding season
commences, the cocks ascend to the tops of the mountains,
and clap their wings and crow; to which call the females an-
swer, by making their appearance, and uttering a sort of
clucking sound. War immediately ensues among the
males, as each is anxious to have in his train as m.any
females as possible. Their heels are armed with spurs:
their mode of fighting is the same as that of game-cocks,
and they enter upon the strife with the same devotedness.
Although upon other occasions they are among the shyest of

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

227

birds, they are then so intent upon the victory in their own
battle, that they do not heed the approach of strangers. Not
only may all that are within the spread of a musket-shot be
killed at one shot, but they may be struck a second time
with a stick, so eager are they for victory among themselves.
The nests, like those of most of the gallinaceous birds, are
rude; the eggs are usually six or seven; they are of a yel-
lowish white, dotted with very minute ferruginous specks;
and about the size of those of the pheasant. The young
are produced rather late in the season, but as there is then
plenty of food, they grow rapidly. In their early stage
they follow the mother, and nestle under her wings in some
safe place during the night; but after about five weeks, they
have acquired so much strength and use of their wings as to
be able to perch along with her. As the winter sets in, the
diflerent families leave their mothers, and the whole assem-
ble in flocks like the red grouse. They are never, so far as
our observation has gone, found, like those, even in the
margins of the cultivated fields, but continue in the moun-
tains during the winter; finding, as is supposed, their food
under the snow, and being also often found in their retreats
by beasts and birds of prey.

When the snow begins to fall heavy, the black grouse
betake themselves to the shelter of tall heath, juniper, or
any other plant, that will afford them cover while the vio-
lent wind, with which falls of snow are usually accompained
in Alpine districts, lasts; or they roost under the thick bran-
ches of the pines, in situations where they have access to
these. Even upon the pines, the snow forms a close canopy,
which lasts for a considerable time, while below there is a
sufficiency of air for the breathing of the bird. In the shel-
ter of the bushes they are obliged, like the white hares and
other inhabitants of the mountains, to open breathing holes
for themselves; and while they are pent up in their habita-
tions of snow, the tops of the heather, or leaves of the bush,
find them in food. When the surface becomes hard [which
it does in no great length of time after the fall of snow is
over, in consequence of the softening of the surface by the
action of the sun, and the congealing of it again at night, till
it is converted into a crust of smooth ice, and reflects off the
greater part of the solar heat obliquely, as the rays then fall
upon the surface] those breathing holes often betray their
inmates to the ravages of predatory birds and quadrupeds.
The mountain-eagles and hawks then fly over the snowy
surface, and beat in the same manner for these holes, as they
do for the birds themselves when there is no snow upon the
ground; and the four-footed ravager, that then find an easy
passage along the hard surface, join in the spoil. INIan
sometimes also takes a part in it, but much less frequently,
because there are concealed holes and precipices under the
snow, which are full of danger.

But the winds by which the falls of snow in the Alpine
countries are accompanied, though they render these formi-
dable to the animals, whether quadruped or bird, while they
last, and fatal to man if he be overtaken by them late in the
day and far from his home, have yet their uses, and tend in
some measure to the preservation of life. Some portions
toward the windward are left bare, or at any rate with the
tops of the heath and other plants above the surface, and the
vigorous find their way to these, and subsist on them till
other parts of the surface be clear. When, however, the
snow falls in continued storms, and especially with the
wind from opposite points during the diiTerent falls, the suf-
ferings of the creatures are extreme: first, those that live on
vegetables, perish through suflbcation or of hunger, and
then the carnivorous ones, which can in general subsist
longer without food, follow in their turn; and when the
snow clears away, the raven comes to enjoy the spoils of
both.

These are but a few of the inhabitants of the moor; but
moor means so many different kinds of country, according
to the situation in which it is placed, that there is no possi-
bility of including in a short space the characters that are
common to all. There are comparatively few quadrupeds
peculiar to such situations, and the number of insects is not
great; the plants, too, though more abundant and more nu-
merous in their species, are not those that are the most strik-
ing in their appearance, or the most interesting in their pro-
perties.

Alpine hares are sometimes found in the more elevated
parts of the higher moors, and the common hare in the low-
er parts of those that are near the cultivated grounds; but
the only quadrupeds which can be considered as natives,
and permanent inhabitants of the moors in any part of
Britain, are deer; and they properly fall into the descrip-
tion of a more limited and peculiar description of scenery.
We must, therefore, even though the subject be merely be-
gun, close our account of this division of the surface of our
country. There are other circumstances connected with it
in common with other places, to which we can afterwards
advert with more effect. What has been mentioned will
tend to show that, even in one of its departments, that por-
tion of the earth's surface which, on account of its flatness
and its sterility, is the least pleasing or promising, is yet
fraught with lessons of the greatest importance, if we would
only pause and read them. Nor even when tlie moor has
advanced one step further, and become a desart in the burn-
ing climate, or a peat-bog in the cold and marshy one, can
we dare to say, that it is without its usefulness. The peat-
bog is the coal-field of future times, and the waste of Zahara
must have its use, or it would not have existence.

British Naturalist.

223 THE CABINET OF NATUIL\L HISTORY

TORPIDITY OF THE GROUND SQUIRREL.

Gentlemen,

In the eighth number of the Cabinet of Natural History,
you have published an account of the habits of the Ground
Squirrel, with a correct representation of the same; one of
the singular peculiarities of this animal as observed by me is
not stated, viz. : its liability to become torpid during very
severe weather, a fact which I noticed some five or six years
since, in one that a friend of mine had which was kept in
a cage, having been captured the preceding summer, and
which was admired for its sprightliness and activity in turn-
ing a cylindrical wheel attached to the cage; my children had
at the same time a flying squirrel.

The difference between them was very apparent, the former
practising his gambols on the wheel in day time, the latter
only at night; it was proposed to send his Ground Squirrel to
my house, in order to ascertain whether they would associ-
ate with each other; in the course of a few days afterwards
the weather set in very cold, and to my surprise in looking
into the cage I found the Ground Squirrel lying on the bot-
tom apparently dead ; I immediately took it out, and on ex-
amination to ascertain whether it had received an injury, I
discovered symptoms of returning animation, produced, no
doubt, by the warmth of the house. It was then wrapped
in flannel and laid under a moderately heated stove, when
in a few minutes it was completely revived, and as lively as
ever; this fact was noticed repeatedly afterwards, and always
with the same result. Supposing consequently, that this
was one of its peculiarities, and having frequently mentioned
it to my friends as such, I had some doubts on reading
your account whether it was common to this species;* and
believing that every fact in relation to the Natural History
of our own country might be interesting, I should be pleased
to know whether the same has ever been noticed by your-
self or any of your correspondents, besides

One of your Subscribers.

* This is not a peculiarity of the Ground Squirrel, but is common to other
Squirrels, and more particularly to the Bat, Dormouse, Bear, &c. We know
of but one author (Pennant, arct Zool.) who records this fact of the Ground
Squirrel, and being found more seldom in tills, than others of its genus, we
thought it unnecessary to notice it.

It may at all events be considered only a semi-torpid state, as it requires
but little warmtli to excite action, as we have seen them in all their wonted
sprightliness running along the fences on a moderately warm day in Janua-
ry, immediately succeeding a very cold day.

The Squirrel above alluded to, having been placed in circumstances entire-
ly different from its natural state, subjected it to the constant changes of
the weather, which produced the effect described; but in its native haunts,
where its storehouses are well filled, it possesses the means to excite the
functions of vitality, and ia only subjected to this semi-torpid state, when
its provisions are exhausted. — En.

SAGACITY OF A GREYHOUND AND POINTER.
A GENTLEMAN in the county of Stirling, Scotland, kept
agreyhound andapointer, and, being fond of coursing, the
pointer was accustomed to find the hares, and the grey-
hound to catch them. When the season was over, it was
found that the dogs were in the habit of going out by them-
selves, and killing the hares for their own amusement. To
prevent this, a large iron ring was fastened to the pointer's
neck by a leather collar, and hung down, so as to prevent
the dog from running or jumping over dykes, &c. The ani-
mals, however, continued to stroll out to the fields together:
and one day the gentleman, suspecting all was not right,
resolved to watch them, and, to his surprise, found that the
moment they thought they were unobserved, the greyhound
took up the iron ring in his mouth, and, carrying it, they
set off to the hills, and began to search for hares as usual.
They were followed, and it was observed that, whenever
the pointer scented the hare, the ring was dropped, and the
greyhound stood ready to pounce upon poor puss the mo-
ment the other drove her from her form, but that he uni-
formly returned to assist his companion when he had accom-
plished his object.

ANECDOTE OF A FOX.
A party returning from shooting late last season, saw a
fox apparently dirty and much distressed, enter a small
thicket, which they soon after surrounded, when several
spaniels were hied in to unkennel him; but, to the astonish-
ment of all, no fox could be found: — "I have constantly
kept my eyes on the brake," said one, "so have I," said
another — "his escape," added a third, "without our seeing
him, is next to impossible." Whilst wondering at this
strange circumstance, an old gentleman, very well mounted,
rode up to them, to whom they told the story. "A more
game fox," replied the veteran, "never ran on four legs;
we have followed him a full hour, mostly at the very height
of our speed, and ere this he would probably have breathed
his last, but for the rattling of yonder confounded timber
carriages, which headed him, and caused a check; however,
we have not yet done with him, I trust, for the mystery you
speak of somehow or other must be unravelled." Then
raising himself on his saddle, and looking forward, with
great earnestness, "I have it — I have it, gentlemen," said
he, "ten pounds to a shilling, there is an underground com-
munication between the brake and yonder old drain, of
which Reynard availed himself." So indeed it proved —
the hounds coming up, one of them dashed into the drain,
and opening, the others quickly joined, when they all went
off with the fury of a tempest, and soon killed their fox on
a stopped earth in an adjoining cover. — Sport. Mag.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS
RED-TAILED HAWK.

229

FALCO BORE A LIS.

[Plate XX.]

Falco Borealis. Gmel. Syst. Nat. Vol. i. p. 266.— La-
tham. Ind. Ornith. Vol. i. p. 25. Arct. Zool. p. 205,
No. 100. Ch. Buonaparte, Synops, p. 32. Wilson,
Am. Orn. 2cl ed. Vol. i. p. 82. Jlmerican Buzzard,
Lath. i. 50. Turt. Syst. p. 151. F. aquillnus, caucia
ferriiginea, Great Eagle Hawk, Bartram, p. 290.
Philadelphia Museum.

This species of the Hawk is common throughout the
United States, and may be found, during each season of the
year, in the Northern, Middle, Western, and Southern
States. They descend, in the winter season, in some mea-
sure, from the higher latitudes, to less severe climates, and
are very abundant in the Middle States. In the lower parts
of Pennsylvania and New Jersey, they are more commonly
to be seen during the autumn and winter, particularly in
the regions of well-cultivated farms and extensive meadows.
It is one of the most daring and ravenous of our birds of
prey, and not particular as to the kind of food to be
devoured. It, however, derives its chief support from rabbits,
quails, larks, and poultry; and, in the absence of these, rats,
mice, and other vermin. JNIr. Audibon remarks, " I have
seen this species pounce on soft-shelled tortoises, and
amusing enough it was to see the latter scramble towards
the water, enter it, and save tiiemselves from the claws of
the Hawk by diving. I am not avvaro that this Hawk is
ever successful in these attacks, as I have net on any occa-
sion found any portion of the skin, head, or feet of tortoises,
in the stomachs of the many Hawks of this species which I
have killed and examined. Several times, however, I have
found portions of bull-frogs in their stomachs."

In the autumn, when that interesting and vigilant guar-
dian, the king bird, has ceased its parental duties, and taken
its final leave for the southern climate, then it is, that the
Red-tailed Ilawk may be seen prowling about farm houses,
to the terror of the fowls, and consternation of the country
dames, vi'hose lamentations at the loss of poultry, and
tlireatenings of revenge, bespeak the ferocity and destruc-
tive energies of this common enemy.

The daring boldness of this Hawk is without parallel in
its kind. Conscious of the superiority only of man, it
seems, guided by instinct, to delay its depredations until
the farmer is absent from his home, and then, with a rapid
flight, it leaves its seat of observation, and silent as death,
with wings motionless, it skims over the top of the orchard,
3M

direct for the farm house, appearing to choose this dense
collection of foliage to hide it from view, until the first inti-
mation of its approach is resounded from a hundred cack-
ling throats, that the enemy is at hand, and the work of
destruction done. By one swoop, scarcely retarded in its
progress, this bird of prej' seizes its victim in its powerful
talons, and bears it off, still alive, and writhing in the ago-
nies of death, to the wood.

The flight of this Hawk is regular and majestic when
sailing in the air. In the autumn, when the cooling breezes
of the north are playing through the faded leaves of the
forests, then may be seen against a cloudless sky, the spiral
movements of this bird. At first, it leaves its lofty seat
with a few fluttering motions of the wings, and then with
motionless and outstretched pinions, it cleaves the air,inacon-
tinual circular flight, ascending gradually at every revolution,
until it is finally lost to human ken. But when in search of
prey, the majesty of the bird is obscured by its predatory
designs. Its sight, which is only surpassed by that of the
eagle, is most wonderful. Passing rapidly over woods or
fields, the slightest motion on the earth or in the grass, is
detected by the keenness of its vision; then its progress is
immediately retarded by alighting on a neighbouring tree,
or making a contracted circular flight over the spot whence
the motion proceeded, until the cause which arrested its at-
tention is fully ascertained; and if there be a subject for its
appetite, it seldom fails to secure it. When seated on a
tree, this Hawk is grave and watchful; its penetrating eye
pierces through the thickly matted grass, and with the most
intense vigilance, directs its attention to the spot where the
prey lies concealed, and by one bound, like lightning it de-
scends to the earth, and with unerring aim, secures the hap-
less victim.

In the fall of 1826, I was hunting in Jersey, and whilst
beating with my dogs an extensive stubble field, my atten-
tion was attracted by the well-known screams of tlie Red-
tailed Hawk. I had been unsuccessful on ground which I
knew abounded with game, and was at a loss to account for
its disappearance, until the cause was made known by the
vociferations of this Hawk. Casting my eyes toward the
extremitj' of the field, I discovered one of these birds sail-
ing over that part of it which contained an extensive aspa-
ragus bed, where, suddenly the bird's attention was drawn
to some object sheltered beneath the density of the aspara-
gus. In a moment its progress was retarded, and balancing
itself in the air for a few moments, at the height of perhaps
forty feet, it made a sudden plunge into the grass, and there
remained. I took advantage of this shelter, and proceeded
rapidly towards the spot for the purpose of shooting the
Hawk; l)ut ere I reached the desired place, it rose again to
the same height in the air as before, and hovered for a con«

230

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

iiderable time. Having missed its prey in the first attempt,
it was now so intent on the object beneath it, that my ap-
proach was entirely disregarded. In another moment, and
with more fatal aim, it darted into the grass, with a rustling
noise, and soon arose with its victim. Being sufficiently
near, I shot the Hawk, and secured its prize, which was yet
alive. It was a male partridge, and had, with its compa-
nions, sought shelter in the asparagus; but with all the well-
known ingenuity of these birds, it availed nothing against
the penetrating eye of this Hawk.

The voice of the Redtailed Hawk is harsh, and may be
heard at a considerable distance. Its ungracious and terrifying
screams are the signals for its prey to seek shelter from its ta-
lons; but in doing this they commonly fall victims to thisartifice
of their destroyer. Like the lion howling to affrighten and
put in motion the beasts of the forest, that their fears may
overcome their instinct, and press them headlong to destruc-
tion. So it appears to be a finesse of this Hawk to skim the
surface of the ground, and hover around the favourite haunts
of its prey, and by those desolating screams, put in motion
such of the animals or feathered tribe which may be near,
and which, while seeking more secure shelter, are pounced
upon and destroyed by their inveterate enemy.

The Red-tailed Hawk is designated by the farmers under
the titles of the "Chicken Hawk," and "Hen Hawk,"
and many artifices are employed to destroy this bird, so in-
jurious to the farmer's poultry yard. The use of the gun
more frequently fails in their destruction than other means.
Seated, generally, on some detached tree of the wood, or
in the middle of a field, on the decayed extremity of a
topmost branch, the sphere of vision to this Hawk is very
extensive. Naturally shy, and, perhaps, conscious of its
depredations, it avoids man as its common and only enemy:
consequentl)', it is exceedingly difficult to approach, and
can seldom be done, except through the agency of the horse.
In this case, the disposition of the bird appears totally
changed, and by some blind fatality, will suffer a man on
horseback to pass immediately under the tree on which it
sits, without showing signs of fear; but as it is not always
convenient and practicable to employ a horse for this pur-
pose, other means are resorted to. A friend of mine, who
resides a few miles from Philadelphia, has been very suc-
cessful in ridding himself of these Hawks, by using steel
traps. These he would place in the neighbourhood of those
trees usually occupied by the Hawks, and after securing the
traps to the earth, he would bate them with a dead fowl,
and, sometimes, only the feathers and offals of fowls, and
which seldom failed to answer the purpose. He would only
resort to this plan after having discovered a Hawk visit the
same tree two or three times successively.

During protracted cold weather and deep snows, the or-

dinary supplies of food are no longer to be obtained by
Hawks, and, like other shy and vigilant birds, their ferocity
and energies become in a measure subdued, by the severi-
ties of the winter. The past winter was one of unusual
coldness, and these, as well as other birds, suffered much
from its inclemencies. I have heard that a Red-tailed Hawk
was seen on the public highway, scratching and gleaning a
scanty meal, from among the droppings of the horses, and on
the approach of a sleigh with bells, merely avoided it, by
flying on the fence by the road side, not more than twenty
feet from the passengers, and resumed its former occupation
so soon as the sleigh had passed.

The young of the Red-tailed Hawk are very noisy when
confined to their nests, keeping up an incessant clamor. They
are protected and fed by both parents, until they have at-
tained an age sufficient to shift for themselves, when not
only they are forsaken by the parents, but a complete sepa-
ration of each member of the family takes place, and each
becomes selfish and shy towards the other, as though there
never existed affuiity between them.

The Red-tailed Hawk commences building its nest in Fe-
bruary, generally on some tall tree, in an unfrequented
wood, which consists of sticks and coarse grass. I do not re-
collect of ever having seen but two: one was on the north-
ern range of hills which bounds the great valley of Chester
county, and the other, in an extensive pine wood, in Jersey.
The eggs are commonly four or five in number, of a dirty
white and spotted with a dark brown colour; and the fol-
lowing description, by Wilson, so perfectly agrees with the
specimen from which our drawing is made, that I have in-
serted it at length.

" The Red-tailed Hawk is twenty inches long, and three
feet nine inches in extent; bill blue black; cere and sides of
the mouth yellow, tinged with green; lores and spot on the
under eye-lid white, the former marked with fine radiating
hairs; eye-brow, or cartilage, a dull eel-skin colour, promi-
nent, projecting over the eye; a broad streak of dark brown
extends from the sides of the mouth backwards; crown and
hind-head dark brown, seamed with white and ferruginous;
sides of the neck dull ferruginous, streaked with brown;
eye large; iris pale amber; back and shoulders deep brown;
wings dusky, barred with blackish; ends of the five first
primaries nearly black; scapularies barred broadly with
white and brown; sides of the tail-coverts white, barred
with ferruginous, middle ones dark, edged with rust; tail
rounded, extending two inches beyond the wings, and of a
bright red brown, with a single band of black near the end,
and tipped with brownish white; on some of the lateral
feathers are slight indications of the remains of other nar-
row bars; lower parts brownish white; the breast ferrugi-
nous, streaked with dark brown; across the belly a band of

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

231

interrupted spots of brown; skin white; femorals and vent
pale brownish white, the former marked with a few minute
heart-shaped spots of brown; legs yellow, feathered half way
below the knees."

The male differs from the female in being somewhat
smaller and having more brightness of colour throughout
its plumage, and a more strongly defined black band across
the tail.

We are indebted to the Philadelphia Museum for the use
of the beautiful bird from which our drawing is made. It
was alive and kept by Mr. T. R. Peale for some time, and
afterwards most beautifully prepared by him. I. D.

AMERICAN SPARROW HAWK.

FALCO SPARVERIUS.

[Plate XX. Female.]

Falco Sparverhts. Linn. Syst. ed. 10, p. 90. Gmel. Syst.
1, p. 2S4. Ind. Orn. p. 42.— Emerillon de St. Bomin-
gue, Buff. 1, 291. PI. enl. 465. Arct. Zool. 212.— Lit-
tle Falcon, Lath. Syn. V. 1, p. 114, No. 94, ib. 95. —
Little Hawk, Arct. Zool. 211, No. \\Q.— Emerillon
de Cayenne, Buff. 1, 291. PI. enl. No. 444.—/^. Do-
minicensis, Gmel. Syst. 1, p. 285. — Little Hawk,
Catesbt, 1, p. 5. — U Emerillon dela Caroline, Briss.
Orn. 1, p. SS6. — Tinmincz/lus Sparveriiis, Vieil Ois.
de I'Am. Sept. p. 12, 13. — J. Doughty's Collection.

" In no department of ornithology has there been greater
confusion, or more mistakes made, than among this class of
birds of prey. The great difference of size between the
male and female, the progressive variation of plumage to
which, for several years, they are subject, and the difficulty
of procuring a sufficient number of specimens for examina-
tion; all these causes conspire to lead the naturalist into al-
most unavoidable mistakes. According to fashionable eti-
quette the honour of precedence, in the present instance, is
given to the fe?nale of this species; both because she is the
most courageous, the largest, and the handsomest of the two,
best ascertained, and less subject to change of colour than
the male.

" This bird is a constant resident in almost every part of
the United States, particularly in the States north of Mary-
land. In the southern States there is a smaller species found,
which is destitute of the black spots on the head; the legs
are long and very slender, and the wings light blue. This

has been supposed, by some, to be the male of the present
species: but this is an error. The eye of the present spe-
cies is dusky; that of the smaller species a brilliant orange;
the former has the tail rounded at the end, the latter slightly
forked. Such essential differences never take place between
two individuals of the same species. It ought, however, to
be remarked, that in all the figures and descriptions I have
hitherto met with of the bird now before us, the iris is re-
presented of a bright golden colour; but in all the specimens
I have shot I uniformly found the eye very dark, almost
black, resembling a globe of black glass. No doubt the
golden colour of the iris would give the figure of the bird
a more striking appearance; but in works of natural history
to sacrifice truth to mere picturesque effect, is detestable;
though, I fear, but too often put in practice.

" The nest of this species is usually built in a hollow tree;
generally pretty high up, where the top or a large limb has
been broken off. I have never seen its eggs; but have been
told that the female generally lays four or five, which are of
a light brownish yellow colour, spotted with a darker tint;
the young are fed on grasshoppers, mice, and small birds,
the usual food of the parents.

" The habits and manners of this bird are well known.
It flies rather irregularl)-, occasionally suspending itself in
the air, hovering over a particular spot for a minute or two,
and then shooting off in another direction. It perches on
the top of a dead tree, or pole in the middle of a field or
meadow, and as it alights shuts its long wings so suddenly
that they seem instantly to disappear; it sits here in an al-
most perpendicular position, sometimes for an hour at a time,
frequently jerking its tail, and reconnoitering the ground
below, in every direction, for mice, lizards, &c. It ap-
proaches the farm-house, particularly in the morning, skulk-
ing about the barn-yard for mice or young chickens. It
frequently plunges into a thicket after small birds, as if by
random; but always with a particular, and generally a fatal,
aim. One day I observed a bird of this species perched on
the highest top of a large poplar, on the skirts of the wood;
and was in the act of raising the gun to my eye when he
swept down with the rapidity of an arrow into a thicket of
briars about thirty }-ards off, where I shot him dead; and
on coming up found a small field sparrow quivering in his
grasp. Both our aims had been taken in the same instant,
and, unfortunately for him, both were fatal. It is particu-
larly fond of watching along hedge-rows, and in orchards,
where those small birds, usually resort. When grass-
hoppers are plenty, they form a considerable part of its
food.

"Though small snakes, mice, lizards, &c. be favourite
morsels with this active bird; yet we are not to suppose it
altogether destitute of delicacy in feeding. It will seldom

or never eat of any thing that it has not itself killed, and
even that, if not (as epicures would term it) in good eating
order, is sometimes rejected. A very respectable friend,
through the medium of Mr. Barlrant, informs me, that one
morning he observed one of these Hawks dart down on the
ground, and seize a mouse, which he carried to a fence post;
wliere, after examining it for some time, he left it; and a
little while after, pounced upon another mouse, which he
instantly carried off to his nest, in the hollow of a tree hard
by. The gentleman, anxious to know why the Hawk had
rejected the first mouse, went up to it, and foimd it to be
almost covered with lice, and greatly emaciated! Here was
not only delicacy of taste, but sound and prudent reason-
ing.— " If I carry this to my nest," thought he, "it will
fill it with vermin, and hardly be worth eating."

" The Blue Jays have a particular antipathy to this bird,
and frequently insult it by following and imitating its notes
so exactly as to deceive even those well acquainted with
both. In return for all this abuse the Hawk contents him-
self with, now and then, feasting on the plumpest of his
persecutors; who are therefore in perpetual dread of him;
and yet, through some strange infatuation, or from fear that
if they lose sight of him he may attack them unawares, the
Sparrow Hawk no sooner appears than the alarm is given,
and the whole posse of Jays follow.

" The female of this species, which is here faithfully re-
presented from a very beautiful specimen, is eleven inclies
long, and twenty-three from tip to tip of the expanded
wings. The cere and legs are yellow; bill blue, tipped with
black; space round the eye greenish blue; iris deep dusky;
head bluish ash; crown rufous; seven spots of black, on a
white ground, surround the head in the manner represented
in the figure; whole upper parts reddish bay, transversely
streaked with black; primary and secondary quills black,
spotted on their inner vanes with brownish white; whole
lower parts j'ellowish white, marked with longitudinal
streaks of brown, except the chin, vent, and femoral feathers,
which are white; claws black.

" The character of the male corresponds with that of the
female. I have reason, however, to believe, that these
birds vary considerably in the colour and markings of their
plumage during the first and second years, having met with
specimens every way corresponding with the above, except
in the breast, which was a plain rufous white, without spots;
the markings on the tail also diflering a little in dili'erent
specimens. These I uniformly found on dissection to be
males; from the stomach of one of which I took a conside-
rable part of the carcass of a Robin f Tardus Jiiigratorius)
including the unbroken feet and claws; though the Robin
actually measures within half an inch as long as the Sparrow
Hawk."

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

AN ATTEMPT AT DOMESTICATING

THE PARTRIDGE, OR QUAIL.

PERDIX VIRGINMNUS.

My Dear Sir,

You have had the kindness to ssnd me the numbers of the
" Cabinet of Natural History," as far as they have been pub-
lished; and, I assure you, their contents have amused and
instructed me. The Editors appear to have studied, where
ever}' lover of Nature delights to study, in the fields and the
forests; and I feel so desirous of their success in exciting,
among the community, a greater fondness for the study of
Natural History, than has heretofore been exhibited, that I
have ventured to look over a hasty and imperfect diary, in
which I have occasionally noted down any circumstance in
relation to that fascinating science, that appeared new to me,
with the intention of sending one or two communications
to you; and if you, or the Editors, should deem them suf-
ficiently interesting for the " Cabinet," they are at your
service. You have, however, reminded me of an experi-
ment, which has, for a year past, been progressing almost
under 3'our eye; and as I cannot, at this moment, recollect
any thing upon the subject of Natural History, which inte-
rests me more than this, I proceed to communicate it, giv-
ing your name as a voucher for the accuracy of mj' state-
ments.

Having been informed, that the Partridge of the southern
States (one of the most interesting game birds of the country)
had been sometimes reared by the common hen, and had
remained half-domesticated until by accident it was lost, or
through neglect suffered to stray away, I made several at-
tempts to domesticate it. Upon two occasions I procured
eggs, and had them hatched without difficulty, under a com-
mon hen; but when they were about half grown, I removed
from the city, and continued absent during the summer;
upon my return in autumn, I found that my servants, clas.s-
ing them with the unproductive and troublesome append-
ages of the establishment, had neglected them, and they had
disappeared.

The last year, (1S30,) however, I resolved to try the ex-
periment again; and I am about to acquaint you with the re-
sult. I found greater difficulty in procuring the eggs than
I had anticipated; but on the 25th of May, a friend sent me
sixteen from the country, and upon the same day they were
placed under a Bantam hen, which, upon the evening of the
twenty-sixth day's sitting, hatched fifteen of them; but to
my great surprise, she commenced swallowing those which
were not yet dry, and before I had arranged a suitable place
for herself and the little brood, she had devoured all but

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

233

seven. This vicious propensity I can only account for by
the circumstance, that the servants were in the habit of care-
lessly throwing dead chickens into the yard, which had
given the poultry a taste for meat. Be this as it may, I was
mortified in seeing one half of the brood thus greedily
swallowed by their unnatural stepmother. The seven that
remained were removed from the hen till the next morning,
when they were put into a box, five feet by two, and the
hen once more placed near them. She from that moment
seemed to regard them as her own, and evinced extreme
affection for them. The box was railed across the top, and
divided into two apartments by rails within ; so that, if
any delicacies were given to the young, the hen could not
reach them. They were fed on alum-curds and corn-grist,
and I soon discovered that they would eat any food, such as
is usually thrown out to young chickens. At first they
were wild; but, by being kept in a place where the servants
were constantly passing and repassing, they became tolera-
bly tame, and, after three weeks, were suffered to run about
the flower-garden, which contains a quantity of shrubbery,
and is ninety feet long by seventy broad, with a fence tight
near the ground.

To guard against their flying away, I took off the first
joint from a wing of each, which operation did not seem to
give them much pain, nor did it in any measure retard their
growth. In the autumn they moulted their feathers, and
continued free from disease, and have always been very
healthy.

An unlucky cat, from the neighbourhood, conceived a
fancy for my birds, and carried off one; and I was necessi-
tated to set box-traps, in which several of these enemies of
the feathered race were caught, and, by the consent of their
owners, were sent upon their travels.

When the Partridges had obtained their full growth they
became very interesting, following me about the garden and
the house, and running up to me at the moment I called
them: this familiarity cost the life of another, for, in follow-
ing me into an upper piazza, it attempted to fly into the gar-
den, and was killed by the fall. Two only of the remaining
five were females, and I was obliged to commence my ex-
periment on rather a smaller scale.

Sometime in March, my ears were greeted with the sound
of " Bob White," at first low, but it increased in fulness of
tone. The other males soon followed, and, in a few days,
the whistle that charmed me so much in boyhood, and de-
lights me still, was heard from morning till night These
birds were reared far removed from others, having listened
to no softer notes than those emitted by ducks and geese;
nevertheless, they uttered the song of their species: a proof
that it is natural, and requires no art to teach it to
them. They soon began to pair off, and look out for nests,
3N

and some bloody battles were fought by the males. For the
preservation of peace, I removed one of them into an aviary,
where a couple of wild females of his kind were kept, but
to which he has never become fairly reconciled, and he still
seems to sigh for his old haunts. I placed two boxes in a
sheltered situation within my garden, with a small quantity
of hay in and about them, in hopes that the birds might find
them suited to their purposes. I discovered that one of the
boxes had attracted them, and, in a few days, a rery com-
pact little nest had been built. Upon the 2Sth of May, the
first egg was laid in the nest, and, after this, an egg was
added almost every day. About eight days ago, the second
hen began to lay in the same nest, verifying what I had
long suspected, that more than one female occasionally lay
in the same nest, as I have once seen twenty-eight eggs, and
at another time thirty-one, in a nest in the fields; and I once
received from a friend a few eggs, that were found in the
nest of a guinea-fowl. They have now (June 23d) laid
eighteen eggs, a part of which I have placed under a Ban-
tam hen, and a few remain upon which I intend one of the
birds to set. The other I think will begin laying again,
after her eggs have been taken from her; as in this climate
they raise two broods, and when, by some accident, their
eggs are destroyed, they lay several times during a summer.
I have examined by the light of a lamp, (according to my
usual custom) whether the eggs which were placed under a
hen are impregnated, and find that they are likely to pro-
duce young; and, therefore, I conclude that my experiment
will eventuate successfully: I commenced it with the eggs,
and brought the birds through all tlie stages until they have
produced eggs.

Whether birds of this species will ever be raised to any
extent is doubtful, as it will only be attempted by those who
are curious in such matters; but my experiment shows that
it can be done without much trouble. I find them, also,
very amusing pets, they come regularly to be fed, and seem,
when neglected, to have a method of making me understand
that they are hungry. The males are very resolute, and
like the quails used in the cockpits of the ancients, are fear-
less pugnacious fellows, and attack the pigeons and poultry,
and are sure to follow and pick at every foot that approaches
their nest.

I have some farther anecdotes of these interesting birds,
but am admonished, that, whilst I am amusing myself with
the relation of experiments which have been very interest-
ing to me, they may be less so to others.

Yours, with great esteem,

L. J. Salaignac, esq.

A Lover of Natural Histort.
Charleston, S. C. June 33, 1S31.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

r

AN INTERESTING MODE OF FINDING WILD BEES.

Among the vast multitudes of insects that cover the earth,
there are none which attract the attention, or excite the ad-
miration of mankind, so much as the Honey Bees. These
familiar and interesting insects are the constant attendants
on man, and, in the newly settled parts of our country, are
among the first visitors to welcome the migrating husband-
man to the uncultivated forest.

I have always been a lover of nature; inanimate and ani-
mate. In the former, I have often in the mountain wilds,
found a solace from the perplexities of life, while contem-
plating the undisturbed serenity of the wilderness around
me; and the latter has aflbrded me a thousand recreative and
physical enjoyments, when nature required invigoration, or
the monotony of a country, and in a measure solitary, life.
Variety, and the subjects of the present notice, were not
among the least to afibrd amusement and innocent pastime,
as well as considerable profit.

On my native, fertile, and flower-bearing hills have I
spent many days during the season of youth, in studying
the habits, and searching for the hives, of the Wild Honey
Bees. These abound, in great quantities, in most of our
northern and western forests; but it requires system and
skill to discover them.

I know of no amusement surpassing the pursuit of Wild
Bees: it affords recreation without fatigue; relief and diver-
sion to the mind, and the quantity of honey frequently pro-
cured during these excursions is almost incredible. The

scenery which you must necessarily enter is of the most ro-
mantic kind, and being elevated frequently on some moun-
tain summit, you enjoy a free, uncontaminated circulation
of air, which invigorates the body, and gives buoyancy to
the mind.

Having never seen the manner of finding Wild Bees de-
scribed, I thought (as it may be considered among the pas-
times of our country) an account of it might be interesting
to the readers of your work.

In this pursuit I always provided myself with a tin box,
about five inches in diameter, and of sufficient depth to
contain a honeycomb, without mashing it when the lid was
put on, a glass tumbler, and a forked stick, about five feet
long; this stick should contain three prongs, in order to set
the tin box in it secure, and the opposite end should be
sharpened for the purpose of sticking in the ground. I then
filled the comb with honey, and went either to a buckwheat
field, or to some wild flowers, until I found a Bee, and so
soon as this was the case, I made it prisoner, by placing the
tumbler over the Bee and flower, and then, by closing the
mouth of the tumbler with the palm of my hand, the Bee
would leave the flower and fly upwards against the bottom
of the tumbler, and try to escape. There is never danger
of being stung unless you hurt the Bee, in which case it
will most assuredly revenge itself. Being thus provided, I
sought an open spot in the wood to commence my opera-
tions; this was done by fixing the forked stick firmly in the
ground, and placing the tin box containing the honey in the
fork; I next put the tumbler with the Bee immediately on

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

the honey, and then darkened the whole concern by placing
my hat over it. So soon as by this means the light would
come to the Bee from below, it would descend to the honey,
and commence filling itself. This was an important thing
to observe, and which could be easily done by gently rais-
ing the hat a short distance. When I supposed the Bee was
partly filled, I took suddenly away both hat and tumbler,
and this transit from darkness to light would make it fly im-
mediately. The manner of flight from the dish of honey
is always spirally, rising higher and higher, until by its re-
peated circles, the proper height in the air is attained, when
it directs a perfectly straight course to the hive to which it
belongs.

The ground which I selected was generally so unobstruct-
ed by the branches of trees, that I could discern the flight
of the Bee for one or two hundred yards. The time chosen
was on a perfectly still and clear day, as, on a dark or windy
day, the flight of the Bees would not only be very indirect,
but the distance of seeing them so short as to prevent suc-
cess in finding their hives.

The flight of a Bee is never varied when passing to its
hive, unless to avoid some obstacle. Indeed, so very direct
is its course, that among those in my neighbourhood who
are acquainted with this circumstance, it is a proverb, when
an analogous thing is to be exemplified, to say that " it goes
as straight as a Bee." However, when a tree intervenes,
instead of passing through its branches, instinct points out
to the Bee, the danger it is often subject to of being caught
by the various fly-catching birds which may be sitting on
the limbs of the tree, which it will always avoid by a con-
siderable circular flight, or by passing beneath or above the
tops of the trees.

The distance of the hive from me I could calculate to a
very great certainty, by the time which elapsed between
tlie departure from, and return of, the Bee to the dish, al-
lowing, as experience had taught me, from three to four
minutes per mile; one and a half, minute for it to carry its
burden to the hive, one or two minutes to deposit its honey,
(according to the depth of the hole in the tree into which it
had to crawl,) and one minute to return unencumbered. In
this manner I have succeeded in finding hives at a distance
of several miles from my starting place.

On the return of the Bee to the dish, its flight was
marked by the same spiral movements, until it would again
settle in the honey. This Bee, in every instance, was ac-
companied by other Bees, which, having discovered the
spoils it brought to the hive, would follow it, to partake of
the -same treasure; and, the shorter the distance to the hive,
the greater would be the number of visitants to the dish.
This was another sure guide for me to judge of the distance.
When a number settled on the honey, I caught and confined

them in the tumbler, by tying it with them in my handker-
chief. Having marked the course of the first Bee, I then
carried my various articles in that direction, (which I was
always able to ascertain to a considerable distance by means
of a pocket compass,) perhaps for half a mile, or more or
less, as I judged the distance to the tree I was in search of,
and, making the same preparations as at first, I placed the
tumbler of Bees again on the honey, and sufiered them,
under cover of my hat, to begin to fill themselves, when I
would let them off, by taking away the hat and tumbler as
before. This plan I repeated as often as was necessary to
bring me to the foot of the tree which contained the swarm
of Bees. As I approached the spot, the Bees would con-
gregate in greater numbers about the dish: the party flying
from the plate always returning with recruits.

I never sufiered my prisoner Bees to fill themselves to
surfeit, as, in this case, my efforts would have been useless,
for these Bees would never have returned again.

The description of trees on which I usually found these
hives were the white pine and hemlock, and the entrance
for the swarm mostly was a small hole, situated, generally,
high in the trunk, * in which case it was difficult to discover
it; but when situated nearer the earth, the ingress and egress
of the Bees would be plainly seen, on the first approach to
the tree. It frequently happened, that, owing to the very
great height of the hives, I had to resort to a variation in
my mode of finding them, and this would be by marking
the suspected tree with an axe, and then, with my honey,
tumbler, and prisoner Bees, I would take a side position of
several hundred yards from the tree which I had marked
with my axe, and from this position, start some Bees,
in order to get a cross line, or form a right angle by their
flight, and, having watched the course of the Bees, I marked
this line until it crossed the first line, at which spot I inva-
riably found the swarm, and, not unfrequently, in the iden-
tical tree that I had marked.

It sometimes happened that I would pass the tree contain-
ing the swarm, in which case the Bees let off would not re-
turn to my dish; and I had then to resort to the expedient
of making a fire and heating some stones, on vyhich I placed
some honeycomb, until a considerable smoke was produced;
the fumes ascending would attract the notice of the Bees,
and would bring them in numbers to the spot. I then placed

* As there are more animals beside man wliieh are fond of sweet things,
the Bees seem to be aware of the number and voracity of tlieir enemies,
hence the reason of their choosing large trees and small holes as entrances
for their hives, in order to keep out intruders from their honey. Foxes and
Bears are among tlieir most formidable enemies, and while the former, with
all tlicir cunning, fail frequently in obtaining this mellifluous plunder, the
latter, by boldness, ability to climb, and the impervious nature of their skin
to the weapons of the Bees, seldom fail to secure honey from hives, of which
they are immoderately fond.

236

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

the dish within their reach, and not only obtained the pre-
cise course to this hive, but have frequently made prisoners
of Bees, drawn from other, and more distant hives. The
members of the two communities could be easily disiinguish-
ed, as, the moment one approached the other, a battle be-
tween them VN'ould immediately ensue.

When a hive was favourably situated, on a moderate size
tree, I would prefer climbing to the spot, and thrust in a
lighted match of brimstone, and disable the Bees, until I
thought I could take the honey with safety. I would then
cut a hole beside the hive and take the honey away, and
having provided a small line and a bucket, would lower it
down by degrees, until all was accomplished. In this way,
I have not unfrequently obtained from one hundred and fifty
to two hundred pounds of honey from a single hive.

When the trees were large, and the hive at a great dis-
tance from the ground, the only plan to obtain the honey
was to cut down the tree; and, although this is the easiest
plan, yet it ought not to be adopted, unless the other fails,
as, should the tree be very hollow, it will break in its fall,
and most of the honey would be lost. It is also attended
with danger, because the anxiety to secure the honey before
it runs away, will cause many persons to run immediately
to the hive, and they are often punished most severely by
the Bees, which swarm on the outside at first to ascertain
the cause of their disturbance, but soon return again into
the hole, when they can be destroyed by means of sulphur,
and their honey taken. T. M. H.

CHARACTERISTICS OF A TRUE SPORTSMAN.

A TRUE Sportsman always respects the rules and seasons
for shooting, and most heartil)- despises the man who de-
stroys the unfledged brood, or the protectors which Nature
has provided for them.

He is provided with every article necessary for his excur-
sions, without borrowing from his neighbour, or eternally
boring his friends for their guns, dogs, or horses.

In his general exterior, he appears neat, clean, and pro-
perly accoutred. His dogs are mannerly, because, by dis-
cipline, they are restrained to proper limits, and, when he
visits a distant friend, these dogs avoid running into parlours,
chambers, or stealing viands from the kitchen fire. They
hunt properl}', and require no noise, because he has in-
structed them in the fundamental principles of hunting.

lie neither curses at, nor abuses his dogs, but, when ne-
cessary, chastises them in cool blood, because good breeding
has taught him the fallacy of swearing at a dumb brute; or
venting his passion on another, when the fault too commonly
springs from other sources.

To his dogs he is merciful and provident; he consults
their comfort, and, if he will draw recreation from their
services, he repays them by humanity.

In the field, his demeanour is correct, and free from im-
petuosity; deliberation marks all his actions, and his expe-
rience is never chargeable with carelessness, or danger, to
his companions; to the more inexperienced who accompany
him; he is kind, and willing to confer knowledge; to con-
tribute to their pleasure by giving many opportunities to
shoot, without greedily embracing them himself, for the
sake of bagging game. When the dogs point, he does not
rush up to the game before his companions are near, and
take the first, and, perhaps, the only chance of shooting.
If a bird is killed in a joint shot, with a companion, he is
cautious not to claim it, but will yield it with pleasure, ra-
ther than excite unpleasant feelings, or engender strife.

He is satisfied with a moderate quantity of game, and is
not ambitious to destroy life, for the sake of making a parade
of his success; and, when asked, he gives a faithful account
of the number killed, and is unwilling to reap the name of
a good shot, or g}'eat Sportsman, at the expense of truth,
by exaggerating his difficulties, or the account of game
killed, to double of what is the reality.

Although lively and communicative in company with
other Sportsmen, he does not boast of his actions, nor his
ability to excel his neighbour; neither does he brag of his
exploits, nor undervalue his friend's adeptness, for the pur-
pose of enhancing his own good name. He hears the abili-
ties of others praised without envy, or ridiculing their ex-
ploits, or offering a bet, (accompanied by an oath,) that him-
self is superior. The consciousness of his own qualifications
does not make him vain and boastful; he is liberal to those
he employs, and a stranger to meanness of principle and ac-
tion; he avoids injury to the farmer's crops, and never adds
insult where injury has been unavoidably caused by him or
his dogs.

He will not waste time or life, by shooting useless birds,

merely to gratify vanity, by showing how well he can shoot.

If he drinks spirituous liquors during his excursions, he

does it moderately, so that he may, by its inebriating effects,

neither endanger his friends, nor disgrace their company.

Should he borrow from his friend a dog or gun, he will
not send the one home in a starving condition, nor the other
broken, dirty, and unfit for use.

If he makes an appointment, he is strict to accomplish
it, and does not waste his time in bed hours after the period
to meet his companion has elapsed.

Unless a man is more or less governed by the above, he
cannot lay claim to those princij)les which constitute a cor-
rect Sportsman.

D.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

ON THE VICIOUS HABITS AND PROPENSITIES OF HORSES.
Br Thomas R. Yare,

(Continued from page 216.)

CRIB BITING.

I have occasionally excited the ire of grooms, by re-
questinsi; them to abandon the practice of using the rack-
cJiain. These gentlemen, when interrogated as to the utility
of attaching the head to the rack, usually answer, " To pre-
vent the horse lying down, and dirtying his quarters!"
But the true reason is, they are fearful of a little extra
ti-ouble, in case the animal should be wanted at a short
notice. When I have inquired if the horse was habituated
to lying down in the day-time, or whether he has been ever
known so to do, the response given is usually, "No; we
never actually saw him down during the day, but we have
always been accustomed to tie him up." Therefore, ac-
cording to their own showing, they give the poor beast
this unnecessary restraint from no other cause but custom,
which they blindly and implicitly follow, though they can
adduce no benefit resulting from its observance. Custom
and prejudice are most imperious tyrants, and rule triumph-
ant over horsemen, as well as other classes of society.
There are certain points established, certain axioms laid
down, and the nine people out of ten, who never think for
themselves, take every thing upon credit, and implicitly
fall into the regulated course of opinion generally held,
without stopping to inquire whether it happens to be just
or unjust, tolerably right, or entirely wrong.

If the^ horse be addicted to lying down in the day-time, I
have generally found, on inspection, that he is either sick or
lame, and consequently required immediate attention. Now,
to tie horses to the rack under such circumstances, is obvi-
ously an act of cruelty. In my opinion, to attach any
horse to the rack, only serves to pave the way for the oc-
curence of those habits and vices which have for so many
years baffled the attempts of horsemen to prevent, correct,
and eradicate with certainty and permanency.

^lany continue pertinaciously to assert that crib-biting is
not injurious to the strength of horses. I am free to admit
that they sometimes go through very arduous tasks and fleet
performances, and may probably occasionally win a race ;
but capability of exertion would be still more evident, and
the rapidity of his course insreased, if the malady were re-
moved. But no positive reliance can be placed in the exer-
tions of a crib-biter or wind-sucker; for thenatural power and
ability of the animal must inevitably be weakened, and ul-
timately yield altogether to the ravages the indulgence of
these propensities occasion on the frame of the animal, if
prosecuted for any length of time.
30

A horse may be addicted to cribbing, and yet its pernici-
ous effects shall not be perceptible, except to those who are
thoroughly acquainted with the smyptoms incidental to, and
which uniformly accompany, the practice of the habit. I
have known many horses labouring under this nialad}',
whose condition appeared so good to the casual observer, that
theirownershavedoubted my allegations astotheirweakness;
but a little extra exertion, in company with a sound horse
of apparently equal power and capabilitj', soon convinced
the party of their error — the strength of the crib-biter, after
a short trial, proving very inferior to that of his opponent.
I know well that horses indulging in the propensity must of
necessity be injured or impaired in their stamina. Acting
upon this calculation, when attending races, and accidentally
discovering that any particular horse was either a crib-biter
or wind-sucker, although he might be a " favorite," to use
a turf phrase, " I uniformly back him to lose, and am gene-
rally right."

I have no hesitation in saying that a crib-biter is bona fide
an unsound horse; and, notwithstanding the warring litiga-
tions that may have occurred occasionally in consequence of
the habit, when a totally opposite notion to mine has been
entertained on the question, yet I cannot avoid arraying my
individual opinion in opposition to the fearful host of dissen-
tients who may start up against me, when my assertion is
perused. I verily believe that a crib-biter, sold ivith a
warranty of soundness, is, to all intents and pui-poses, ,
returnable: and I think I cannot be accounted unfair or er-
roneous in this position, founded on the well-ascertained
fact, that "crib-biting horses are injured in their stamina."

That Nestor among veterinarians, Mr. Bracy Clark — to
whom the horse is so greatly indebted, not only for his val-
uable publications, but likewise for the discovery of many
parts and properties of the foot of the horse, and above all
his perfection of the expansion shoe — observes very truly
in his remarks on this subject, that "the crib-biting horse
has generally a lean, constricted appearance, the skin being
contracted about the ribs; or a sunken, watery eye, or else
too dry; the muscles of the face also, as well as the skin,
drawn up Avith rigidness. When unemployed in eating,
his almost constant amusement is to grasp the rail of the
manger with his front teeth, then to draw himself up to it,
as to a fixed point, by a general contraction of tlie head,
neck, and trunk; at the same time the effort is attended witii
a grunting sound."

Now, many veterinary surgeons are of opinion that the
particular noise made by the horse is caused by the expul-
sion of air, and that crib-biting is in fact nothing more than
an effort at eructation, arising from indigestion or some
viscid state of the stomach; whilst others pretend to say,
that the habit is caused from pain in the feet. If either of

238

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

these opinions were correct, to remove this destructive pro-
pensity, recourse must necessarily be had to the Materia
Medica, and the animal should be treated according to the
rules of veterinary science. That these judgments must be
erroneous, I prove clearly by the system I have established,
which enables me to eradicate crib-biting and wind-sucking
without the aid of medicine.

My attention, as I have before stated, has been directed
to the prevention and cure of this destructive malady during
a long period; and although I may dissent from many very
respectable authorities, I must remark, that, during the
whole course of my experience, I have uniformly observed
that a crib-biter (as well as wind-sucker) inhales air into
the stomach, which, from its construction, he cannot exhale
or degurgitate; for horses, unlike dogs and many other ani-
mals, can neither belch nor vomit, consequently in its pro-
gress through the stomach and bowels, the oxygen, or elas-
tic property of the air, is taken up by the system, which
causes a redundancy of fixed air in the abdominal parts —
hence arises flatulency, which of course produces indiges-
tion, general debility, and an impaired stamina; and these
alarming effects, if not attended to and removed, must na-
turally lead to disorders of dangerous tendencies.

To broach an opinion of this import is, I know, in oppo-
sition to the sentiments entertained by many hippologists;
and that I may be clearly understood by every reader, I
have purposely avoided the use of scientific words or tech-
nical phraseology, and expressed my meaning in plain un-
assuming language.

Others, however, of acknowledged skill and ability in
their profession have lately had the liberality to confess,
that, on mature consideration of the subject, they considered
I was correct, and encouraged me to proceed in my course.
With much labour, patience, and perseverance, I aimed
at the discovery of the proximate cause of crib-biting.
My studies have been practical, for I could meet with no
satisfactory information in books. I made experiments of
various kinds, repeated and improved them, and thus ap-
proached nearer to my object, till at length I had the plea-
sure of perceiving that I was in the right track.

That the crib-biter inhales more air into the stomach than
he can exhale, I am convinced; and on that conviction have
founded my system for the treatment of the malady; the ap-
plication of which I may assert without presumption, cannot
fail of success, if attended to with sincerity and good will
on the part of grooms and other stable domectics.

A crib-biter of any standing becomes soured in temper;
his natural strength soon gives way; weakness more or less
ensues; and he is rendered unfit for a proper day's work:
yet horses labouring under the effects of this propensity are
expected by their proprietors to perform the most violent

exertions, and the fleetest and most rapid efforts are requir-
ed of them! Hunting, racing, in short every duty is im-
posed indiscriminately with sound animals, till the poor
beast sinks prematurely under his accumulated misery, and
is thus rendered unserviceable many years before his natu-
ral term. Under kind and judicious treatment, the horse
would be much longer lived than is generally supposed, as
existing facts testify.

Various remedies, purporting to be infallible, for vicious
horses have of late years been put forth to the world, but
nothing has in reality been gained by them. I allude to tor-
turing straps, bands, and othervexatious applications, which
only tend to sour the disposition of the animal, and on their
removal leave him more inveterately addicted to his evil
habits. Others, from want of a better remedy, have re-
course to loathsome and nauseous experiments, which are as
futile as they are disgusting, and cannot possibly be expect-
ed to produce any permanently good effects; for as the mat-
ter or ordure employed dries and hardens, it naturally loses
its effluvia, and consequently requires repetition to make the
process adopted effectual, even if it were proper to pursue it
An accumulation of filth on the manger is the result; and
we all know that that utensil should be kept particularly
clean. I have no patience when I reflect on such proceed-
ings. It is obvious to any one conversant with horses, that
a filthy stable is the forerunner of disease. The only conse-
quence emanating from conduct so inconsiderately ignorant
is, that the silly attendant, for his own convenience, is soon
compelled to remove the dirt, gaining nothing but addition-
al labour for his assumed sagacity.

He who pretends to correct the horse, by inventing appa-
ratus with that view, should previously study the nature and
character of the animal, in addition to the contemplation of
his own emolument. To exemplify this observation, let us
consider for a moment the fate of the straps with the spring
and spikes. They were introduced under the protection of
weighty patronage; and all that influence could do was
adopted to facilitate their reception in the highest quarters,
and render their adoption general. They were predomi-
nant for a time, and were probably esteemed by persons
unacquainted with the matter, who received the ipse dixit
of others as truth "sacred as Holy Writ;" and accordingly
the straps were considered and recommended by many per-
sons as a certain cure for crib-biters. However, when es-
sayed by those whose knowledge and intelligence could
be relied on, it was discovered that they could never fulfil
the object promised to purchasers, and not the most distant
prospect of efficacy could be entertained. Their application
only served to alarm, irritate, and tease the horse, without
producing any beneficial effects; and on their removal, he
was generally found as inveterately addicted to his propen-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

sity as ever. A horse will never become tractable under
fear, which is soon excited, as his timidity is proverbial.
What is rational can only be attained by rational ways; and
in nature an object cannot be compassed but by means con-
sistent with nature. The straps were invented without any
adherence to this maxim; hence their inutility and conse-
quent downfall.

Covering the top of the manger with a sheep-skin, the
woolly side outwards, is a remedy still in vogue amongst
persons who act and move upon second-hand information.
This insignificant process continues a favorite, and is very
sagely recommended as a preventive in many of the provin-
ces. I have more than once seen it used as a precaution,
and in London too, above all places!

The execrable and infamous custom of burning the palate
of the mouth as an antidote to crib-biting, cannot be too
strongly reprobated, and must not be passed over in silence:
but, without stopping to descant on the cruelty of this prac-
tice, I have merely to observe that the proselytes to it have
gained very little by their barbarity; as the horse is only
checked so long as the soreness and tenderness caused by the
cauterising exist, and no sooner has the pain subsided than
he recommences operations. Should a gentleman discover
the wound, the inflictors, ashamed of their proceedings, take
special care not to divulge the real cause, but quibble and
prevaricate, till at length I have known them hit upon the
expedient of informing an inquirer that the poor thing had
been seared for the lampas, evincing by the subterfuge as
much ignorance as they possess want of feeling!

Althougli a digression, I cannot help remarking that
burning for the lampas is a stigma to our national character,
and a disgrace to the veterinary practice. If we would only
have a little patience. Nature would in due course perform
her functions. The arrogant attempts of man to render her
precocious only aggravate the evil, by the unnecessary in-
fliction of torture on the horse. Let us allow time: Nature
will help herself without our aid, not only in this instance,
but in many others where cruelty is the order of the day.
But to proceed —

The barbarous and inhuman use of pulleys, chains, and
straps as correctives, is a mode of treatment attended with
numberless injuries to men and horses. The latter have
not unfrequently been rendered unmanageable by them, as
is proved by the numerous accidents which have occurred
solely by their application. Several preventives which I
could name are a shame to humanity: tying the tongue, the
ear, and the tail with whipcord, and many other torturing
rough-riding tricks well known to a certain class of horse-
men, are equally cruel, and not less prejudicial to the cha-
racter of the horse, as well as dangerous to the personal safe-
ty of the owner when using him. Experience teaches.

that the natural timidity of this noble animal is increased
by repeated harsh usage; so that he loses all confidence in
man, makes resistance on every occasion when approached,
and at length becomes useless, or totally unserviceable.

As I quote from memory, it cannot be expected that I
should enumerate all the cruel operations in#luded in the
nomenclature of remedies for vicious horses, which deserve
the more appropriate designation of torments. The inflic-
tions to which that generous animal is subjected, under the
mistaken notion of eradicating crib-biting or other bad ha-
bits, and rendering him more subservient to man, are shock-
ing to relate. The foremost in the rank of wickedness, and
which I shall select as a concluding elucidation of the sub-
ject of torture, are the lacerations committed on the tongue
of the poor ill-treated beast: sometimes by slitting it; on
other occasions cutting a portion of the tip completely off;
at other times dividing the nerve; and in some instances
passing a red-hot tobacco pipe, or wire of an equivalent
thickness, underneath the tongue, thereby excoriating and
blistering the most sensitive and tender part of the organ.
Pro tempore! pro mores! these are refinements in cruelty
which " out Herod Herod," and may probably startle some
of my readers: but, unfortunately, they are but too true.

But I am weary of the subject, and consider I have advan-
ced sufficient reasons to convince every person possessing a
spark of humanity, and at all interested in the welfare of do-
mestic animals, that it is high time something should be done
to relieve the sufferings, and rectify the injuries the horse has
received at our hands. If my feeble efforts to obtain redress
for him be the means of procuring in his behalf advocates
of more intelligence and influence than I can boast, I shall
deem m3'self amply compensated, and anticipate with con-
fidence a speedy alteration for the better in the present er-
roneous system of stable management.

THE CAPTIVE EAGLE.

A B.U.LAD.

Br Charles West Thomson.

An Eagle sat on the stormy peak

Of a mountain's rugged crag,
Where the winds of the winter whistled bleak

And uttered their boisterous brag.

His head was as bald as the cliff where he sat,
And his neck was as white as its snow.

And his eye was like that of the mountain cat.
When he glares on his prey below.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

On tlie scathed limb of an ancient oak,

He had taken his lofty stand,
And thence he looked down where wreaths of smoke

Gave tokens of cultured land.

And away and away did his gaze extend

O'er the ocean's waters blue,
And he heard the roar on the distant shore

Where the snow-white sea gulls flew.

He had perched his nest on that mountain's brow,

In the eye of the glorious sun,
And he looked on the face of the day-king now.

As for many long years he had done.

He had seen his eaglets thence go forth

To the chase of the hawk on the sea,
He had sailed on the icy-winged blast of the North,

And screamed as he rode it with glee.

Long years had he dwelt on that mountain height.

And sailed o'er that ocean's gloom,
When the morning was bright, or the blackness of night

Made darker the tempest's plume.

Long j'ears had he stood by that roaring flood.
And that rock was his kingdom's throne.

By the storm-rent oak his decree he spoke,
And his will was his law alone.

Even now he sat on that oak so bare,

IMajestic and proud and free,
The emblem at once, and the glorious heir

Of nature's liberty.

He sat with his noble wings outspread

For a flight o'er the sunny land,
And he launched thro' the air like an arrow that's sped

From a practised archer's hand.

Away deep down to the scene below

He flew on fearless wing,
And he paused where a waterfall turned into snow

The stream of a woodland spring.

Ah! bird of royalty ! sad for thee

To have left thy mountain height.
Where thy way was unwatched, and thy wing was free,

And none to arrest thy flight.

For the hunter has marked thy downward course.

And fixed on thee his eye —
And has lifted his gun to the noon-day sun.

And said that thou shalt die.

A flash — a roar — the Eagle rose

From the tree where his perch had been, —

And the echo that woke from the forest of oak,
Shouted loud as to chide the sin.

He soared away on his upward flight,

As he uttered a piercing cry,
But suddenly dropped, like the meteor of night

That falls in a summer sky.

With a broken wing he could no more seek

To rise in the glare of day —
So the monarch that reigned on the mountain's peak,

Was carried a captive away.

In a sumptuous cage was the Eagle placed.

And his food was served with care.
And the hunter sought to provide his taste

With all that was rich and rare.

His meat in a dainty dish was brought,

And his drink in a basin trim.
But that which he most desired and sought,

0 that was not brought to him.

Where were the woods with their scathed trees.

Where -vvas the torrent's roar,
Where was the sigh of the Northern breeze,

The surf on the wind-beat shore ?

Where were the ocean's crested waves,

Where were the flower-crowned hills.
Where were the mossy rocks and caves

Where were the chiming rills?

Where, where were the high majestic peaks,

Where the sun in his glory shined?
0 he had all these in his memories,

It was these for which he pined.

With a spirit broke, like his wounded wing,

As a flower that is nipt by the frost.
He was wearing away and withering,

For the life of his life was lost.

While the noble bird was in thraldom's tether

To soothe him was all in vain —
The mountain monarch was altogether

Unfitted for slavery's chain.

He could not endure his splendid prison

When summer was in the sky.
He could not endure when the sun had uprisen,

To watch him with captive eye.

A free breath from the mountains came o'er him again-

When rising in native pride,
He buried his talons deep, deep in his brain.

And, a martyr to liberty, died.

^?T^¥n~^

-:;^^^

AND .-AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.
CANADA PORCUPINE.

241

HYSTRIX PILOSUS.

Hystrix Pilosiis ^mericanus, Catesbt. Carol, app. p.
30. Richardson, Faun. %.1m. hor. 214. Porcupine
from Hudson's bay, Ed\vards. Cavia Hudsonius,
Klein, Quad. p. 51. Hystrix Hudsonius, Brisson,
Regn. an. p. 148. Hystrix dorsata. Lix. syst. p. 57.
Canada Porcupine, Forster, Phil. Tran. Ixii. p. 374.
Pennant, Quad. ii. p. 126. Godman, ii. 160. Bear
Porcupine, Harlan. 190. Porcupine of North Ame-
rica, CozzENS, Ann. Lyceum, Nat. Hist. i. 190.
Eretizon dorsatum, F. Cuvier, Mem. de Mus. ix. p.
431. — Philadelphia Museum.

The Porcupines belong to the genus Hystrix, Lin.,
which is characterised bj- having the clavicles imperfect,
two incisor teeth in each jaw, and four molars both above
and below on each side, these have flat crowns, surrounded
by a line of enamel, which enters into both edges, appears
to divide the tooth into two portions ; there are also small
lines of enamel radiating from the centre which are worn
down by attrition; the muzzle is thick and truncated; the
lip divided; the tongue furnished with spiny scales; the ears
short and round; the anterior feet have four toes, whilst the
posterior have five, all armed with thick nails. Cuvier,
however, divides this genus into HrsTRis, AxHETrRA,
Eretison, and Stnethera. The sub-genus Eretison,
which is founded on the subject of our present sketch, is
distinguished by the head being flat, the muzzle short and
not arched, the tail of a moderate length, the spines short
and almost hidden in the hair.

The common Porcupine, {H. crisiata) although known
from the earliest ages, has given rise to numberless fables;
among which, that commonly received, is, that it pos-
sesses the power of ejecting its quills to a considerable
distance when irritated or pursued; but although it has not
this mode of defending itself, it is by no means a contempti-
ble antagonist, as when attacked it will throw itself with
great fierceness towai-ds its opponent, and almost always
sideways, and as it is on the sides that the spines are strong-
est it often inflicts wounds by means of them; its bite is also
very severe, from the strength and size of its incisor teeth.
The use of this armature has been the subject of inquiry
among naturalists, and does not appear to be well under-
stood; the most probable idea, however, is, that, like that
of the Hedgehog, it is merely for defence, as, like that ani-
mal, it has the power of rolling itself into a ball, and thus
presenting a phalanx of spears on every side, that renders
the attacks of most animals perfectly fruitless; in fact, it has
3P

few enemies to dread except that universal destroyer — man.
Thunberg, however, attributes a most extraordinary use to
these spines: he says, he was informed that the Ceylonese
Porcupine "has a very curious method of fetching water for
its young, viz: the quills in the tail are said to be hollow,
and to have a hole at the extremity; and that the animal can
bend them in such a manner, as that they can be filled with
water, which afterwards is discharged in the nest among the
young." This account, which is as erroneous as that of
their having the power of shooting their quills, shows how
apt even naturalists are to adopt the current fables of a coun-
try on mere hearsay, and without investigation into their
verity, or even probability.

The Canada Porcupine is a very unsightly and sluggish
animal, and is not provided with the long quills so remark-
able in the last mentioned species, its armature consisting of
short sharp spines almost concealed bj" the hair with which
they are intermingled. Bufibn terms it itrson, intending,
as is observed by Dr. Richardson, to recall the memory of
Hudson, the discoverer of the country where it abounds,
and also to denote its spiny appearance, resembling that of
the Hedgehog, (herisson). As will be seen by the list of
synonymes, it has received a variety of appellations from
difierent naturalists, and as Catesby's name of pilosus was
bestowed upon it prior to that of dorsata, we have adopted
it, though the other is generally retained by authors. The
following description of it, by Dr. Richardson, is so full,
that we extract it, instead of attempting to draw out another.

^'Porm. — Body thick and clumsy, back much arched in a
regular curve from the nose to the buttocks, when it drops
more rapidly to the tail, which is very low. Legs very
short. Tail, short, thick, rounded at the tip, and turned a
little upwards. Nose flattish above, broad and abrupt
There is a narrow, naked margin round the nostrils, but
there is no smooth dividing line on the upper lip. £yes,
lateral, very small, and round. Ears situated behind and
above the auditory opening, covered as thickly with fur as
the neighouring parts, and entirely concealed by it Inci-
sors nearly as strong as those of the beaver. They curve
forward a little so as to project beyond the nose, are convex
anteriorly narrower behind, and are not much compressed.
They have a yellow colour. The crowns of the grinders,
as they wear, acquire an even surface."

'^Fur. — The upper lip covered with short hair of a dull
yellowish brown colour. The cheeks and forehead are
clothed with liver brown hair, moderately long, interspersed
with a very few black and white hairs. The hair on the
body, both above and below, is long, and of a dull liver-
brown colour, intermixed on all the upper parts, and on the
hips with still larger hairs, some of which are entirely black,
others entirely white, and a third set black at the roots and

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY.

white at tip. The white hairs are most numerous on the
posterior part of the bod}'. There are also many round,
spindle shaped, sharp pointed spines or quills, fixed among
the hair which covers the upper parts. The spines com-
mence on the crown of the head, and are there short, thick,
very sharp pointed and very numerous. There are a good
many longer and more slender ones on the shoulders and
fore part of the back. There are also many on the sides
and middle of the back, but these are still more slender and
flexible, as well as less conspicuous. The buttocks and
thighs are thickly set with long, very strong, and sharp
spines. Some of these ase entirely white, others brown at
tip. The throat and helly are covered with brown hair,
not so long as that on the back, lying more smoothly, and
unmixed with either white hairs or spines. The tail is
covered with brown hair above and below, and soiled white
hair on its margin and tip. There are many small spines
among the hair on its upper surface.

"The legs are covered with brown hairs, mixed on their
exterior surfaces with some white ones. The palms are
nearly oval or rather egg shaped, being semi-circular before,
and narrower behind. There are four very short toes on
the fore feet, which are armed with long, compressed,
curved, blackish claws, grooved underneath their whole
length. Their points are not acute. The middle or second
fore toe is rather the longest, the one on each side of it is
scarcely inferior in length, and the outer one is a little
smaller and somewhat further back. The hind soles are
oval, approaching to circular, larger than the palms, desti-
tute of hair and covered with a rough skin like shagreen.
There are five toes on the hind foot, which do not differ
much from each other in length, but their roots, and con-
sequently their extremities, are arranged in a curved line,
corresponding with that of the anterior margin of the soles.
The hind claws resemble the fore ones. The hair which
covers the upper surface of the feet, curved down by the
sides of the soles, and being worn even, as if clipped off, it
forms a thick marginal brush which considerably increases
the diameter of the soles, and fits them for walking on the
snow."

The Canada Porcupine, however, varies much in colour;
though the above is the most common, sometimes they have
been found quite white, and at others of an almost universal
dark brown. The spines or quills are attached but slightly to
the skin, and from being barbed at tip with numerous small
reversed points or prickles, they penetrate by degrees very
deep into the flesh after having been once lodged. On the
animal's being irritated, he has the power of directing their
points in every direction, and small and insignificant as
these weapons may appear, they are capable of causing the
death of dogs, wolves, or indeed of any animal that incau-

tiously attempts to seize the Porcupine. These quills are
in great request among the aborigines, v/ho use them in
great quantities in the manufacture of a number of orna-
ments, previously dying them, in a very permanent manner,
of variety of colours. As the quills are but from two to
three inches in length, it requires no slight degree of inge-
nuity and skill to form the large surfaces of embroidery with
them, so common on Indian belts and other articles of dress.
This work is performed in several ways; by passing a deli-
cate fibre of sinew through a hole previously made with an
awl, and at every stitch wrapping it with one or more turns
of the quill; when this is wound near to its end, the extrem-
ity is turned into the skin, or is concealed by the next strip,
so that the whole work appears as if formed of a continuous
piece; in other cases the quills are used without the aid of
the sinew, being merely passed through the awl holes.
Examples of these, and in fact, of every mode in which they
are employed by our native Indians, may be seen in the
unrivalled collection of aboriginal dresses belonging to the
Philadelphia Museum.

The Canada Porcupine is principally found in the northern
parts of the United States and Canada as high as 67°; it also
occurs in some parts of Pennsylvania, but is very rare
further south. Mr. Cozzens states, that of late years they
have multiplied greatly, and are become numerous near
Oneida Lake, and in the north western part of the State of
New York. In the fur countries, they are most numerous
in sandy districts covered with the Pinus Banksiana of the
bark of which they are very fond.* They also eat the bark
of the larch and spruce fir, and the buds of various species
of willow. Further south, their food is principally composed
of the bark and leaves of the hemlock and bassvvood, though
they are also fond of sweet apples, Indian corn, &c., which
they eat in a sitting posture, using their fore paws like the
squirrels.

They are very slow in their movements, and remain in
the same spot for a long time. Hearne says, "that the In-
dians, going with packets from fort to fort, often see them
in the trees, but not having occasion for them at that time,
leave them till they return; and should their absence be for
a week or ten daj^s, they are sure to find them witliin a mile
of the place where they had seen them before." When
moving, the tail hangs down very low, and in the winter
makes a deep furrow or track in the snow which cannot be
mistaken for that of any other animal. They are generally
discovered, however, by the devastation they commit on
the trees, which, if done in the winter, is a sure sign that
the animal is near. They will, in most cases, be found on
the branches, and when approached, utter a weak cry like

• Richardson, Faun. am. bor.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

that of a child. Dr. Best, of Lexington, Ky., in a letter to
Dr. Godman, says, that in the State of Ohio they "take up
their residence in hollow trees, whence it appeared to me,
in several instances, from their tracks in the snow, they
only travel to the nearest ash tree, whose branches serve
them for food. In every instance which came under my
observation, there was no single track, but a plain beaten
path, from the tree in which they lodged, to the ash, from
which they obtained their food. I cut down two trees for
Porcupine, and found but one in each; one of the trees also
contained four raccoons, but in a separate hollow, the)"^ occu-
pied the trunk, the Porcupine the limbs."

They are readily killed by striking them on the nose,
and their flesh is much esteemed by the natives, though it
soon disgusts whites; its taste is said to resemble flabby
pork. The bones are often tinged of a greenish yellow
colour; this arises in all probability from some of the vege-
table substances on which it feeds. Like all animals of
similar habits, the Porcupine is much infested with intesti-
nal worms.

They pair about the latter end of September, and the
female brings forth two young in April and May.

THE COUGAR.

There is an extensive Swamp in the section of the State
of Mississippi which lies partly in the Choctaw territory.
It commences at the borders of the Mississippi, at no great
distance from a Chicasaw village, situated near the mouth
of a creek known by the name of Vanconnah, and partly
inundated by the swellings of several large bayous, the prin-
cipal of which, crossing the swamp in its whole extent, dis-
charges its waters not far from the mouth of the Yazoo
River. This famous bayou is called False River. The
swamp of which I am speaking follows the windings of the
Yazoo, until the latter branches off to the north-east, and at
this point forms the stream named Cold Water River, below
which the Yazoo receives the draining of another bayou
inclining towards the north-west, and intersecting that
known by the name of False River, at a short distance from
the place where the latter receives the waters of the Missis-
sippi. This tedious account of the situation of the swamp,
is given with the view of pointing it out to all students of
nature who may chance to go that way, and whom I would
earnestly urge to visit its interior, as it abounds in rare and
interesting productions: birds, quadrupeds, and reptiles, as
well as molluscous animals, many of which, I am persuaded,
have never been described.

In the course of one of my rambles, I chanced to meet

with a squatter's cabin on the banks of the Cold Water
River. In the owner of this hut, like most of those adven-
turous settlers in the uncultivated tracts of our frontier dis-
tricts, I found a person well versed in the chase, and
acquainted with the habits of some of the larger species of
quadrupeds and birds. As he who is desirous of instruction
ought not to disdain listening to any one who has know-
ledge to communicate, however humble may be his lot, or
however limited his talents, I entered the squatter's cabin,
and immediately opened a conversation with him respecting
the situation of the swamp, and its natural productions. He
told me he thought it the very place I ought to visit, spoke
of the game which it contained, and pointed to some bear
and deer skins, adding that the individuals to which they
had belonged formed but a small portion of the number of
those animals which he had shot within it. My heart
swelled with delight, and on asking if he would accompany
me through the great morass, and allow me to become an
inmate of his humble but hospitable mansion, I was gratified
to find that he cordially assented to all my proposals. So I
immediately unstrapped my drawing materials, laid up my
gun, and sat down to partake of the homely but wholesome
fare intended for the supper of the squatter, his wife, and
his two sons.

The quietness of the evening seemed in perfect accord-
ance with the gentle demeanour of the familj'. The wife
and children, I more than once thought, seemed to look
upon me as a strange sort of person, going about, as I told
them I was, in search of birds and plants; and were I here
to relate the many questions which they put to me in return
for those which I addressed to them, the catalogue would
occupy several pages. The husband, a native of Connecti-
cut, had heard of the existence of such men as myself, both
in our own country and abroad, and seemed greatly pleased
1o have me under his roof. Supper over, I asked my kind
host what had induced him to remove to this wild and soli-
tary spot. "The people are growing too numerous now to
thrive in New England," was his answer. I thought of
the state of some parts of Europe, and calculating the dense-
ness of their population compared with that of New Eng-
land, exclaimed to myself, "How much more difficult must
it be for men to thrive in those populous countries!" The
conversation then changed, and the squatter, his sons and
myself, spoke of hunting and fishing, until at length tired,
we laid ourselves down on pallets of bear skins, and reposed
in peace on the floor of the only apartment of which the hut
consisted.

Day dawned, and the squatter's call to his hogs, which,
being almost in a wild state, were sutTered to seek the
greater portion of their food in the woods, awakened me.
Being ready dressed, I was not long in joining him. The

244

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

hogs and their young came grunting at the well known call
of their owner, who threw them a few ears of corn, and
counted them, but told me that for some weeks their num-
ber had been greatly diminished by the ravages committed
upon them by a large Panther, by which name the Cougar
is designated in America, and that the ravenous animal did
not content himself with the flesh of his pigs, but now and
then carried off one of his calves, notwithstanding the many
attempts he had made to shoot it. The Vainter, as he
sometimes called it, had on several occasions robbed him of
a dead deer; and to these exploits the squatter added several
remarkable feats of audacity which it had performed, to give
me an idea of the formidable character of the beast. De-
lighted by his description, I offered to assist him in destroy-
ing the enemy, at which he was highly pleased, but assured
me that unless some of his neighbours should join us with
their dogs and his own, the attempt would prove fruitless.
Soon after, mounting a horse, he went off to his neighbours,
several of whom lived at a distance of some miles, and ap-
pointed a day of meeting.

The hunters, accordingly, made their appearance, one
fine morning, at the door of the cabin, just as the sun was
emerging from beneath the horizon. They were five in
number, and fully equipped for the chase, being mounted
on horses, which in some parts of Europe might appear
sorry nags, but which in strength, speed and bottom, are
better fitted for pursuing a cougar or a bear through woods
and morasses than any in that country. A pack of large
ugly curs were already engaged in making acquaintance
with those of the squatter. He and myself mounted his
two best horses, whilst his sons were bestriding others of
inferior quality.

Few words were uttered by the party until we had reach-
ed the edge of the Swamp, where it was agreed that all
should disperse and seek for the fresh track of the Painter,
it being previously settled tliat the discoverer should blow
his horn, and remain on the spot until the rest should join
him. In less than an hour, the sound of the horn was
clearly heard, and, sticking close to the squatter, off we
went through the thick woods, guided only by the now and
then repeated call of the distant huntsman. We soon reached
the spot, and in a short time the rest of the party came up.
The best dog was sent forward to track the Cougar, and in
a few moments the whole pack were observed diligently
trailing, and bearing in their course for the interior of the
Swamp. The rifles were immediately put in trim, and the
party followed the dogs, at separate distances, but in sight
of each other, determined to shoot at no other game than
the Panther.

The dogs soon began to mouth, and suddenly quickened
their pace. My companion concluded that the beast was on

the ground, and putting our horses to a gentle gallop, we
followed the curs, guided by their voices. The noise of
the dogs increased, when all of a sudden their mode of bark-
ing became altered, and the squatter, urging me to push on,
told me that the beast was treed, by which he meant that it
had got upon some low branch of a tree to rest for a few
moments, and that should we not succeed in shooting him
when thus situated, we might expect a long chase of it. As
we approached the spot, we all by degrees united into a
body, but on seeing the dogs at the foot of a large tree, se-
parated again and galloped ofl" to surround it.

Each hunter now moved with caution, holding his gun
ready, and allowing the bridle to dangle on the neck of his
horse, as it advanced slowly towards the dogs. A shot
from one of the party was heard, on which the Cougar was
seen to leap to tlie ground, and bound off with such velocity
as to show that he was very unwilling to stand our fire
longer. The dogs set off in pursuit with great eagerness
and a deafening crj^ The hunter who had fired came up
and said that his ball had hit the monster, and had probably
broken one of his fore-legs near the shoulder, the only place
at which he could aim. A slight trail of blood was disco-
vered on the ground, but the curs proceeded at such a rate
that we merely noticed this, and put spurs to our horses,
which galloped on towards the centre of the swamp. One
bayou was crossed, then another still largerand moremuddyj
but the dogs were brushing forward, and as the horses began
to pant at a furious rate, we judged it expedient to leave
them and advance on foot. These determined hunters knew
that the Cougar being wounded, would shortly ascend
another tree, where in all probability he would remain for
a considerable time, and that it would be easy to follow the
track of the dogs. We dismounted, took off the saddles
and bridles, set the bells attached to the horses' necks at
liberty to jingle, hoppled the animals, and left them to shift
for themselves.

Now, reader, follow the group marching through the
swamp, crossing muddy pools, and making the best of their
way over fallen trees and amongst the tangled rushes that
now and then covered acres of ground. If you are a hunter
yourself, all tjiis will appear nothing to you; but if crowded
assemblies of "beauty and fashion," or the quiet enjoyment
of your "pleasure-grounds," alone delight you, I must mend
my pen before I attempt to give you an idea of the pleasure
felt on such an expedition.

After marching for a couple of hours, we again heard the
dogs. Each of us pressed forward, elated at the thought of
terminating the career of the Cougar. Some of the dogs
were heard whining, although the greater number barked
vehementlj^ We felt assured that the Cougar was treed,
and that he would rest for some time to recover from his

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

fatigue. As we came up to the dogs, we discovered the
ferocious animal lying across a large branch, close to the
trunk of a cotton-wood tree. His broad breast lay towards
us; his eyes were at one time bent on us and again on the
dogs beneath and around him; one of his fore legs hung
loosely by his side, and he lay crouched, with his ears low-
ered close to his head, as if he thought he might remain un-
discovered. Three balls were fired at him, at a given
signal, on which he sprang a few feet from the branch, and
tumbled headlong to the ground. Attacked on all sides by
the enraged curs, the infuriated Cougar fought with despe-
rate valour; but the squatter advancing in front of the part)',
and almost in the midst of the dogs, shot him immediately
behind and beneath the left shoulder. The Cougar writhed
for a moment in agony, and in another lay dead.

The sun was now sinking in the west. Two of the hun-
ters separated from the rest, to procure venison, whilst the
squatter's sons were ordered to make the best of their way
home, to be ready to feed the hogs in the morning. The
rest of the party agreed to camp on the spot. The Cougar
was despoiled of its skin, and its carcass left to the hungry
dogs. Whilst engaged in preparing our camp, we heard
the report of a gun, and soon after one of our hunters re-
turned with a small deer. A fire was lighted, and each
hunter displayed his pone of bread, along with a flask of
whiskey. The deer was skinned in a trice, and slices placed
on sticks before the iire. These materials aflbrded us an
excellent meal, and as the night grew darker, stories and
songs went round, until my companions, fatigued, laid them-
selves down, close under the smoke of the fire, and soon
fell asleep.

I walked for some minutes round the camp, to contem-
plate the beauties of that nature, from which I have certainly
derived my greatest pleasures. I thought of the occurrences
of the day, and glancing my eye around, remarked the sin-
gular effects produced by the phosphorescent qualities of
the large decayed trunks which lay in all directions around
me. How easy, I thought, would it be for the confused
and agitated mind of a person bewildered in a swamp like
this, to imagine in each of these luminous masses some
wondrous and fearful being, the very sight of which might
make the hair stand erect on his head. The thought of
being myself placed in such a predicament burst over my
mind, and I hastened to join my companions, beside whom
I laid me down and slept, assured that no enemy could ap-
proach us without first rousing the dogs, which were growl-
ing in fierce dispute over the remains of the Cougar.

At daybreak we left our camp, the squatter bearing on

his shoulder the skin of the late destroyer of his stock, and

retraced our steps until we found our horses, which had not

strayed far from the place where vve had left them. These

3Q

we soon saddled, and jogging along, in a direct course,
guided by the sun, congratulating each other on the destruc-
tion of so formidable a neighbour as the panther had been,
we soon arrived at mj- host's cabin. The five neighbours
partook of such refreshment as the house could aflbrd, and
dispersing, returned to their homes, leaving me to follow
my favourite pursuits. — Audubon's ,/lmerican Ornitho-
logical Biography.

THE ELEPHANT.

The human race excepted, the Elephant is the most
respectable of animals. In size he surpasses all other ter-
restrial creatures, and in understanding he is inferior only
to man. Of all the brute creation, the Elephant, the dog,
the ape, and the beaver, are most admirable for their saga-
city; but the genius of the dog is only borrowed, being
instructed by man in almost every thing he knows; the
monkey has only the appearance of wisdom, and the beaver
is only sensible %vith regard to himself, and those of his
species. The Elephant is superior to them all three; he
unites all their most eminent qualities. The hand is the
principal organ of the monkey's dexterity; the Elephant
with his trunk, which serves him instead of arms and hands,
with which he can lift up, and seize the smallest, as well as
the largest objects, carry them to his mouth, place them on
his back, hold them, or throw them afar off, has the same
dexterity as the monkey, and at the same time the tractable-
ness of the dog; he is like him susceptible of gratitude,
capable of a strong attachment; he uses himself to man with-
out reluctance, and submits to him, not so much by force,
as by good treatment; he serves him with zeal, intelligence,
and fidelity; in fine, the Elephant, like the beaver, loves
the society of his equals, and makes them understand him.
They are often seen to assemble together, disperse, act in
concert, and if they do not erect buildings, and do not work
in common, it is perhaps, for want of room only, and tran-
quillity; for men have very anciently multiplied in all the
regions inhabited by the Elephant; he consequently lives in
fear and anxiety, and is no where a peaceful possessor of a
space large and secure enough to establish his habitation on
a settled spot. Every being in nature has his real price,
and relative value; to judge of both in the Elephant, we
must allow him at least the judgment of the beaver, the
dexterity of the monkey, the sentiment of the dog, and
to add to these qualifications, the peculiar advantages of
strength, size, and longevity. We must not forget his
arms, or his defence, with which he can pierce through,

246

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

and conquer the lion. We must observe, that he shakes
the ground at every step; that with his trunk he roots up
trees; that with the strength of his body he makes a breach
in a wall; that, being terrible by his force, he is invincible
by the resistance only of his enormous mass, and by the
thickness of the leather which covers it; that he can carry
on his back a tower armed in war, with a number of men;
that he alone moves machines, and carries burthens, which
six horses cannot move. To this prodigious strength he
joins courage, prudence, coolness, and an exact obedience:
he preserves moderation even in his most violent passion;
he is more constant than impetuous in love; in anger he
does not forget his friends; he never attacks any but those
who have given him offence; he remembers favours as long
as injuries: having no taste for flesh, and feeding chiefly
upon vegetables, he is not naturally an enemy to other ani-
mals; he is beloved by them all, since all of th.cm respect
him, and have no cause to fear him. For these reasons,
men have had at all times a veneration for this great, this
first of animals. The ancients considered the Elephant as
a prodigy, a miracle of nature; they have much exaggerated
his natural faculties; they attribute to him, without hesita-
tion, not only intellectual qualities, but moral virtues.

In a wild state, the Elephant is neither bloody nor fero-
cious; his manners are social; he seldom wanders alone; he
commonly walks in company, the oldest leads the herd, the
next in age drives them, and forms the rear; the young and
the weak are in the middle. The females carry th^ir
young, and hold them close with their trunks. They only
observe this order, however, in perilous marches, when they
go to feed on cultivated lands; they walk or travel with less
precaution in forests and solitary places, but still keeping at
such a moderate distance from each other, as to be able to
give mutual assistance, and seasonable warnings of danger.
Some, however, straggle, and remain behind the others;
none but these are attacked by hunters, for a small army
would be requisite to assail the whole herd, and they could
not conquer without a great loss of men; it is even danger-
ous to do them the least injury, they go straight to the
ofiender, and, notwithstanding the weight of their body,
they walk so fast that they easily overtake the lightest man
in running; they pierce him through with their tusks, or
seize him with their trunks, throw them against a stone,
and tread him under their feet; but it is only when they
have been provoked, that they become so furious and so
implacable. It is said, that when they have been once at-
tacked by men, or have fallen into a snare, they never for-
get it, and seek for revenge on all occasions. As they have
an exquisite sense of smelling, perhaps more perfect than
any other animal, owing to the large extent of their nose,
they smell a man at a great distance, and could easily follow

him by the track. These animals are fond of the banks of
rivers, deep valleys, shady places, and marshy grounds;
they cannot subsist a long while without water, and they
make it thick and muddy before they drink; they often fill
their trunks with it, either to convey it to their mouth, or
only to cool their nose, and to amuse themselves in sprink-
ling it around them; they cannot support cold, and sufier
equallj' from excessive heat, for, to avoid the burning rays
of the sun, they penetrate into the thickest forests; they also
bathe often in the water; the enormous size of their body is
rather an advantage to them in swimming, and they do not
swim so deep in the water as other animals; besides, the
length of their trunk, which they erect, and through which
they breathe, takes from them all fear of being drowned.

Their common food is roots, herbs, leaves, and young
branches; they also eat fruit and corn, but the}' have a dis-
like to flesh and fish. When one of them finds abundant
pasture, he calls the others, and invites them to come and
feed with him. As they want a great quantity of fodder,
they often change their place, and when the}' find cultivated
lands, they make a prodigious waste; their bodies being of
an enormous weight, they destroy ten times more with
their feet, than they consume for their food, which may be
reckoned at the rate of one hundred and fifty pounds of grass
daily. As they never feed but in great numbers, they
waste a large territory in about an hour's time; for this rea-
son, the Indians and the Negroes take great pains to prevent
their visits, and to drive them away, by making a great
noise, and great fires; notwithstanding these precautions,
however, the Elephants often take possession of them, drive
away the cattle and men, and sometimes pull down their
cottages. It is difiicult to frighten them, as they are little
susceptible of fear; nothing can stop them but fire-works,
and crackers thrown amongst them, the sadden effect of
which, often repeated, forces them sometimes to turn back.
It is very difficult to part them, for they commonly attack
their enemies all together, proceed unconcerned, or turn
back.

The female Elephant goes two years with young; when
she is in that condition the male never conjoins with her.
They only bring forth a young one, which has teeth as soon
as brought forth; he is then larger than a boar; yet his tusks
are not visible, they appear soon after, and at six months old
are some inches in length; at that age, the Elephant is larger
than an ox, and the tusks continue to increase till he is ad-
vanced in 3'ears.

It is very easy to tame the Elephant. As he is the
strongest and most rational of animals, he is more serviceable
than any of them; but he was formerly supposed to feel his
servile condition, and never to couple in a domestic state.
This, however, has been found to be an erroneous opinion.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

247

There is, therefore, no domestic Elephant but has been
wild before; and the manner of taking, taming, and bring-
ing them into submission, deserves particular attention. In
the middle of forests, and in the vicinity of the places which
they frequent, a large space is chosen, and encircled with
palisadoes; the strongest trees of the forest serve instead of
stakes, to which cross pieces of timber are fastened, which
support the other stakes; a man may easily pass through this
palisado; there is another great opening, through which the
Elephant may go in, with a trap hanging over it, or a gate
which is shut behind him : to bring him to that enclosure,
he must be enticed by a tame female, ready to take the
male; and when her leader thinks she is near enough to be
heard, he obliges her to indicate by her cries the condition
she is in; the wild male answers immediately, and begins
his march to join her, she repeats her call now and then,
and arrives first to the first enclosure, where the male, fol-
lowing her track, enters through the same gate. As soon
as he perceives himelf shut up, his ardour vanishes, and
when he discovers the hunters, he becomes furious; they
throw at him ropes with a running knot to stop him; they
fetter his legs and his trunk, they bring two or three tame
Elephants, led by dexterous men, and try to tie them with
the wild Elephant, and at last, by dint of dexterity, strength,
terror, and caresses, they succeed in taming him in a few
days.

The Elephant, once tamed, becomes the most tractable
and the most submissive of all animals; he conceives an
affection for his leader, he caresses him, and seems to guess
whatever can please him: in a little time he understands the
signs, and even the expression of sounds; he distinguishes
the tone of command, that of anger or good nature, and acts
accordingly: he never mistakes the words of his master; he
receives his orders with attention, executes them with pru-
dence and eagerness, without precipitation; for his motions
are always measured, and his character seems to participate
of the gravity of his body; he is easily taught to bend the
knee to assist those who will ride on his back; he caresses
his friends with his trunk, and salutes with it the persons
he is directed to take notice of: he makes use of it to lift
burdens, and helps to load himself; he has no aversion to
being clothed, and seems to delight in a golden harness or
magnificent trappings; he is easily put to the traces of carts,
and draws ships upon occasion: he draws evenly, without
stopping, or any marks of dislike, provided he is not insult-
ed by unseasonable correction, and provided his driver
seems to be thankful for the spontaneous exertion of his
strength. His leader is mounted on his neck, and makes
use of an iron rod crooked at the end, with which he strikes
him gently on the head to make him turn or increase his

pace; but often a word is sufficient, especially if he has had
time to make himself well acquainted with his leader, and
has a confidence in him ; his attachment is sometimes so
strong and so lasting, and his affection so great, that com-
monly he refuses to serve under any other person, and he is
known to have died of grief for having in anger killed his
governor.

The species of the Elephant is numerous, though they
bring forth but one young once in two or three years; the
shorter the life of animals is, the more they multiply: in
the Elephant, the length of his life compensates the small
number; and if it is true, as has been affirmed, that he lives
two hundred years, and that he begets when he is one hun-
dred and twenty years old, each couple brings forth forty
young in that space of time: besides, having nothing to fear
from other animals, and little even from men, who take
them with great difficulty, the species has not decreased,
and is generally dispersed in all the southern parts of Africa
and Asia.

Frcm time immemorial the Indians made use of Ele-
phants in war. Amongst those nations unacquainted with
the European military discipline, they were the best troops
of their armies; and as longas battles were decided by mere
weapons, they commonly vanquished : yet we see in his-
tory, that the Greeks and Romans used themselves soon to
those monsters of war; they opened their ranks to let them
go through; they did not attempt to wound them, but threw
all their darts against their leaders, who were forced to sur-
render, and to calm the Elephants when separated from
their troops ; and now that fire is become the element of
war, and the principal instrument of death, the Elephants,
who are afraid of the noise and the fire of the artillery,
would be rather an incumbrance in battle, and more danger-
ous than useful.

In those regions, however, where our cannons and mur-
dering arts are yet scarcely known, they fight still with
Elephants. At Cochin, and in the other parts of Malabar,
they do not make use of horses, and all those who do not
fight on foot are mounted upon Elephants. In Tonquin,
Siam, and Pegu, the king, and all the grandees, never ride
but upon Elephants: on festival days they are preceded and
followed by a great number of these animals richly capari-
soned, and covered with the richest stuffs. On comparing
the relations of travellers and historians, it appears that the
Elephants are more numerous in Africa than in Asia; they
are there also less mistrustful, not so wild, and, as if they
knew the unskilfulness and the little power of the men with
whom they have to deal in this part of the world, come
every day without fear to their habitations.

Buffoii's Natural History.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

THE MULE.

The longevity of the Mule has become so proverbial,
that a purchaser seldom inquires his age. Pliny gives an
account of one, taken from Grecian history, that was eighty
years old; and though past labour, followed others that were
carrying materials to build the temple of Minerva at Athens,
and seemed to wish to assist them ; which so pleased the
people, that they ordered he should have free egress to the
grain market. Dr. Rees mentions two that were seventy
years old in England. I saw, myself, in the West Indies,
a mule perform his task in a cane mill, that his owner as-
sured nae was forty years old. I now own a mare mule
twenty-five years old, that I have had in constant work
twenty-one years, and can discover no diminution in her
powers; she has within a year past often taken upwards of
a ton weight in a wagon to Boston, a distance of more than
five miles. A gentleman in my neighborhood has owned a
very large mule about fourteen 3-ears, that cannot be less
than twenty-eight years old. He informed me a few days
since, that he could not perceive the least failure in him,
and would not exchange him for any farm horse in the
county. And I am just informed, from a source entitled to
perfect confidence, that a highly respectable gentleman and
eminent agriculturalist, near Centreville, on the Eastern
Shore of JNIaryland, owns a mule, that is thirty-five years
old, as capable of labour as at any former period.

The great Roman naturalist, in one of the most beautiful
passages of his elaborate history of nature, observes that
"the earth is constantly teased more to furnish the luxuries
of man than his necessities."* We can have no doubt but
that the remark applied with great justice to the habits of
the Romans in the time of Plinj-; and I am much mistaken
if ample proofs cannot be adduced, that it will lose none of
its force or truth, at this present period, in all northern cli-
mates, or any section of the United States where the horse
is employed for agriculture as well as for pleasure. Far be
it from me, however, to disparage this noble animal; on the
contrary I feel a strong attachment for him; and at the same
time a full conviction, that the substitution of the mule, for

* It is the earth that, like a kind mother receives us at our birtli, and sus-
tains us when born. It is this alone, of all the elements around us, that is
never found an enemy to man. The body of waters deluge him with rains,
oppress him with hail, and drown him with inundations : the air rushes on
in storms, prepares the tempest, or lights up the volcano; but the earth, gen-
tle and indulgent, ever subservient to the wants of man, spreads his walks
with flowers, and his table with plenty; returns with interest every good
committed to her care, and though she produces the poison, she still supplies
the antidote, though constantly teased more to furnish the luxuries of man,
than his necessities, yet even to tile last, she continues her kind indulgence,
and when life is over, she piously hides his remains in her bosom.

Pliny's Natural History, Book II. Chap. 63.

the purposes before stated, as extensively as may be consis-
tent with the requisite production of each species, will have
the effect of restoring the horse to the station from which
he has been degraded, and place him as in former ages, upon
a more dignified footing, an object of acknowledged luxury;
and thereby introduce a more correct system of breeding
and management, in which our countrymen are so gene-
rally deficient, consequently more perfect animals and such
an advance in the price of them, that will afford the farmer
what he is now a stranger to — such remuneration as will
make his brood mares a profitable species of stock. And it
is obvious that the system will be followed by an improve-
ment in the breed of mules, in the same ratio as the misera-
ble race of scrub mares, which are now consuming the pro-
fits of agriculture, shall become extinct.

It does not appear that the horse was employed by the
ancients for any purpose of husbandry. The ox and ass
drew the plough and the wain, and performed all kinds of
drudgery until after the feudal system was established in
Europe, when the numerous retainers of the feudal lords,
who held their lands by the tenure of performing knight's
service, found themselves under the necessity of making the
horses they were obliged to keep, contribute towards their
support in the cultivation. From this time I believe, we
may date, and from this cause may be attributed, the intro-
duction of the horse for the purposes of agriculture. Since
that period, the history of Europe is little else than the an-
nals of war and its preparations; and no material for that
scourge, except the deluded human victims, seems more
necessary than the horse — accordingly we find that through-
out the whole country, from the Rhine or the Seine, to
beyond the Danube and Vistula, which has been the princi-
pal arena, the system of agriculture has embraced, exten-
sively, the breeding of horses of different grades and forms
adapted to the several uses in war. Indeed, whole pro-
vinces were appropriated almost exclusively to the rearing
those animals for disposal to the diflerent combatants; and it
must be obvious, that their general use in husbandry, at the
same time, would follow as a necessary consequence. It
cannot be expected therefore, but that the Dutch and Ger-
mans who have emigrated to our country, should bring
with them such strong predilections for the horse, which
have continued with most of tlieir descendants, especially in
those sections where communities of that respectable and
industrious portion of our population have been located.
In Great Britain, to the causes which have produced the
effects described on the continent, may be added the insular
position of the United Kingdoms, vulnerable from number-
less and distant points, the horse has been considered, in
connection with the unconquerable spirit of the nation, as
one of the most eificient means of repelling invasion: a cir-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SP0RTf5.

249

cumstance that would of itself be sufficient to account for the
overvveaning attachment to this animal. But identified as
his services have been, for a long period, with the conve-
nience, sports, and recreations, of all ranks and classes, and
the science of breeding, and training forming a characteris-
tic feature, it could not excite surprise, if the approach of
that terrible spectre, famine, should produce little or no
effect in the reduction of the number. And although some
of the most distinguished characters in the nation, eminent
for their practical knowledge in rural economj', have been
for half a century advocating tiie substitution of the ox for
the purposes of agriculture, and demonstrating the feasi-
bility, economy, and vast saving of food, yet it is said the
number of labouring oxen have lately diminished and horses
increased. Five millions of the latter are now supposed to
subsist in the United Kingdom, and two-thirds employed in
husbandry — consuming, at a moderate estimate, the product
of twenty millions of highly cultivated acres! And what
is the consequence? consumption follows so close upon
supply, that at every season of harvest, let the preceding
one be never so abundant, fast sailing vessels are found in
the various ports, with their anchors atrip, to convey intel-
ligence of the result, to all parts of the world, where a sur-
plus of bread corn is grown — exciting such an interest in
our own country, that the farmer on the shores of Erie and
Ontario, and on the banks of the Ohio, may be seen reading
bulletins of British weather — the rain and sunshine of every
day in August and the two following months — often within
thirty days after the time of their publication in London or
Liverpool. Can it be supposed, that in a country where an
attachment to the horse borders so nearly upon infatuation,
that the question of the utility of the Mule as a substitute,
would be seriously agitated, or engage scarce a momentary
investigation ?

In no country is the Mule better adapted to all the pur-
poses of husbandr_v, for which the horse is used, than in
every section of our own. And it would be highly desira-
ble to be able to exhibit a calculation of the actual saving,
in dollars and cents, by his employment — but unfortunately
no correct data can be had. And as I consider such calcu-
lations, unless founded upon experimental facts, and those
multiplied, to be as "tinkling cymbals," I shall merely sub-
mit a desultory comparison between the Mule and the Horse,
derived from such facts as my own experience, and in-
formation from authentic sources, will justify the assump-
tion of.

From what has been stated respecting the longevity of
the Mule, I think it may be fairly assumed, that he does not
deteriorate more rapidly after twenty years of age, than the
horse after ten, allowing the same extent of work and simi-
lar treatment to each. The contrast in the Mule's freedom
3 R

from malady or disease, compared with the horse, is not less
striking. Arthur Young, during his tour in Ireland, was
informed that a gentleman had lost several fine Mules by
feeding them on wheat straw cut; and I have been informed
that a Mule dealer, in the western part of New York, attri-
buted the loss of a number of young Mules, in a severe win-
ter, when his hay was exhausted, to feeding them exclu-
sively on cut straw and Indian corn meal. In no other
instance havel ever heard or known of a Mule being attacked
with any disorder or complaint, except two or three cases
of inflammation of the intestines, caused by gross neglect in
permitting them to remain exposed to cold and wet, when
in a high state of perspiration after severe labour, and drink-
ing to excess of cold water. From his light frame and more
cautious movements, the mule is less subject to casualties
than the horse. Indeed, it is not improbable, but a farmer
may work the same team of Mules above twenty years and
never be presented with a farrier's bill, or find it necessary
to exercise the art himself.

Sir John Sinclair, in his "Reports on the Agriculture of
Scotland," remarks that "if the whole period of a horse's
labour be fifteen j-ears, the first six may be equal in value to
that of the remaining nine: therefore, a horse of ten years
old, after working six years, may be worth half his original
value." He estimates the annual decline of a horse to be
equal to fifty percent, on his price every six years, and sup-
poses one out of twenty-five that are regularly employed in
agriculture, to die every year: constituting a charge of four
per cent, per annum for insurance against diseases and acci-
dents. He considers five acres of land, of medium quality,
necessary for the maintenance of each horse, and the annual
expense, including harness, shoeing, farriery, insurance and
decline in value, allowing him to cost two hundred dollars,
to exceed that sum about five per cent., which is the only-
difference between the estimate of this illustrious and accu-
rate agriculturalist, and that of a respectable committee of
the Farmers' Society of Barnwell district, South Carolina,
who, in a report published in the Charleston Courier, of 23d
of February last, state, that "the annual expense of keeping
a horse is equal to his value!" The same committee also
state, that "at four years old a horse will seldom sell for
more than the expense of rearing him." That "the supe-
riority of the Mule over the horse, had long been appreci-
ated by some of their most judicious planters — that two
Mules could be raised at less expense than one horse — that
a Mule is fit for service at an earlier period, if of sufficient
size — will perform as much labour, and if attended to when
first put to work, his gait and habits may be formed to suit
the taste of the owner." This report may be considered a
most valuable document, emanating as it does, from en-
lightened practical farmers and planters, in a section of

250

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

country where we may suppose a Iiorse can be maintained
cheaper than in Maryland, or any State farther North.

I am convinced that the small breed of Mules will con-
sume less in proportion to the labour they are capable of
performinj^, than the large race, but I shall contine the com-
parison to tlie latter — those that stand from fourteen and a
half, to rising of fifteen hands, and equal to any labour that
a horse is usually put to. From repeated experiments in
the course of two winters, I found, that three Mules of this
description, that were constantly at work, consumed about
the same quantity of hay, and only one-fourth the provender
that was given to two middling sized coach horses mode-
rately worked. And from many years attentive observa-
tion, I am led to believe that a large sized Mule will not
require more than three-fifths to two-thirds the food, to
keep him in good order, that will be necessary for a horse
performing the same extent of labour. Although a Mule
will work and endure on such mean and hard fare, that a
horse would soon give out upon, he has an equal relish for
that which is good; and it is strict economy to indulge him,
for no animal will pay better for extra keep, by extra work.
But if, by hard fare, or hard work, he is reduced to a skele-
ton, two or three weeks rest and good keeping will put him
in flesh and high condition for labour. I have witnessed
several such examples with subjects twenty years old ; so
much cannot be said of a horse at that age. The expense
of shoeing a Mule the year round, does not amount to more
than one-third that of a horse, his hoofs being harder, more
horny, and so slow in their growth, the shoes require no
removal, and hold on till worn out — and the wear, from the
lightness of llic animal, is much less.

In answer to the charge generally prevalent against the
Mule, that he is "vicious, stubborn, and slow," I can assert,
that out of about twenty that have been employed on my
estate, at different periods during a course of thirty years,
and those picked up chiefly on account of their size and
spirit, wherever they could be found, one only had any
vicious propensities, and those might have been subdued by
proper management when young. I have always found
them truer i)ullers, and quicker travellers with a load, than
horses. Their vision and hearing is much more accurate.
I have used tliem in my family carriage, in a gig, and under
the saddle: and have never known one to start or run from
any object or noise: a fault in the horse that continually
causes the maiming and death of numbers of human beings.
The Mule is more steady in his draught, and less likely to
waste his strength than the horse: hence more suitable to
work with oxen; and as he walks faster, will habituate them
to a quicker gait. But for none of the purposes of agricul-
ture does his superiority appear more conspicuous than
ploughing among crops, his feet being smaller and follow

each other so much more in a line, that he seldom treads
down the ridges or crops. The facility of instructing him
to obey implicitly the voice of his driver or the ploughman,
is astonishing. The best ploughed tillage land I ever saw,
I have had performed by two Mules, tandem, without linea
or driver.

There is one plausible objection often urged against the
Mule, that "on deep soils and deep roads, his feet being so
much smaller than those of the horse, sink farther in;" but
it should be considered that lie can extricate them with as
much greater facility.

Few can be ignorant of the capacity of the ]Mule to en-
dure labour in a temperature of heat that would be destruc-
tive to tlie horse, who have any knowledge of the preference
for him merely on that account, in the West Indies, and in
the Southern Slates.

It is full time to bring our comparison to a close, which
I shall do by assuming the position, that the farmer who
substitutes Mules for horses, will have this portion of his
animal labour performed, with the expense of one spire of
grass instead of two; which may be equal, so far, to making
"two spires grow where one grew before." For although
a large sized ]\Iule will consume somewhat more than half
the food necessary for a horse, as has been observed, yet if
we take into account the saving in expense of shoeing, far-
riery, and insurance against diseases and accidents, we may
safely afiirm, that a clear saving of one half can be fully sub-
stantiated. But in addition to this, the Mule farmer may
calculate, with tolerable certainty, upon the continuation of
his capital for thirty years: whereas the horse farmer, at
the expiration oi fifteen years, must look to his crops, to
his acres, or a bank, for the renewal of his — or perhaps,
what is worse, he must commence liorsc jockey at an early
period.

The intense interest with which the public mind is at pre-
sent occupied on the subject of canals now in operation and
progress, encourages me to offer the IMulc as an important
auxiliary in the economy of their management; as I trust, it
will not be denied, that on the cheapness of transportation
on them, depends their utility as well as profit to the stock-
holders. The JNIule seems so peculiarly adapted for the
labour on canals, that compared with the horse, he may be
considered almost equal to a locomotive power engine.
Among the advantages we have enum.crated respecting his
use in husbandry, the most of which are applicable to canal
labour, that of the much greater security from diseases and
casualities, which must necessarily require a great number
of supernumerary horses, to prevent interruption in the line
of passage, is not the least important, nor is the very trifling
expense at which the JNIule can be supported during the
winter months, as he will bear being taken off his feed till

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

251

the boats are about to be launched in the spring, and in a
few days can be made fit for eflicient duty — while a horse
will require at least half feed if he does nothing, or must be
fed high for some time before he can resume the labour that
will bs demanded of him. The same advantages may be
derived by his employment on railways.

I cannot resist an impulse to exhibit the Mule in one
other point of view. For the movement of machinery, the
employment of this animal, when judiciously selected, has
met with a most decided preference, in comparison with the
horse, independent of the economy in using him. And if
we consider the rapid, and probably progressive increase of
labour-saving machines, in every department where they
can be made subservient to the requirements of society, it
is evident that there will be a corresponding demand for
animal power, as well as for that more potent, derived from
the elements; and although the latter may vastly predomi-
nate, yet should the horse be employed, and his increase for
other purposes continue, as it now does in the ratio of popu-
lation, the number, at no very distant period, may become
as alarming in our own, as it is at present in our mother
countr3^ And notwithstanding we may feel secure, from
the extent of our territory and extreme diversity of soil and
climate, but, above all, from being in possession of Indian
corn — the GOLDEN FLEECE found by our <' pilgrim fathers,"
when they first landed on these shores; yet such peculiar
advantages may not insure us against the visitations of one
of the most distressing calamities that a feeling community
can possibly be subjected to.

Mason's Farrier.

NOTES OF A NATURALIST.

By Jacob Greex, JNI. D.

Remarks upon some of the marine animals ivhich inhabit
the North Jitlantic Ocean.

On the 12th of May, when about one hundred miles to
the westward of Mizen Head, on the coast of Ireland, in
my passage across the Atlantic, we encountered one of those
long and monotonous calms, which so frequently occur in
these lattiludes at this season of the year. For two or three
daj's scarcely a breath of wind agitated the air, or a wave
ruffled the smooth surface of the ocean. At my request,
Capt. Dixey, the obliging master of our packet ship, fur-
nished me with a small boat, in which I made a little excur-
sion on the water, for a mile or two round the vessel, in
search of marine animals. Among the number captured

were multitudes of the Cleodora, probably the species
called Cleodora lanceolata of Peron and Le Sueur.*' The
body of this little moluscous animal is partly covered by a
thin transparent shell, like an inverted pyramid, or a hollow
spear head; I observed them in large groupes or shoals,
not only close to the surface of the water, but also some
fathoms below it. They appeared of a greenish hue through-
out, the colour of the animal being distinctly visible through
its transparent shell. They seemed to float horizontally in
the water, that is, the axes of the conical shell was nearly
parallel to the surface. When under the water, their powers
of locomotion are exceedingly limited, if they possess them
at all. On reaching the hand into the water to capture
them, they exhibited no motion, and on drawing into the
boat a line, which I had thrown out, many of them were
found adhering to it. There seems to be a curious organi-
zation of these animals which has escaped the notice of
Peron and Le Sueur, who have given us the best account
of them. At the apex of the conical shell there is a small
globular enlargement, which appears to be filled by minute
muscular filaments from the end of the body. By this con-
trivance the animal is not only attached to the shell, but a
small degree of motion between its testaceous and muscular
parts may be produced.

Three or four days before the little exctirsion I have just
noticed, I amused myself in taking, with a small net, the
velellffi, which floated in vast numbers past the sliip. The
velella is a small, flat, cartilaginous animal, about the size
and thickness of a dollar, having a little sail or crest passing
transversely over the top or upper surface; this little sail is
fringed with blue, and the whole portion of the animal out
of the water shines with all the colours of the rainbow.
Sometimes the sudden rippling of the waves, or a puflf of
the wind, would overturn them ; but they soon regained
their upright position. On placing these animals in a turn-
bier of sea-water, they exhibited one of the most beautiful
objects I have seen. The fringe of the little sail which
crosses its back, and the curved and radiating lines on the
body of the animal, all presented a fine play of pavonine
colours. Attached to the lower surface of the velella I no-
ticed, in almost every instance, the little blue shell, called
ianthina, and which I first believed to be the parent or
rightful owner of the floating apparatus. It is probable,
however, that it makes use of the velella, not only to sup-
port itself near the surface of the ocean, but that it also de-
rives from it its principal nourishment, by absorbino- its
juices. From some observation, I am rather of the opinion

* In Peron and Le Sueur's account of the moluscous animals taken in the
Mediterranean near Nice, this is called hyaUa lanceolata. We are at a loss
to account for this mistake in these remarkably profound and accurate Zoolo-
gists.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL mSTORY

that the animal economy of these two molluscse is singularly
adapted to their mutual benefit; the velella supplying nour-
ishment and a floating apparatus to the ianthina, and the
ianthina, by its attachment below so balancing and ballasting
the velelte, as to preserve it in an upright position, which
is necessary to its motions through the water. However
this may be, there appeared, upon closely examining a
great number, but little injury sustained by the velellas from
its parasite. Some of the adhering shells were quite young,
and others full grown specimens. As far as my knowledge
in natural history extends, the ianthina was never before
ascertained to be parastitic to the velella, or made use of
its buoyancy on the surface of the waves to supply the place
of its own beautiful apparatus of air cells. This fact con-
firms the acuteness of Cuvier, that accurate observer of na-
ture, who justly concluded that the ordinary floating appa-
ratus of the ianthina was sometimes naturally absent; as, in
some specimens of the animal which he examined, not a
vestige of that organ could be perceived, and no scar or cica-
trix on the foot, by which it is secreted, could, on the most
minute examination, be discovered.

Both the ianthina and velella seem to throw out a violet
coloured liquid, when first captured. The purple fluid dis-
charged by these animals will stain a white handkerchief a
fine rich colour. As the ianthina is often found in the
Mediterranean sea, it has been suggested, with some plau-
sibility, that this purple fluid may be the basis of the Tyrian
dye, or ancient royal purple, accidentally discovered by the
dog of Hercules. I regret very much that I could not try
the effect of acids and alkalies on this colour. According
to Pliny, alkalies gave it a green tint; if so, it is analogous
to a vegetable blue or purple. We are informed by Stavo-
rinus, that when the liquid obtained from the ianthina is
evaporated to dryness, a powder is obtained, which, on
being mixed with gum-water, forms a beautiful purple paint.

Since writing the above, I find, in a late foreign journal,
that Mr. Lesson has satisfactorily proved that the Tyrian
purple, noticed by Pliny, was undoubtedly derived from
the ianthina. He states, from some imperfect trials, that
the colour of the ianthina will form a valuable re-agent, for
it passes very readily to red, under the action of acids, and
returns to blue under that of alkalies. With the oxalate of
ammonia it gives a precipitate of a dark blue colour, and
with the nitrate of silver a very pleasant greyish blue, both
of which are good colours for drawing.

I am doubtful as to the specific name both of the ianthina
and velella above noticed. The velella approaches very
near to the V. mittica, but the tentacula; on the under sur-
face cover it completely, except a narrow space at the mar-
gin, and a small portion immediately round the mouth;
they are also longer near the margin, and gradually dimin-

ish in length as they recede inwards. If the animal proves
to be new, I shall call it Velella atlantica.

The ianthina is very closely allied to the /. globosa
figured in Swainson's Zoological Illustrations, though the
shell is by no means so large and beautifully coloured as
those there represented.

SUMMER DUCK, OR WOOD DUCK.

[Plate XXIL]

Le Canard cVEtl:, Briss. vi. p. 35L W. pi. Z%. fig. 2.

Le beau Canard huppe, Buff, ix, p. 245. — PI. Enl.
9S0. 981, — Suviiner Duck,CAT^iiViY, 1, pi. 97. — Edw.
pi. \0\.—^rct. Zool. No. 943.— Lath. Syn. in. p.
546. — ^nas spoiisa, Gmel. Syst. i, p. 539, No. 43. —
Jnd. Orn. p. S76, No. 97.— Philadelphia Museum.

"This most beautiful of all our Ducks, has probably no
superior among its whole tribe for richness and variety of
colours. It is called the JVood Duck, from the circum-
stance of its breeding in hollow trees; and the Summer
Duck, from remaining with us chiefly during the summer.
It is familiarly known in every quarter of the United States,
from Florida to Lake Ontario, in the neighbourhood of
which latter place I have myself met with it in October.
It rarely visits the seashore, or salt marshes; its favourite
haunts being the solitary deep and muddy creeks, ponds,
and mill dams of the interior, making its nest frequently in
old hollow trees that overhang the water.

The Summer Duck is equally well known in Mexico and
many of the West India islands. During the whole of our
winters they are occasionally seen in H.ie States south of the
Potomac. On the tenth of Januar}^ I met with two on a
creek near Petersburg in Virginia. In the more northern
districts, however, they are migratory. In Pennsylvania
the female usually begins to lay late in April or early in
May. Instances have been known where the nest was con-
structed of a few sticks laid in a fork of the branches; usu-
ally, however, the inside of a hollow tree is selected for
this purpose. On the eighteenth of May I visited a tree
containing the nest of a Summer Duck, on the banks of
Tuckahoe river. New Jersey. It was an old grotesque
white oak, whose top had been torn off by a storm. It
stood on the declivity of the bank, about twenty yards from
the water. In this hollow and broken top, and about six
feet down, on the soft decayed wood, lay tliirteen eggs,
snugly covered with down, doubtless taken from the breast
of the bird. These eggs were of an exact oval shape, less

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

than those of a hen, the surface exceedingly fine grained,
and of the highest polish and slightly yellowish, greatly
resembling old polished ivory. The egg measured two
inches and an eighth by one inch and a half. On breaking
one of them, the young bird was found to be nearly hatched,
but dead, as neither of the parents had been observed about
the tree during the three or four days preceding; and were
conjectured to have been shot.

This tree had been occupied, probably by the same pair,
for four successive years, in breeding time; the person who
gave me the information, and whose house was within
twenty or thirty yards of the ti-ee, said that he had seen the
female, the spring preceding, carry down thirteen young,
one by one, in less than ten minutes. She caught them in
her bill by the wing or back of the neck, and landed them
safely at the foot of the tree, whence she afterwards led
them to the water. Under this same tree, at the time I
visited it, a large sloop lay on the stocks, nearly finished,
the deck was not more than twelve feet distant from the
nest, yet notwithstanding the presence and noise of the
workmen, the ducks would not abandon their old breeding
place, but continued to pass out and in as if no person had
been near. The male usually perched on an adjoining limb,
and kept watch while the female was laying; and also often
while she was sitting. A tame goose had chosen a hollow
space at the root of the same tree, to lay and hatch her
young in.

The Summer Duck seldom flies in flocks of more than
three or four individuals together, and most commonly in
pairs, or singly. The common note of the drake is peet,
peet; but, when standing sentinel, he sees danger, he makes
a noise not unlike the crowing of a young cock, oe eeki
oe eeki Their food consists principally of acorns, chesnuts,
seeds of the wild oats, and insects. Their flesh is inferior
to that of the Blue-winged Teal. They are frequent in the
markets of Philadelphia and New York.

Among other gaudy feathers with which the Indians or-
nament the calumet, or pipe of peace, the skin of the head
and neck of the Summer Duck is frequently seen covering
the stem.

This beautiful bird has often been tamed, and soon be-
comes so familiar as to permit one to stroke its back with
the hand. I have seen individuals so tamed in various
parts of the Union. Captain Boyce, collector of the port
of Havre-de-Grace, informs me that about forty years ago,
a Mr. Nathan Nicols, who lived on the west side of Gun-
powder creek, had a whole yard swarming with Summer
Ducks, which he had tamed and completely domesticated,
so that they bred and were as familiar as any other tame
fowls; that he (Capt. Boyce) himself saw them in that state,
but does not know what became of them. Latham says
3S

that they are often kept in European menageries, and will
breed there.

The Wood Duck is nineteen inches in length, and two
feet four inches in extent, bill red, margined with black; a
spot of black lies between the nostrils, reaching nearly to
the tip, which is also of the same colour, and furnished with
a large hooked nail; irides orar.ge red; front, crown, and
pendent crest rich glossy bronze green ending in violet,
elegantly marked with a line of pure white running from
the upper mandible over the eye, and with another band of
white proceeding from behind the eye, both mingling their
long pendent plumes with the green and violet ones, pro-
ducing a rich effect ; cheeks and sides of the upper neck
violet; chin, throat, and collar round the neck pure white,
curving up in the form of a crescent nearly to the posterior
part of the ej^e; the white collar is bounded below with
black; breast dark violet brown, marked on the fore part
with minute triangular spots of white, increasing in size
until they spread into the white of the belly; each side of
the breast is bounded b}' a large crescent of white, and that
again by a broader one of deep black; sides under the wings
thickly and beautifully marked with fine undulating parallel
lines of black, on a ground of yellowish drab; the flanks are
ornamented with broad alternate semicircular bands of black
and white; sides of the vent I'ich light violet; tail-coverts
long, of a hair-like texture at the sides, over which they
descend, and of a deep black glossed with green; back
dusky bronze, reflecting green; scapulars black; tail taper-
ing, dark glossy green above, below dusky; primaries
dusky, silvery hoary without, tipt with violet blue; secon-
daries greenish blue, tipt with white; wing-coverts violet
blue tipt with black; vent dusky; legs and feet yellowish
red, claws strong and hooked. The above is an accurate
description.

The female has the head slightly crested, crown dark
purple, behind the eye a bar of white; chin, and throat for
two inches, also white; head and neck dark drab; breast
dusky brown, marked with large triangular spots of white;
back dark glossy bronze brown, with some gold and green-
ish reflections. Speculum of the wings nearly the same as
in the m.ale, but the fine pencilling of the sides, and the long
hair-like tail-coverts, are wanting; the tail is also shorter."

SHOOTING PARTIES.

At an annual shooting match at St. Stephen, N. B. 30th
ult. two parties of seven men each, returned 100 partridges,
6 black ducks, 6 robins, 17 woodcocks, 70 squirrels, 3 yel-
low hammers, 2 snipes, 2 blackbirds, 1 pigeon, 2 jays, 1
rabbit, 1 bear— total 214.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

PROCEEDINGS OF THE CINCINNATI ANGLING CLUB.

Doubt not, therefore, sir, but that Angling is an art worth your learning:
the question is, rather, whether you be capable of learning it? for Angling
is somewhat like poetry, men are born so : I mean with inclinations to it —
though both may be strengthened by diseoursc and practiee : but he that
hopes to be a good Angler, must not only bring an inquiring, searching, ob-
serving wit ; but he must bring a large measure of hope and patience, and a
propensity to the art itself; but having once got and practised it, then doubt
not but Angling wiU prove so pleasant, that it \vill be like virtue, a reward
to itself

And for you that have heard many grave, serious men, pity anglers, let
me tell you, sir, there be many men that are by otliers taken to be serious
and grave men, whom we consider and pity. Men that are taken to be grave
because nature has made them of a sour complexion— money-getting men —
men that spend all their time, first, getting, and next in anxious care to
keep it — men that are condemned to be rich, and then always busy or dis-
contented; for these poor, rich, men, we Anglers pity them perfectly, and
atand in no need to borrow tlieir thoughts to think ourselves so happy.

IZAAK WALTON.

PISCATORIAL CELEBRATION.

Some lovers of the Rod, resident in this city, conform-
ing to the spirit of the times in regard to associations, have
recently united themselves under the style and title of the
Cincinnati Angling Club. A constitution has been
adopted, and by-laws established for their future govern-
ment. The number of members is limited to twevty-five.
The officers are, a President, Vice President, Secretary,
and three Counsellors. Four regular meetings are to be
held in each year, the last of which, — the first Thursday of
October, — is the Anniversary, at which time the members
of the Club dine together, and have cither a discourse deli-
vered to them upon angling and ichthyology, or else a
chapter read to them from the pages of "honest old Izaak

Walton." A record of all the piscatory proceedings of
the members, is kept by the Secretary, it being the duty of
each one of the Club, to report, upon his return from an
angling excursion, the nature and extent of his success with
the finny tribe.

The first anniversary of the Club took place on Thursday
of last week. It was celebrated at Col. William Clark's,
on White Water, about twenty miles north-west of this
city. A part of the brethren made a lodgment at this point
on Wednesda)'', and were joined by otliers, with a few
invited guests, (among whom, thanks to our good luck, we
were numbered,) on the morning of the following day. Of
the whole number present, not more than 12 or 15 engaged
with the rod. These angled for a day and a half, and
with capital success, having caught within that time, three
hundred and fifty -three Bass and Salmon, many of the
former being unusually large. One of the Bass, caught by
the superior skill of the President, after a severe contest,
weighed _^t'e pounds two ounces, being the largest fish, of
that kind, ever taken by an angler from the waters of the
Miami.

At five o'clock, P. M. the compan)^, about thirty in num-
ber, sat down to a table, richly stored with the ichthyolo-
gical treasures, which their skill had drawn from the neigh-
bouring streams. They were served up in every variety
of form that could delight the eye or please the taste, hav-
ing been dressed by experienced cooks, in nine or ten dif-
ferent modes. The " noble Bass" caught by the President,
was placed in front of him, at tlie head ef the table. After
the company had borne ample testimony to the excellence
of the dishes, and giving satisfactory proof of possessing a
very reasonable portion of good taste, the following intel-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

258

lectual exercises supervened upon those of a more physical
character. The President read the first of the regular
toasts:

1 . The ohject of our Association — To blend social amuse-
ment with healthy recreation.

After this toast was drank, the President announced that
a brother member would favour the company with a dis-
course, which he had been appointed to deliver. This was
listened to with profound attention, and received with loud
applause. We have been kindly promised a copy of this
discourse, which we shall place before our readers next
week, satisfied that it will be the means of converting many
of them to the noble sports of the rod, and of adding some-
thing, at least, to the amusement of all.

After the address was concluded, the remainder of the
toasts were drank.

2. The day and the occasion — Our first anniversary —
may we live in friendship and harmony to enjoy many
more.

3. The art of Angling — Of great antiquity and inge-
nuity— not to be catight by every Buckeye who attempts
to hook it.

4. IVater — The element of our art — " the eldest daugh-
ter of creation," and the mightiest of all.

5. Fish — In variety and numbers, the most wonderful of
the animal creation, and the source of food and amifsement
to man.

6. The memory of " honest Izaak Walton" — The
great " father of anglers" — celebrated alike for his skill in
the art, and his kind and benevolent nature.

7. The memory of Charles Cotton — The experienced
angler, and adopted son of honest Izaak.

8. The memory of IVynkin de TVorde, of the 14th cen-
tury— Author of the first known treatise on angling.

9. Our brother Anglers throughout the world — "May
their course be as clear as the stream that they love."

10. Our Country and its Institutions — May they who
plot against either, be caught in their own i^ets.

11. The memory of JVashington.

12. The members of the " Pittsburg Angling Club"
— May their tackle and their luck never fail them.

13. The Schuylkill Fishing Company— Si'iW flourish-
ing in full vigor at the advanced age of 98 — a bright exam-
ple of sociability and uninterrupted harmony.

14. The Fair — "Fishers of men."

A number of volunteer toasts were drank, of a technical
and spirited kind. Among them tiie President of the Club
and the Orator of the day were " freshly remembered." At
dark, the company retired from the table, and spent the
evening pleasantly together. After breakfast, next morn-
ing, a part of them returned to the city; a few stopped at

the Miami and angled for an hour or two, with such suc-
cess, as to increase the vi'hole number of fish taken on the
occasion, io four hundred and thirty-eight.

It gives us much pleasure to bear testimony to the order,
cheerfulness, and strict propriety of deportment, on the
part of the members of the Club, which prevailed through-
out the whole of this pleasant and healtliful excursion; and
we doubt not that all our readers, could Ihey have partaken
of the Fres'idenVsfvc pound Bass, would unite with us in
wishing, in the language of "honest old Izaak," that " M«
east wind may never blow, when" the Cincinnati Angling
Club ''go a fishing."

An Address, delivered by appointment, before the Cincinnati Angling Club,
at their late Anniversary. By a Member. Published by order of tlie Club.

It hath long, my brethren, been a source of regret to the
friends of the fame and prosperity of the goodly city of Cin-
cinnati— a city, wherein arc to be found many of the most
philanthropic men of our age, as well as a numerous body
of those who are skilful and deservedly eminent in almost
all the avocations of life, and where most of the liberal arts
and sciences receive countenance and encouragement — that
the science of ichthyology has not, in that city, heretofore,
been enabled to obtain the aid which it might derive from
the exertions of a well-organized body of anglers; that the
lovers of the manly and primitive amusement of angling
have suffered their favourite sport to be carried on in a
loose and desultory manner, without order or system; and
that the heart-hardening pursuits of wealth, the strife-engen-
dering devotion to party-politics, and a degrading submission
to the enervating influence of idleness, should have engross-
ed so much of the time and talents that might be far more
pleasantly and profitably spent in the healthful and cheering
exercise of angling.

It has been a source of regret, that those relaxations from
the more severe and important duties of this life which our
nature requires, have been suffered to remain under the in-
fluence of chance, and subject to the control of accident,
instead of being, as they ought to be, philosophically re-
gulated, so as to be productive of the influences they are
designed to exert upon our characters and our happiness.
It is, however, highly gratifying to me, to be, at length,
enabled to congratulate you, my brethren, upon the com-
mencement of a new era in the history of our city, — an era
forming the establishment of the Cincinnati Angling Club,
— through whose exertions we trust that the reproach of
such a state of things as has heretofore existed in relation
to our amusements, will be wiped away, and a barrier placed
against the inroads of effeminacy and vice into the most im-

256

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

portant periods of life — the hours of relaxation and social
enjoyment. I felicitate you upon the organization of a so-
ciety, whose exertions will show to our fellow citizens, that
the finny treasures of our waters have not been bestowed
upon us in vain; that they are not, by all the members of
our community, unheedingly and unthankfully neglected:
but that the lovers of science, the lovers of good eating, the
lovers of health and good manhood, and the lovers of good
tempers and cheerful dispositions, are enabled to reckon
among the many advantages enjoyed by our city, the pos-
session of a society whose objects are to increase the quan-
tum of all these good things, to develope the various resour-
ces of our waters —

"To dive into the bottom of the deep;"

" And pluclt up" bass and salmon on our hooks :

and, in short, to render available that portion of the boun-
ties of Providence, of which a too exclusive attention to
terrestrial affairs has hitherto caused an unwarrantable ne-
glect.

It has formerly been a mooted question among the philo-
sophers and men of science, "what is {par-excellence) the
use of rivers?" The answer given by the celebrated Brind-
ley is doubtless familiar to you all, viz. : " To feed naviga-
ble canals." The correctness of this answer has been ques-
tioned by many; and honest Izaak Walton, had he been re-
quired to give an answer to it, would probably have given
the following, viz.: "To feed the lovers of good eating
with delicacies which the earth does not produce." There
are, doubtless, many worthy men, whose answer to this
question would be, that the principal use of rivers is to
afford a theatre for the display of the locomotive powers of
the steam engine. Since the discovery of rail-roads, how-
ever, many are of opinion that they are scarcely needed for
this purpose. But no discovery can ever be made which
will supercede the necessity and utility of rivers to fisher-
men. Many other answers to this question have been
given, which I will not fatigue you by relating, but pro-
ceed to state the answer which ive may give to this question
whenever it may be propounded to us, with confidence that
it cannot be controverted; and which is, — ^that the use of
rivers is to nourish and preserve materials for the display
of the skill and talents of the Cincinnati Angling Club.

The neglect of the wealth of our rivers has been a just
theme of reproach to the inhabitants of the Western coun-
try in general. So great has been this neglect, that when
a certain erudite and profound professor undertook to enu-
merate and describe the fishes of the Ohio, he discovered
many species which were utterly unknown to any of our
citizens — many, indeed, which to this day, remain unknown
to all but this learned philosopher himself. Of a renowned

hero of former times, the celebrated Tom Thumb, it was
said that " he made the giants he killed;" and it has been
said in like manner of our learned Doctor in Philosophy,
that he made many of the fishes he described. Whether he
was entitled to this additional honour, could not, in conse-
quence of the lamentable defect of public curiosity at that
time, be determined. Had an organized club of expert
anglers, like ours, then been in existence, all doubts on the
subject might have been removed, and the world at large
might have awarded to the learned Professor that honour
which at present is bestowed upon him only by some of his
most zealous friends; the honour, namely, of having made,
as well as described, a great number of his fishes of the
Ohio. It is said to have been the practice of many valiant
generals, to give existence, upon paper, to a vast number of
the enemies whom they slew, and thereby reap the renown
of destroying, if not of making them : and the learned ichthy-
ologist, who does not seek the honour of killing his fishes,
ought not certainly to be deprived of giving them all the
existence they ever possessed.

It is truly lamentable to observe the great and increasing
neglect of the finny tribes, by all the people of modern
times; and it is worthy of inquiry, whether it be not to
this neglect that we are to attribute the amazing degenera-
cy of fishes since the days of the ancient philosophers — de-
generacy both in bodily size and intellectual endowments.
In respect to the first of these qualifications, it appears that
they acquired the highest degree of celebrity under the im-
perial patronage of the Roman rulers; and to such magnifi-
cent dimensions did they attain, that the Roman Senate, as
history informs us, was called upon, among other grave and
weighty deliberations, to admire the parts and proportions
of one that was deemed worthy, in consequence of its ex-
traordinary size and beauty, of the Emperor's table alone;
and therefore worthy the attention of that august body, the
Senate of Imperial Rome. But with respect to their men-
tal qualities, they appear to have arrived at their highest
point of perfection at an earlier period. Plutarch gives us
information of certain tribes of fishes, that were in the habit
of displaying very profound knowledge of the mathematical
sciences, and of the art of perspective; and Pliny and Aris-
totle, as well as many other ancient philosophers, record
many instances of their profound knowledge in other
branches of science. Their correct appreciation of theolo-
gical instructions is recorded in the history of Saint An-
thony, whose preaching

" They thronged to hear, the legend tells,
" Were edified, and wagged their tails."

But since that period, since the time when all learning and
science were overshadowed by the gloom of the dark ages,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

257

we have little or no evidence of their cultivation of any of
the various branches of knowledge. Even the art of naviga-
tion, in which they might naturally be expected most to ex-
cel, they appear to neglect far more than is proper; for we
find that the salmon do not now visit many of our rivers,
(the Connecticut, for instance,) to which they formerly re-
sorted with great regularity; and the shad do not display
that spirit of adventurous roving which we should be glad
to see them exhibit, by paying annual visits to the Ohio;
which, doubtless, they would do, if they possessed that ex-
tent of knowledge and good taste which, according to the
authors to whom we have referred, characterized them in
ancient times.

It has lately been proposed by an esteemed and respecta-
ble author in our city, that some measures be taken to in-
struct certain tribes of fishes in such branches of knowledge
as would induce them to emigrate to our western waters,
where, we have no doubt, they may be as much improved
in their circumstances as the emigrants to the western lands,
and it is to be hoped that the suggestions of this valuable
author may receive the attention they merit. It is little to
the credit of the citizens of the west, that their attention is
exclusively devoted to terrestrial affairs, that the aquatic
portions of our country are almost totally neglected; and
instead of receiving a share of attention equal to their
importance, have been abandoned to the management of
those who looked but little below the surface of their sub-
ject, and who are ignorant of the habits, qualities, and capa-
bilities of the inhabitants of our western waters. No cares
have ever been bestowed upon them, tending to their im-
provement; and no system of management has ever been
adopted, by which their most valuable tribes might be en-
couraged, and their numbers increased. On the contrary,
many of them have never even received such names as are
befitting fishes; but have been obliged to bear the cast-off
names of land animals, such as buffaloes, red-horses, black-
horses, cats, &c., names which are totally unfit, and, indeed,
quite insulting, when applied to the inhabitants of our rivers,
who are as fairly entitled to names of their own, as any of
the quadrupeds or bipeds on land; — to names that are ap-
propriate and descriptive — suitable for fishes of respectable
rivers. I trust that this matter will receive the attention of
this worthy society, as some other subjects, which very
justly claim our earliest care, and which I am confident will
not be neglected, I mean the attention of each individual to
those personal qualifications that are necessary to qualify
him for excellence in the important art of angling.

In a paragraph recently republished in our journals, from
an English paper, the author, referring to the expected emi-
gration of the late king of France, Charles X., to the Uni-
ted States, suggested the idea, that he, and the former king
3 T

of Spain, who had long been a resident in this country, may
angle in the same streams, &c., a suggestion which exhibits
a more correct appreciation by its author, of the important
art of angling, than of the character of the person whom he
supposed might be led to cultivate it in America; and noth-
ing but that blind devotion to kings, which leads men to
attribute to them none but elevated sentiments and enno-
bling pursuits, could have inspired the idea that a man of the
character of Charles X. could take delight in the sport of
angling. A man like him, tyrannical, oppressive, bigoted,
and wrong-headed, is of a character the very reverse of that
of a genuine angler. The kings of modern times, have, in-
deed, none of them those characteristics which would enti-
tle them to membership in the Cincinnati Angling Club:
and it is therefore to be hoped that the work of reform may
not end in France, but go on until governments cease to be
oppressive, and rulers possess t'^at spirit of patient persever-
ance in their duties which characterizes the real angler.
My brethren, — kings have seldom been anglers — they have
seldom possessed those high and ennobling qualities which
lead to a cultivation of this pursuit, and therefore the world
has no further need of them. Especially, we want no kings
nor ex-kings in these United States. Prophets and Apostles
have been fishers; but kings and emperors have seldom pos-
sessed sufficient good taste to imitate them: and although
there is one sovereign in Europe who professes to be their
successor, and still retains among his insignia some fishing
implements; yet the testimony of history proves that Popes
are more like kings than like Anglers or Apostles, and are
therefore too degenerate to be of any use in this world. We
trust that also they will be dismissed, with other useless in-
cumbents of office, in order that the dignity which should
belong to the employment of a real fisherman, may not be
degraded by the proud pretensions of the occupants of the
Papal throne to the character of fishers. For they are men
who for centuries have not practised nor encouraged the
angler's art, and have only honoured it by external display
— men who differ little from kings and other dignitaries,
that despise or neglect those qualities in their fellow men
which are most essential to their health and happiness, and
who uphold and cherish the sickly, indolent, and useless
portion of their species, more than the manly, robust, and
useful.

But of kings and potentates we have said enough — more
than they deserve, since they only serve as warnings to us,
to avoid the vices by which their characters are degraded,
by which they not only become unfitted for piscatorial ex-
ercises and duties, but are even, probably, rendered so efie-
minate and worthless, as not even to wish to partake of
them. It is far more pleasant to speak of men who are en-
nobled by the qualities of the mind and heart, and not by

258

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

the accidents of birth and fortune; men who are superior to
any of the dignities of public stations, and worthy to be
classed among the examples for anglers to follow. Of these,
the good old patriarch of fishermen, Izaak Walton, to whose
name the epithet of "honest" is universally attached, as
comprehending in it, numerous and varied virtues, will
most readily occur to you all; and with him will naturally
be associated in your minds, his friend and disciple, the
worthy Cotton, the imitator of his virtues, and associate of
his fame. To their characters the world has learned to do
justice; and to them it is chiefly indebted for the means of
justly appreciating the pursuits of the angler. Their names
and their fame are familiar and dear to us all.

By the death of the celebrated Sir Humphrey Davy, not
only have the cultivators of the sciences, but the lovers of
angling, lost a friend, whose good taste and highly culti-
vated mind induced him to give that preference to their
favourite sport, to which he is entitled, and led him to value
his own fame as an angler more highly than the celebrity
which he acquired from all other sources; and the last of
his works — those works which have not only immortalized
his own name, but added to the glory of the nation and the
age in which he lived — bears testimony to the pleasure
which he derived from, and the esteem in which he held,
this manly and honourable recreation.

Of Sannazarious, Davors, Chalkhill, Markham, Wynkin
de Worde, and many other worthies, I regret that we have
so few memorials preserved that we cannot make our minds
familiar with their characters. Their respect for our art is,
however, a proof of their merit, an assurance that their cha-
racters were amiable — and presumptive evidence of the
soundness of their minds. Cut it is unnecessary to bring
forward any examples to the members of this club for the
purpose of showing them what are the virtues they ought
to cultivate. You all know that both your tempers should
be smooth and uniform — that, as your manners, so should
your rods be, graceful, and adapted to the occasion that calls
them out into use — that your hooks, like your wits, should be
sharp, and carefully guarded, that they may not hurt either
yourselves or you friends; that your fishing tackle in gen-
eral, as well as your domestic affairs, should always be kept
in good order, and receive all the attention which you are
required by your duty to pay. In short, that you should ex-
hibit to the community such examples of the social and civil
virtues as are befitting those who are worthy to be mem-
bers of this honourable club.
My brethren.

Although the chief object of our association is to spend in
healthful and rational recreation, those hours of relaxation
from the toils and labours of life, which the constitution of
our nature requires; yet our recreations are not those which

abase or degrade the faculties of either mind or body, but
on the contrary, they are such as give to each that salutary
exercise which is essential to its preservation and improve-
ment. They are such as inspire a love of nature and of
nature's works — a keen susceptibility to her beauties, and a
lively enjoyment of her varied bounties. These are the
legitimate sources of human pleasures. They are the plea-
sures of the angler. For the enjoyment of such gratifica-
tions, he adjures the influence of sloth and idleness, as you
all have done on the present occasion, and goes forth as soon
as the "high lawns appear" "under the opening eyelid of
the morn," and long before " the star of day" flames "in
the forehead of the morning sk}'," enjoying the delights of
invigorated health and the anticipations of successful exer-
tions. The vigor of body, the elasticity of mind which he,de-
rives from early exercise — the excitement of hope, the view
of the beauties of nature, which he has learned justly to ap-
preciate, and the sounds of the varied " melodies of morn,"
all combine to excite feelings of the highest order of enjoy-
ment, feelings which tend to make him, on his return to
duties and his employments, a more amiable and more use-
ful man. For such pleasure and such sentiments as he cul-
tivates, are not those which excite the desire of concentrat-
ing in self, all the good things of life, and all the gratifica-
tions which are presented to his view, but on the contrary,
their tendency is to strengthen and cherish tliose kindly af-
fections and warm charities which constitute all the value
of social life, — without which, existence would be a burthen,
and reason a curse.

The influence of our mode of recreation on the temper
and feelings, is healthful and benignant, softening their
asperities and correcting their deformities — exciting none
but benevolent wishes to our neighbours, and general phi-
lanthropy to mankind. Scandal, backbiting, all manner of
evil speaking, with all the diseases of querulous idleness,
are therefore incompatible ^vith the characters of those who
are worthy of the honourable certificate of membership in
the Cincinnati Angling Club, and any appearance of a dis-
position to indulge these vices, should be considered as
indicative of a diseased state of body and mind, which
ought to call forth renewed exertions and unceasing vigi-
lance, for its entire eradication.

It has been very correctly remarked, that men are civi-
lized by their amusements far more than by their serious
occupations, and these vices of which I have just spoken,
are among the strongest marks of defective civilization.
They will, therefore, doubtless, be excluded from this so-
ciety, and considered as decided proof of unworthiness of
its honours, and incapacity to partake in a suitable manner
of its enjoyments.

The pleasures of the social board, of which we have now

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

been partaking, are also legitimate and salutary enjoyments,
when, as in the present case, we are prepared for them by
exercise, and partake of them with temperance. The gra-
tification afforded by assembling, as we now do, to celebrate
our annual festival, is briglitened by the considerations that
the delicacies of the table which have formed the principal
portion of our repast, were obtained by our immediate exer-
tions— were the fruits of the recent display of our skill,
and we are taught by the additional satisfaction thus afiorded
us, how important it is to the full and perfect enjoyment of
any of the good things of this life, to possess a consciousness
that they have been acquired by our own labours. With-
out this feeling, every pleasure is imperfect; is insipid;
with it, scarcely any thing is too insignificant to increase
the sum of our happiness, and awaken those emotions which
give a zest to all the enjoyments of life.

GROUSE SHOOTING.

Messrs. Editors:

I have read, with exceeding great pleasure, several in-
teresting accounts of successful sporting in your Cabinet of
Natural History and American Rural Sports. I am ex-
tremely fond of field sports, and consider it an obligation
on every fair sportsman to contribute to a meritorious work
like yours, such facts or incidents, as may be the result of
his own experience or observation, during his hunting ex-
cursions.

Under this impression, I shall offer for your insertion, a
brief and unvarnished account of a few days Grouse shoot-
ing which I had this autumn, in company with my valued
friend and keen sportsman, Mr. E. P. of this city. We
left New York on the 14th of October; our destination was
a certain district in the honest and hospitable State of Penn-
sylvania; the particular locality, not being material to the
plot of my story, is not necessary to mention. After a plea-
sant, but very rapid journe}-, we arrived on the ground on
the 16th. I took no notes of things by the way, because
my mind and its thoughts were so fully occupied with anti-
cipations of success. On our arrival, we made inquiries
respecting the objects of our long journeying, the beautiful,
the inimitable Grouse! and we were informed that some
had been occasionally seen in the vicinity, but that (as we
well knew before) it required almost a native to find or kill
them. However, like most sportsmen, we possessed con-
ceit enough to believe ourselves competent for the enter-
prise we were about to undertake, and after inquiring whe-
ther a suitable person as a guide could be obtained, we were
directed to a man who was perfectly acquainted with the

country; and him, therefore, we accordingly engaged for
the purpose, and employed his services during the time we
remained. And, indeed, without giving a minute descrip-
tion of the man, to sum up all in one all-inclusive appella-
tion, our guide proved himself to be a perfect "Leather
Stocking;" keen eye, steady hand, natural integrity, and
standing six feet two, without his leggins.

Having thus arranged matters for the coming dawn, and
partaken of a sportsman's supper with an appetite which
needed no coaxing, which, with puffing away time with
the fragrant smoke of the soothing segar, and listening to
marvellous tales of hunting and fishing, we passed away the
hours pleasantly enough, until the last candle in the house
was nearly burnt out, and the buxom old landlady sat bob-
bing for next morning, as an Indian would at gnats.

The next morning broke forth in that enchanting splen-
dour, which so particularly characterises one of our autumnal
days. The mellow light, softening every object that it
touched, rested upon the interminable forests and gilded the
mountain sides, tinged as they were with every variety of
magnificent colours.

Our honest guide was at the door; we were equipped,
and all impatience to touch the feathers of the king of our
American feathered game. We sallied forth into the oak-
crowned hills, with our two setter dogs, ]\Iack and Dash, and
by an early hour in the afternoon we bagged five brace of
heavy Grouse. The weather proving warmer than we anti-
cipated, we decided, after the most sober consultation, not
to go out the next day, fearing that if we killed more they
would spoil. We, therefore, contented ourselves by going
a trouting, our guide having awakened our curiosity by
offering to exhibit his method of taking that shy fish. I
consider it advisable not to describe this novel plan, because
it is contrary to the rules of true sport, and the fish are
taken by it so rapidly, and in such quantities, that, if gene-
rally adopted, it would tend to exterminate the species.
After he had taken about a dozen Trout in a very few mi-
nutes, we prevailed upon him to desist from his unsports-
manlike poaching. As there were some wood ducks in
the vicinity, I tried, at our guide's suggestion, for that
beautiful bird with his long gun. And here I would re-
mark, that those Pennsylvania Highlanders never turn out
of doors without these long guns, which, by much expe-
rience, they well know how to use. We started but two
Ducks; one, a fine Wood Duck, I killed while passing by
a still and lonely pond, among the silent woods, which is
ever a favourite haunt of that timid bird. Our guide killed
the other, which he called a White-belly, of a very fair
kind. In this manner, we spent our second day.

The ensuing morning we started again for the scrub-oaks,
and had excellent sport. We bagged eight brace more of

THE CABINET OF NATURAI HISTORY

fine Grouse, and, from appearances this day, we had reason
to calculate upon a continuation of success on the morrow.
We were not disappointed, for by ten o'clock the next
morning, we had secured three brace more; but the sun
coming out very warm, or, as our worthy guide remarked,
" rather hottish," we concluded to start for New York, in
order that we might carry our birds home in good order.
We arrived in our fair city on the 22d, highly gratified
with our excursion, and had the pleasure of surprising our
sporting friends, with rather an uncommon show of prime
game. J. S.

New York, Nov. 10, 1831.

HABITS OF THE RUFFED GROUSE, OR PHEASANT.

(Tetrao umbellus.)

On reading the anecdote of Professor Green in your in-
teresting work some time since, on the stupidity of this
bird, it brought strongly to my recollection the fact of
having seen a fine male of the species, confined in a wooden
cage, in the possession of Isaac Deniston, Esq., of this city,
which had been taken a few days previous under circum-
stances very similar. This was in the fall of 1814, it was
discovered early in the morning seated in the piazza near
the door of that gentleman's dwelling, and without difliculty
made captive. This bird was kept about one week and
then presented to a friend residing in Greenbush, opposite
the city, here it remained about the same length of time,
when by some accident it perished.

In conversing on the subject, a few days since, with a
friend of mine in this city, a genuine sportsman and an ac-
curate observer of every thing appertaining to the sports of
the field, he informed me that, about three years since,
in the fall of the year, being on a shooting excursion in the
neighbourhood of Claverack, Columbia countj^. New York,
he obtained a fine living specimen of this bird, from a gen-
tleman residing at that place, who stated to him, that it had
been captured a day or two previous by one of his domes-
tics, in the cellar-way of his dwelling. This was brought
with him to the city; in a few days it began to droop, and
died in the space of a week of its confinement. In both of
these eases, the individuals who captured them were of
opinion, they had been frightened by a hawk or some other
bird of prey.

Early in the morning of a severe cold day in the winter,
about fifteen years since, I saw a number of lads pelting with
frozen flakes of snow some object which had taken its sta-
tion on the roof of a one story dwelling, situated in the old-

est and most populous part of our city. On observing it
attentively, I discovered it to be a Rufied Grouse; it sat near
the chimney, as if dozing, apparently unconscious of the
many missiles which flew in every direction about it; one
at length struck it lightly on the wing, it stretched forth its
neck a moment, as if for recollection — shook its plumage —
glid silently over the house, and disappeared from my sight.

The winter was remarkably severe. A large quantity of
snow had fallen, and entirely covered the ground for an
unusual space of time; when the spring returned and nat .re
had once more put forth her bloom, the farmers in the
vicinity were astonished at discovering a considerable num-
ber of the bones and partially decayed carcases of this spe-
cies of Grouse, strewed along the hedges, and in the deep
woods in the neighbourhood of their dwellings.* This
mortality they attributed to their usual food being buried
too deep beneath the snow for them to obtain access to, con-
sequently, they perished from hunger. On learning this
fact, during the following summer, and hearing it repeatedly
since that time, I naturally concluded that this bird had
been compelled to seek among the habitations of man, the
food necessary for its existence, which nature had denied it
elsewhere. I have now no doubt but its appearance in the
city, was more properly occasioned by the annoyance of
some bird of prey.

Yours, &c.

JAMES EIGHTS.

Mbany, Nov. \, 1831.

BASS FISHING IN THE WEST.

Messrs. Editors:

There is an excellent essay on the "Usefulness of Sport-
ing," in your first number, under the signature of "J. T.
S." in which I agree most cordially with the writer, except
where he stiles Angling a "mild, subdued, snA feminine
exercise." It may be so in the East, but here, in the West,
it is altogether a different business.

Who, in the vicinity of our "great Western Emporium,"
has not heard of the "Cincinnati Angling Club," and its
exploits among the "finny tribe?" None, I will venture
to say, can follow a party from this Club on a fishing ex-
cursion, for a single day, without feeling the intense excite-
ment created in the members by the delightful and manly
exercise of "Bass Fishing," and entering fully into the
enjoyment of a sport, which is every thing but "femi-
nine."

Thia I have recently understood was also the case la-st spring.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

261

As you have never partaken of a clay's sport with the
Club, I will give you a brief sketch of their usual excur-
sions.

Some four or five of the members, as leisure or conve-
nience permits, (for they never suffer this amusement to
interfere with business avocations,) select, with the best
skill, a good day, and an early hour is fixed for starting
on the day chosen, say 3 o'clock in the morning. Precisely
at the time and place appointed, (for it is made a point of
honour to be punctual) the members assemble, " furnished
and equipped" as their by-laws direct, and set out in their
fishing dearborns, for the great Miami, about sixteen
miles distant. After a "Jehu-like" drive of three or four
hours, in the greatest glee, they arrive at the fishing
grounds, and prepare for the day's sport.

In the first place, the minnow bait must be caught; a
net is produced; two of the members bounce into the water
up to the middle, and soon procure bait enough for the
whole party, of the "real shiners" and "leather-mouths."
Then, about sun rise, the fishing commences. The place
selected for Bass is generally in the swift water under mill
dams, or in deep rocky holes near them. The angler wades
into the water, or sits on a rock or log, (the first is gene-
rally preferred, for no "real Bass Angler" feels like fish-
ing, unless wet to the waist-band.) There is great emula-
tion to take the first fish, it being considered a good
omen. The sport commenced, the party continue with
untiring patience until about 10 o'clock, when they par-
take of a frugal breakfast of bread and ham, or something
in that way, moistened with a little good wine, for ..'hich
all good anglers have a relish. The meal partaken with
cheerfulness, and an appetite which active exercise never
fails to create, is enlivened by a recital of the exploits of
the morning, which, with good luck, may amount to twen-
ty or thirty fish.

The sport is resumed with redoubled energy, until three,
o'clock when the party dine, much in the same manner as
they breakfast. About five in the afternoon, after putting
on dog-cloths, they start for home, and arrive near nine,
with generally one hundred to one hundred and eighty fine
Bass, weighing each from an half to three pounds, the great-
est number of middle size, having travelled upwards of
thirty miles, and fished faithfully for nine or ten hours.
Now, if there is any thing "feminine" in all this, I have
mistaken the term.

Some of the members take excursions of two or three
days at a time, and lodge in the neighbouring farm houses
at night, or encamp on the banks of the river, as the hardy
" hunters of the West" have often done before them. Surely
this is not "feminine."

The Bass is a beautiful fish, with its dark olive back and
3U

golden sides; none, for the table, can be more delicious. It
bites readily at the minnow bait, and is considered by
" the fancy'" to be an "exceeding ^g-awze fish," frequently
springing two or three feet out of the water when hooked,
and affording the most delightful sport to the angler. He
who is fortunate enough to hook a four or five pound Bass,
has to exert his utmost skill to secure the fish and save his
tackle from destruction. It runs off with the line like a
young whale, and without the reel, it would be im-
possible for the angler to tire his fish sufficiently to
land him. But when he is taken, what rejoicing it
excites in the Club, and with what pleasure does the secre-
tary record, "a five pound Bass landed by President H. or
Counsellor G. after a most arduous though skilful and inter-
esting struggle of thirty-five and an half minutes."

Our principal and best fishing is in the fall season,
after the first early frosts, and during the Indian sum-
mer, that pride and boast of our western autumns; then
it is indeed a delightful and healthy recreation.

A complete record of the proceedings of the Club is kept,
and the taste for angling, which is continually increasing
among the members, together with the strictest propriety
of conduct, which, even without their rules, would always
be observed, give promise that this association will endure
with the lives of the members, and be continued by their
descendants for ages, while the Bass inhabit the waters, or
a taste for angling is cherished.

PISCATOR.

NEWLY INVENTED RIFLE.

This Rifle was invented, and a patent taken out for the
same, in the year 1829, by Mr. J. Millar of Rochester, N.
Y. The patentee, who is not a Rifle manufacturer by trade,
(but has adopted it as his business only within a short
period, and has now in his employ, several excellent work-
men,) is an experienced hunter, and his experience fre-
quently pointed out to him, the necessity of an improve-
ment in the common Rifle, in order to be more successful
after game; consequently, this laid the foundation of the
improvement, or invention of the gun of which we are now
about to speak. This Rifle, in the neighbourhood of the
inventor, is designated by the name of the " Seven Shot
Rifle," and differs from the ordinary gun, by having a re-
volving breech, capable of containing seven distinct charges,
and which by touching a small spring, revolves successively
as the gun is discharged, until the whole are fired ofi".

As each chamber in the breech is of the exact bore of the
calibre of the gun, and is brought in the revolution with

262

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

a direct line of the barrel, it can be discharged with aston-
ishing rapidity, and with the same precision and effect as
the most perfect among the ordinary Rifles.

As I felt much interest in this newly invented gun, the
proprietor took some pains to test its correctness and utility
on several occasions, in my presence, and the result was of
the most satisfactory kind, and which I firmly believe, will
in a great measure supplant the common gun, especially for
the purposes of war, and hunting large game. The de-
mand, however, for the present, is greater than the means
of supply, but as the manufacturer has it in contemplation
to enlarge his establishment, he will be able to supply any
orders which may be sent to him.

The price varies from 45 to 100 dollars each; as however,
a more perfect account of it is contained in his "patent," I
have selected that part of it, on which his right is founded,
that alone differing from the common Rifle.

" The fundamental principles, or what may be termed the
basis of this machine, and that which constitutes the skele-
ton and main support of this invention, is a circular piece
about five eighths of an inch thick, with an axle made of one
solid piece; on this axle a cylindrical magazine is made to re-
volve, and is closely fitted to the face of this circular piece, this
circular piece forms a cap to the magazine; in the face of this
cap there is a recess of sufficient dcptli to admit a piece of deer
skin or spunge, which serves to lubricate the joint with oil,
which is kept close to an air tight joint, by a strong nut
and screw, on the hinder end of the axle. There is an
clongatinn of this axle, which passes into the breech and is
fastened by a screw pin passing through it, into the lower
part of the break off piece; this break off piece extends over
the magazine on top, about a half inch wide, and one six-
teenth of an inch thick, and terminating in a crotch, and is
let into the edge of the cap or flange, which projects in form
of a fillet beyond the magazine, and is fastened by two
screws; this piece gives additional strength and stability to
the breech. Between the centre and the periphery of this
cap or flange, the main barrel is inserted so as to form a line
with the top of the magazine, and corresponds with the ca-
libre of the magazine in its operations, this operation is ad-
justed by a spring and catch fixed in the lower edge of the
cap and juts into gains cut in the edge of the magazine, and
is easily relieved by the finger, while the revolving cham-
bers turn backward or forward at pleasure. This magazine
contains seven distinct chambers of suflicient depth for a
full charge, independent of each other. The loading of
these may be performed through the main barrel or through
the cap, as fancy dictates. These seven chambers, when load-
ed and primed, may be discharged distinctly in twenty
seconds. In the arrangement of this gun, there is safety
and certainty in its operations.

" The lock adapted to this kind of fire arms, is of the per-
cussion kind, and where the percussion pin strikes the mag-
azine, the fuse hole is drilled a little obliquely so as to
meet the calibre.

" The improvements relied on in this machine, consists in
the simplicity of its construction, and everyway adapted to
hunting and war purposes." J. D.

DICK LINGER'S ATTEMPT AT A STEEPLE CHASE.

My schoolfellow, Dick Linger, wgs never ready for any
thing but his dinner: I sa)' his dinner, for he was always
too late for every body's else. He was a loiterer from his
very birth, for he came sauntering into the world on the day
on which his youngest brother had completed his fifteenth
year. He was, of course, his mother's pet and his father's
darling, and, by consequence, the plague of the whole
house. At school he obtained the soubriquet of Dilatory
Dick: he was last up in the morning, and, at night, every
boy in his room was in bed, and the candle put out, before
Dick had divested himself of half his clothes; and many a
time has he awakened his bed-fellow from his first sleep by
driving his toe into his eye, or doing him in the dark, as
the law hath it, some other grievous bodily harm. At
cricket he was usually bowled out by the second or third
ball, for he never struck at it till it had passed him; and,
when it was his turn to look out, he walked after it as if he
had been following a funeral or going to be whipped. Nay,
he was behind-hand even in mischief; for, if any expedi-
tion against a neighbouring orchard was undertaken, Dick
usually contrived to arrive just in time to be seized b}' the
proprietor and handed over to condign punishment, while
his companions ran off with the booty. From his procras-
tinating habits, as well as from the circumstance of his being
so frequently flogged for the delinquencies of others, he was
facetiously termed the fail of the school. On one occasion,
I remember, on which lie had contrived to introduce him-
self to the mill-pond, he remained such a tediously long
time under water, that, if one of his comrades had not gone
down after him, I verily believe he would never have come
up at all.

He would, doubtless, have been a scholar of no mean ac-
quirements had he remained a sufficient time at his studies;
but happening to be taken from school at eighteen, the poor
fellow had no chance. I remember that, although we
started in the classics together, and I was no fire-eater, I
was construing Horace while he was wearing out his second
Corderius, and conjugating "amo" with infinitely more
complacency than success. His attempts at conjugation in

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

arter-life were equally unfortunate, since he lost an opportu-
nity of getting a rich wife, because, although he made three
several attempts on as many days, he could never manage
to get to church within canonical hours.

Luckily, however, for Richard, as he was the last of his
family in coming into the world, he contrived to be the last
to go out of it, and consequently succeeded to the property
of those of his brothers and sisters who had not resorted to
matrimony as a mode of relieving the monotony of life; and
tiius it happened, that, while he was deliberating upon
which of the professions he should adorn, he was saved the
trouble of farther debate by being placed in easy circum-
stances for life. Never was any man more rejoiced at being
left to follow the bent of his own inclination; which, how-
ever, he did as he performed every thing else, quite at his
leisure. He was fond of hunting, and subscribed to a pack
of excellent fox-hounds, but he could never contrive to be
at the place of meeting in time to see them throw off; so
that, after an hour's hard riding, he usually met them on
their return to kennel.

In a moment of extraordinary excitement, Richard was
induced to ride a steeple chase — not for the sake of the
wager, for he would not have ridden a third of the distance
for thrice the money, but simply for the gratification of the
whim of the moment. The idea of Dick's riding a race of
any kind was so utterly preposterous that it attracted the
attention of the whole country, and innumerable were the
bets to which it gave rise; since, although there were many
who were ready to lay upon the acknowledged excellence of
Richard's horse, there were quite as many who would have
staked their fortunes upon the dilatoriness of the rider; and
among the latter were his two opponents, who it was sus-
pected had engaged to siiare the profit or loss of the adven-
ture. They had cunningly covenanted that they should start
at a particular hour, and that they should not wait for each
other's arrival. The event justified their prudence in
making this proviso, for Richard appeared at the starting-
post just two minutes after his antagonists had quitted it,
puffing away, not from want of breath, but by reason of a
cigar. "Good morning to you. Gentlemen," said Richard
to a host of persons who had gathered about the spot, as he
quietly dismounted and began to tighten his saddle-girths;,
while his horse, deeming them tight enough before, showed
its sense of Dick's oiBciousness by a smart bite, which, if it
had included cuticle as well as broad cloth, might have ma-
terially interfered with the comfort of his ride.

"Make haste, my good fellow, or you'll lose the race,"
exclaimed a by-stander, who, having staked a round sum
upon Richard's horse, was almost frantic at beholding the
owner's imperturbable deliberation.

"Wait while I light another cigar," responded Dick, igni-
ting a piece of German tinder, which he began to blow with
great energy, and looking upon the anxious faces around
him with the greatest complacency imaginable. When,
however, he got into the saddle, he appeared determined on
making up for lost time, and set off in good earnest. He
was an excellent horseman, and a bold one; but two minutes
in a race, like an inch in a man's nose, are no trifle. His
horse, though, was a regular fencer; and, in the course of
the next five minutes, cleared three quickset hedges, a
market woman, and a gipsy's donkey, and Dick was evi-
dently gaining ground upon his precursors. But he was
destined never to be before-hand in anything. There stood
the steeple, within half-a-mile of him, and, midway be-
tween, a rising ground which his rivals were just mounting,
and soon disappeared behind it. Dick put spurs to his horse,
and arrived on the summit of the hillock just in time to
catch a glimpse of the foremost equestrian, who was show-
ing him a "clean pair of heels," the only visible part of
him; and they, as in duty bound, were following his head
and shoulders to the bottom of a deep and rapid river, of
which the party in advance either were previously ignorant,
or, like others who have taken the shadow for the substance,
were mis-led by the reflection of the desired steeple in the
water, and determined to arrive at the gaol per snltum.
While Richard, who was somewhat slow in comprehending
matters, was wondering at the extraordinary feat, his eye
glanced towards his other antagonist, who was practically
explaining to him the mode in which it had been accom-
plished, by sliding over the nose of his horse in the same
antipodean fashion. Dick, however, who had already suf-
fered from his proximity to his horse's nose, pursued an
opposite course, and pulling the animal up — that is, perpen-
dicularly upon his hind legs — he slid over its tail, after his
old habits of being always behind, and thus regained terra
firma.

Richard, who was a good-natured fellow, and had no no-
tion of his opponents stopping short in the church-j'ard on
their way to the steeple, hastily tied his horse to a tree, and
proceeded to angle for them with the thong of his hunting-
whip: but not succeeding in getting a bite, he tried the hook
at the butt-end, and, at length fished them both out. Their
horses had taken care of themselves, and were quietly
grazing in a meadow on the opposite bank. Dick, like a
good fellow as he was, stuck both his friends upon the back
of his own nag, and led them to the nearest inn, where he
left them with thirteen blankets on the outside of their
bodies, and two stiff glasses of brandy and water within.
Our hero, having previously fortified himself with a beef-
steak and a tankard of home-brewed, walked over the rest

264 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

of the course, at his leisure, in the cool of the evening, infi- solutions were submitted by Mr. Samuel Cornell, which,
nitely less gratified at winning his wager, than at the power after a brief discussion, were unanimously adopted.

he possessed of quoting one instance at least of the advan-
tages of being behind-hand.

Lon. Sport. Mag.

PRESERVATION OF THE QUAIL OR PARTRIDGE.

We are exceedingly gratified at the interest that prevails,
in various sections of our country, to preserve that interest-
ing, half domesticated bird, the Partridge; persons who,
heretofore, cared but little for these birds, seem now to take
so deep a concern in their protection, as to induce us to be-
lieve that one year more will, in a great measure, repair the
devastating effects of the past inclement winter.

We have heard, from well autlienticated sources, that
many farmers have concluded to entrap all the Partridges
on their respective places, and keep them until next spring,
then to be turned out again for propagation.

Some of the New York sportsmen, with a zeal, worthy
of great commendation, are making arrangements, on an
extensive scale, to purchase, and provide for during the
present winter — three thousand Partridges — and as we

Resolved, That in the opinion of this meeting, there are
at present no more Partridges in this neighbourhood than
are necessary for procreation.

Eesolved, That we will neither shoot, ensnare, or in any
manner kill any Partridges during the present season, and
that we will use all proper means for their protection during
the approaching winter.

Eesolved, That we will rigidly enforce the law against
every person who may be guilty of shooting any Partridges
on our property this season.

Eesolved, That the proceedings of this meeting be signed
by the Chairman and Secretary, and published.

DANIEL WALTON, Chairman.
Jacob Snyder, Seci-etary.
Nov. IS, 183L

THE MATCH FOR SlO,000.

NoKFOLK, Nov. 3. — The race of yesterday, over Garri-
son's course, attracted a fine companj', from the fame of the
understand have already contracted with persons for their horses announced to take part in the contest. Only three
delivery in New York, at so much per head. We would of the horses mentioned by us entered at the stand, Annette,
sayto the Philadelphia sportsmen, and those of other places. Bayard, and Chanticleer. The weather was remarkably
"Go thou and do likewise." fine, and the course in pretty order, and the betting, extra

Several meetings of the sportsmen in Philadelphia have of the purse, is believed to have equalled 010,000.
been called for this purpose, but as yet nothing definite has The following is the result, giving the purse to Col. John-

been done; and only a few evenings since, a call was made,
by different individuals, to sportsmen, to meet at two places,
the consequence was, nothing was done, and the good in-
tentions of those who first made the call, were completely
frustrated, by dividing the attention of sportsmen between
the two places.

Meetings have been called in various parts of the county,
solely for the purpose of endeavouring to protect the re-
mainder of this game from a recurrence of such disasters
as prevailed amongst it last winter.

And it gives us much pleasure to insert the following
notice, which has been freely circulated in most of our city
papers.

NOTICE TO SPORTSMEN.

At a meeting of the inhabitants of Oxford and Lower
Dublin Township, held at Sandy Hill, on Monday evening,
the 7th inst., Mr. Daniel Walton was called to the chair,
and Jacob Snyder appointed secretary. The following re-

son's Annette:

Mr. Johnson's Annette,
Mr. White's Bayard,
Mr. Wilson's Chanticleer,
Time — 1st heat 3m. 47^s.-

THB MATCH RACE FOR §4,000.

Nov. 4. — ^The Match Race for a purse of S4,000 was run
yesterday over Garrison's course. The contest was be-
tween Mr. Doswell's b. m. Sally Hornet, 5 years old, and
Mr. Wm. Wilson's bl. m. Bonny Black. Sally Hornet
proved more than a match for her competitor, and bore off
the purse.

The following is the award:
Mr. Doswell's Sally Hornet, 1 1

Mr. Wilson's Bonny Black, 2 2

Time— 1st heat 7m. 55s.— 2d heat 8m. 133.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

GREAT TAILED SQUIRREL.

SCIURUS 3MCE0URUS.

Sciurus macrourus. Say. non Gmelin, S. magnicau-
datus, Harlan. Griffith, Jin. king. S. macroureus,
GoDMAN. Am. Nat. Hist. Philadelphia Museum.

The Squirrels belong to the great order Glires or Gnawers,
and are distinguished, by their very compressed lower inci-
sors, and their long tail furnished with hair. They have
four toes on the anterior feet, and five on the posterior.
Sometimes the thumb of the fore feet is marked by a tu-
bercle. Their head is large, and their eyes prominent and
brilliant. The genus Sciurus, of Linnaeus, comprehends
many which have been considered, by modern Zoologists,
as possessing sufficient characters to be formed into other
genera. These are Tajiias Illiger, including the Ground
Squirrels, or those having cheek pouches; Pteromys, Cu-
vier, comprehending the Flying Squirrels, and Cheiromys,
Cuvier, of which there is but one species distinguished by
having much more compressed incisors, and five toes on
each of the feet, of which four of those on the anterior ex-
tremities are exceeding long.

The true or tree Squirrels, are distinguished by the ab-
sence of the lateral folds of skin which are found in the
Flying Squirrels, and the cheek pouches which characterise
the Tamias. In most of them, the tail is distichous, that is,
the hairs diverge on either side from a longitudinal medial
line. They are found in every part of the world in great
numbers, with the exception of New Holland.

Few animals are to be compared to the Squirrels for
beauty, and lightness of form, and grace and agility of
movements. Living on the loftiest trees, they bound from
limb to limb, with a rapidity that almost resembles flying.
Few animals also, especially among the smaller classes,
become so readily tamed, and submit with such apparent
contentment, to the loss of liberty, and a confinement so
widely different from their natural habits.

The true Squirrels of North America are by no means as
large, nor is the colour of their fur as rich as those species
inhabiting the eastern parts of Asia; with a few exceptions
they are of an ash grey colour of various shades, and the
specific peculiarities and markings by which they are dis-
tinguished, are so slight, that it is a task of no little difficulty
to ascertain the number of species inhabiting our forests.

The subject of our present plate was first described by
Mr. Say, in "Long's Expedition to the Rocky Mountains,"
from specimens found on the Missouri, where it is the most
common species. This gentleman described it under the
name of macrourus, without perhaps being aware that this
3 X

appellation had already been given by Gmelin to the Cey-
lon Squirrel; from this latter circumstance Dr. Harlan
changed the name to that of magnicaudatus, and Dr. God-
man macroureus; as, however, Cuvier states that the Cey-
lon Squirrel is identical with the great Indian Squirrel, S.
maximiis, Mr. Say's original name can still be retained
for this species.

We know little or nothing, of the habits or manners of
the Great Tailed Squirrel, though in all probability they
are analogous to those of the other American species. The
following description is drawn up from that of Mr. Say, aa
originally given:

The upper part of the body and sides are of an ash grey
colour mixed with black; the hairs are black at base, then
pale cinnamon, then black and finally ash gray, with a long
black tip. The ears, which are about three quarters of an
inch in length, are of a bright ferruginous colour behind,
this colour extends to the base of the hair, which, during
the winter, projects beyond the edge of the ear; on the in-
side, the fur is of a dull ferruginous hue, slightly tipped with
black. The sides of the head, as well as the orbits of the
eyes, are pale ferruginous ; and beneath the ears and eyes
the cheeks are dusky. The whiskers are disposed in five
series of slightly flattened hairs, the four lower series more
distinct. The mouth is surrounded with black, and the
teeth are of a reddish yellow colour. The under part of
the head and neck as well as the upper surface of the feet,
are ferruginous ; the belly is paler, approaching to a dusky
white, the fur being led colour at base.

The tail is of a bright ferruginous colour beneath, the
colour extending to the base of the fur, with a submarginal
black line. The upper part of the tail is a mixture of ferru-
ginous and black, the fur within is of a pale cinnamon colour
with the base and three bands black, the tip being ferrugi-
nous. The palms of the anterior feet are black, and the
tubercular thumb is furnished with a broad flat nail.

When the animal is in its summer dress, the fur on the
back is from three-fifths to seven-tenths of an inch in length;
whilst in the winter coat, the longest hairs on the middle
of the back are from one to one inch and three quarters
long, the colours, however, do not vary. From this differ-
ence in the length of the fur, and the greater proportion of
fat, the animal appears shorter and thicker than in summer.
The total length of this species, from the tip of the nose
to the end of the tBil,exclusiveof the hair, is nineteen inches
and three quarters, of which the tail makes nine inches and
a tenth. The tail is much larger and finer than in the com-
mon Grey Squirrel, [S. cinereus.)

Mr. Say observes, "This species was not an unfrequent
article of food at our frugal yet social meals at Engineer
Cantonment, and we could always immediately distinguish

266 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

the bones from those of other animals by their remarkable

red colour.'

This species does not appear to inhabit as far north as the
regions visited by Dr. Richardson, as that gentleman does
not mention it in his work: in all probability it is to be
found much further east than the Missouri, and been mis-
taken for a large specimen of the common Grey Squirrel,
with which it would be readily confounded by a casual ob-
server.

ANECDOTES OF THE SHEPHERD'S DOG.
Br Mk. Hogg.

There is no species of animals so varied in their natures
and propensities as the shepherd's dog, and these propen-
sities are preserved inviolate in the same breed from gene-
ration to generation. One kind will manage sheep about
hand, about a bught, shedding, or fold, almost naturally;
and those that excel most in this kind of service, are always
the least tractable at a distance ; others will gather sheep
from the hills, or turn them this way as they are command-
ed, as far as they can hear their master's voice, or note the
signals made by his hand, and yet can never be taught to
command sheep close around him. Some excel again in a
kind of social intercourse. They understand all that is said
to them, or of them, in the family; and often a good deal
that is said of sheep, and of other dogs, their comrades.
One kind will bite the legs of cattle, and no species of cor-
rection or disapprobation will restrain them, or ever make
them give it up; another kind bays at the head of cattle, and
neither precept nor example will ever induce them to attack
a beast behind, or bite its legs.

My uncle Hoy's kind were held in estimation over the
whole country for their docility in gathering sheep at a dis-
tance, but they were never very good at commanding sheep
about hand. Often have I stood with astonishment at see-
ing him standing on the top of one hill, and the Tub, as he
called an excellent snow-white bitch that he had, gathering
all the sheep from another with great care and caution. I
once saw her gathering the head of a hope, or glen, quite out
of her master's sight, while all that she heard of him was
now and then the echo of his voice or whistle from another
hill, yet, from the direction of that echo, she gathered the
sheep with perfect acuteness and punctuality.

I have often heard him tell another anecdote of Nimble;
that one drifty day in the seventy-four, after gathering the
ewes of Chapel-hope, he found that he wanted about an hun-

dred of them. He again betook him to the heights, and
sought for them the whole day without being able to find
them, and began to suspect that they were covered over
with snow in some ravine. Towards the evening it cleared
up a little, and as a last resource, he sent away Nimble.
She had found the scent of them on the hill while her master
was looking for them; but not having received orders to
bring them, she had not the means of communicating the
knowledge she possessed. But as soon as John gave her
the gathering word, she went away, he said, like an arrow
out of a bow, and in less than five minutes he beheld her at
about a mile's distance, bringing them round a hill, called
The Middle, cocking her tail behind them, and apparently
very happy at having got the opportunity of terminating her
master's disquietude with so much ease.

I once witnessed another very singular feat performed by
a dog belonging to John Graham, late tenant in Ashiesteel.
A neighbour came to his house after it was dark, and told
him that he had lost a sheep on his farm, and that if he
(Graham) did not secure her in the morning early, she
would be lost, as he had brought her far. John said, he
could not possibly get to the hill next morning, but if he
would take him to the very spot where he lost the sheep,
perhaps his dog Chieftain would find her that night. On
that they went away with all expedition, lest the traces of
the feet should cool; and I, then a boy, being in the house,
went with them. The night was pitch dark, which had
been the cause of the man losing his ewe; and at length he
pointed out a place to John, by the side of the water, where
he had lost her. "Chieftain, fetch that," said John, "bring
her back, sir." The dog jumped around and around, and
reared himself up on end, but not being able to see any
thing, evidently misapprehended his master; on which John
fell a cursing and swearing at the dog, calling him a great
many blackguard names. He at last told the man, that he
must point out the very track that the sheep went, other-
wise he had no chance of recovering it. The man led him
to a grey stone, and said, h'e was sure she took the brae
within a yard of that. "Chieftain, come hither to my foot,
you great numb'd whelp," said John. Chieftain came.
John pointed with his finger to the ground, "Fetch that, I
say, sir, you stupid idiot — bring that back away." The
dog scented slowly about on the ground for some seconds,
but soon began to mend his pace, and vanished in the dark-
ness. "Bring her back away, you great calf," vociferated
John, with a voice of exultation, as the dog broke to the
hill; and as all these good dogs perform their work in per-
fect silence, we neither saw nor lieard any more for a long
time. I think, if I rememijer right, we waited there about
half an hour; during which time, all the conversation was
about the small chance that the dog had to find the ewe, for

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

it was agreed on all hands, that she must long ago have
mixed with the rest of the sheep on the farm. How that
wag, no man will ever be able to decide. John, however,
still persisted in waiting until his dog came back, either
with the ewe or without her; and at last the trusty animal
brought the individual lost sheep to our very feet, which
the man took on his back, and went on his way rejoicing.
I remember the dog was very warm, and hanging out his
tongue — John called him all the ill names he could invent,
which the other seemed to take in very good part. Such
language seemed to be John's flattery to his dog. For my
part, I went home fancying I had seen a miracle, little
weeting that it was nothing to what I myself was to expe-
rience in the course of my pastoral life, from the sagacity
of that faithful animal the shepherd's dog.

My dog was always my companion. I conversed with
him the whole day — I shared every meal with him, and my
plaid in the time of a shower; the consequence was, that I
generally had the best dogs in all the country. The first
remarkable one that I had was named Sirrah, he was beyond
all comparison the best dog I ever saw. He was of a surly
unsocial temper — disdained all flatter)^, and refused to be
caressed ; but his attention to his master's commands and
interests never will again be equalled by any of the canine
race. The first time that 1 saw him, a drover was leading
him in a rope; he was hungry, and lean, and far from being
a beautiful cur, for he was all over black, and had a grim
face striped with dark brown. The man had bought him
of a boy for three shillings, somewhere on the Border, and
doubtless had used him very ill on his journey. I thought
I discovered a sort of sullen intelligence in his face, not-
withstanding his dejected and forlorn situation, so I gave
the drover a guinea for him, and appropriated the captive
to myself. I believe there never was a guinea so well
laid out; at least, I am satisfied that I never laid out one to
so good purpose. He was scarcely then a year old, and
knew so little of herding, that he had never turned 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 once I made him to
understand a direction, he never forgot or mistook it again.
Well as I knew him, he very 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. Were I to relate all his exploits,
it would require a volume; I shall only mention one or two,
to prove to you what kind of an animal he was.

I was a shepherd for ten years on the same farm, where
I had always about 700 lambs put under my charge at wean-

ing time. As they were of the short, or black-faced breed,
the breaking of them was a very ticklish and difficult task.
I was obliged to watch them night and day for the first four
days, during which time I had always a person to assist me.
It happened one year, that just about midnight the lambs
broke and came up the moor upon us, making a noise with
their running louder than thunder. We got up, and waved
our plaids, and shouted, in hopes to turn them, but we only
made matters worse, for in a moment they were all round
us, and by our exertions we cut them into three divisions;
one of these run north, another south, and those that came
up between us straight up the moor to the westward. I
called out, "Sirrah, my man, they're a' away;" the word,
of all others, that set him most upon the alert, but owing to
the darkness of the night, and blackness of the moor, I never
saw him at all. As the division of the lambs that ran south-
ward were going straight towards the fold, where they had
been that day taken from their dams, I was afraid they would
go there, and again mix \vith them ; so I threw off part of
my clothes, and pursued them, and by great personal exer-
tion, and the help of another old dog that I had beside
Sirrah, I turned them, but in a few minutes afterward lost
them altogether. I ran here and there, not knowing what
to do, but always, at intervals, gave a loud whistle to Sirrah,
to let him know that I was depending on him. By that
whistling, the lad who was assisting found me out, but he
likewise had lost all traces of the lambs whatsoever. I ask-
ed if he had never seen Sirrah? He said, he had not; but
that after I left him, a wing of the lambs had come round
him with a swirl, and that he supposed Sirrah had then
given them a turn, though he could not see him for the
darkness. We both concluded, that whatever way the
lambs ran at first, they would finally land at the fold where
they left their mothers, and without delay we bent our
course towards that; but when we came there, we found
nothing of them, nor was there any kind of bleating to be
heard, and discovered with vexation that we had come on a
wrong track.

My companion then bent his course towards the farm of
Glen on the north, and I ran away westward for several
miles, along the wild track where the lambs had grazed
while following their dams. We met after it was day, far
up in a place called the Black Cleuch, but neither of us had
been able to discover our lambs, or any traces of them. It
was the most extraordinary circumstance that had ever oc-
curred in the annals of the pastoral life! We had nothing
for it but to return to our master, and inform him that we
had lost his whole flock of lambs to him, and knew not what
was become of them.

On our way home, however, we discovered a body of
lambs at the bottom of a deep ravine, called the Flesh Clench.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

and the indefatigable Sirrah standing in front of them, look-
ing all around for some relief, but still standing true to his
charge. The sun was then up; and when we first came in
view of them, we concluded that it was one of the divisions
of the lambs, which Sirrah had been unable to manage until
he came to that commanding situation, for it was about a
mile and a half distant from the place where they first broke
and scattered. But what was our astonishment, when we
discovered by degrees 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 ri.sing of the
sun; and if all the shepherds in the forest had been there to
have assisted him, they could not have efiected it with great-
er propriety. All that I can say farther is, that I never felt
so o-rateful to any creature below the sun as I did to my
honest Sirrah that movnmg.—Lo7idon Sport. Magazine.

ON THE LUXURY OF THE ROMANS.

The Roman writers who flourished during the republic
say little about Natural History. It is more treated of by
the writers under the Empire. But the works they have
left us on such subjects contain few original remarks, and
are little else than compilations, a circumstance which must
appear very strange, since no nation had ever greater oppor-
tunities of observing.

In the earliest ages of the republic, besides that the Roman
institutions were in general adverse to every kind of study,
the simplicity of manners that prevailed was especially un-
favourable to the progress of natural history, a science of
luxury, expensive, and not to be carried on without many
previous arrangements.

Indeed the relations among the beings that form the sub-
ject of natural history, cannot be established without bring-
ing together a great number. jSIuch assistance is therefore
derived from commerce, drawing, as it does, towards a cen-
tral point, the productions of foreign countries. Now, the
Romans, during a very long period were not commercial.
By the first treaty made with the Carthaginians, they bound
themselves not to sail beyond the strait that separates Sicily
from Africa. Still later, in the year of Rome 405, they
gave up altogether their trade with Sardinia, and with the
coast of Africa.

Commerce was checked, not through ignorance, but from
the policy of their government, in order to withstand the
introduction of luxury. Rome had no silver money till the
472d year from the foundation of the city, 36S years before

Christ. At the date of the late Macedonian War, a senator
was degraded from his rank for having ten pounds of silver
plate. Gold plate was seen for the first time at the end of
this war, in the triumph of Paulus iEmilius. But luxury
was the speedy consequence of victory, and the luxury of
individuals was carried to the utmost extravagance. We
shall notice it in so far as regards natural history.

The luxury of the table, for example, caused to be im-
ported into Rome from foreign countries a multitude of
animals; of which several had no other recommendation but
rarity, and being excessively dear.

The luxury of dress also is interesting, with respect to
precious stones and dyes. That of buildings, on account of
the marbles brought from different parts of Italy, from
Greece, and even from Gaul. And the luxury of furniture
is interesting, from the valuable woods employed.

Of the Luxury of the Table.

Quadrupeds. — During the second Punic War, Fulvius
Hirpinus devised the mode of retaining quadrupeds in parks.
These parks were named Leporaria, because three sorts of
hares were reared in them, the common hare, the original
Spanish rabbit, and the variegated or alpine hare, a species
now almost entirely destroyed. In like manner, nearly all
the native animals of our forests were bred in these parks,
besides the wild sheep and the mouflon. These animals
were almost domesticated, and were taught to unite at a sig-
nal. One day, when Hortensius was entertaining his friends
at dinner in one of his parks, at the sound of a trumpet,
stags, goats, and wild boars were seen running up, and
gathered round his tent, to the no small dismay of some of
the guests. Servius Rullus was the first who had a whole
boar served on his table. Anthony, during his triumvi-
rate, displayed eight at one feast. The Romans considered
as a great delicacy the grey dormouse, a little animal that
dwells in the woods, and in the holes of oak trees. They
reared them in enclosures, and lodged them in jars of
earthen-ware, of a particular form, fattening them with
worms and chesnuts.

Birds. — Lenius Strabo of Brundusium invented aviaries
for confining such birds, destined for the table, as could not
be kept within the walls of a poultry-yard. It is he, says
Pliny, that taught us to imprison animals whose abode is the
sky. Alexander had introduced peacocks into Greece,
where they were regarded only as objects of curiosity.
Hortensius was the first who had one served at a banquet,
when he was appointed to the office of augur.

These birds soon multiplied, and Ptolemy Phocion was
astonished at the great number of them to be found in Rome.
Aufidius Lucro made about £600 a-year by fattening pea-

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

269

cocks. The peacock was a constant dish at all the great
entertainments. It was the truffled turkey of those days.

Hirtius Pansa, who had the ill luck to give a feast wher'?
this indispensable article did not appear, was reckoned a
niggard, a man without taste, and was ever after scorned by
delicate feeders. In those aviaries thrushes and pigeons
were bred. It seems, too, there were then the same fan-
cies as there are at present. Certain varieties were much
sought after. Varro relates that a couple of pigeons brought
2000 sesterces, about 19/. of our money. Sempronius
Lucius first had served on his table young storks. Geese
were crammed in the same manner as now to enlarge their
livers; but it was a dish too easily obtained, and soon those
who wished to distinguish themselves invented new sorts
of meat. They dressed the brains of ostriches, and the
tongues of flamingos. Wild geese were sent for from Phry-
gia; cranes from Melos; and pheasants from Colchis.

Fishes. — As to fish, luxury went even farther than in
birds and quadrupeds. At one period of the republic, a
man eating a fish would have been thought shamefully dain-
ty. But the severity of manners disappeared on the intro-
duction of riches; and Cato complains, that in his time, a
fish sold as dear as an ox. Yet, even then, Gallonius was
publicly accused in the senate, and was nearly deprived of
his rank, on account of the luxury of his table, having had
sturgeons on it. The inventor of fish-ponds was Lucinius
Mursena, and thence came the surname which was after-
wards borne by this family.

Hortensius followed his example, and even went beyond
it. Very soon, it was not enough to have fresh-water fish,
for salt-water ponds were formed, in which were bred sea-
trouts, soles, John Dories, and shell-fish of different kinds.
Lucullus, in order to let in sea-water to one of his preserves,
had a mountain cut through, and from this extravagance was
deservedly called Xei-xes Togatus. At his death there
were so many fish in his ponds, that Cato of Utica, who
was trustee on the succession, having ordered them to be
sold, received for them the sum of 32,000/. sterling. The
sale of the fish-ponds of Irrius yielded the same price.
Csesar wishing, on a particular occasion, to give a feast to the
Roman people, applied to this Irrius for some lampreys.
Irrius refused to sell any, but, according to Pliny, agreed to
lend him six thousand. Varro says only two thousand.
The object then was, who could be most absurd about lam-
preys. Hortensius had some of which he was more careful
than of his slaves, and not for the purpose of eating them.
Those served on his table were bought in the market. He
is said to have wept on the death of one of these fish. Cras-
sus, the orator, in a like case, went farther, — he put on
mourning. His colleague Domitius chid him for it in the
senate; but all this was nothing compared to the deeds of
3Y

Claudius Pollio. He more than once threw in living men
to be devoured by his lampreys.

Other fish were equally the object of prodigality of which
we can hardly form a conception. The accipenser was
generally sold for more than a thousand drachmae. It was
never set on the table without a flourish of trumpets. The
accipenser was not, as it would seem, the ordinary sturgeon,
but the sterlet, a small species with a pointed snout, caught
in the rivers that fall into the Black Sea. The mullet, or
roach of Provence, called in Paris the sun-mullet, was also
sold excessively dear. A mullet weighing four lbs. fetched
£37; another £62. Three together, in the reign of Tibe-
rius, were sold so high as £250. These fish used even to
be brought alive to the dining-room, by canals filled with
salt-water which passed under the table. The fact is un-
doubted, and is attested by the invectives of Seneca.
. Snails and Oysters. — Singular attention was likewise
paid to snails. The same Fulvius Hirpinus, who had
thought of parks for quadrupeds, contrived parks for them
too. As snails could not be retained by inclosures, the
places in which they were kept were surrounded with water.
Jars of earthen-ware were set for them to retire into, and
they were fattened with mulled wine and flour. Pliny says
there were some of the weight of 25 lbs. Those that grew
to this size were certainly not Italian snails. But we know
that snails were likewise brought from foreign countries, as
Africa and Illyria.

The man who first showed the way of making oyster-beds
was Sergius Aurata. He, like Lucinius, derived his sur-
name from a fish, the John Dory. The preserver of the
Lucrine Lake had for a long time the character of produ-
cing the best oysters. Next to them were those of Brun-
dusium. At last refinement was carried farther; and the
oysters of Brundusium were taken to be parked in the Lu-
crine Lake.

Fruits. — It appears that fruits were less sought after then
than they have been since. The only new fruit introduced
at this time was the cherry, which Lucullus brought from
Cerasus, a town in Asia Minor, sixty-nine years before
Christ.

Perfumes and Dress. — The luxury in perfumes was be-
yond measure, and drew to Rome the most costly aromatics
of the East. The luxury of dress was equally great, and
made known purple, pearls, and precious stones. At one
time there was quite a rage for opals; and one individual,
rather let himself be prosecuted, than give up to Sylla a
very fine one the dictator desired to have.

Furniture. — The dominion of fashion extended equally
io furniture, and raised the value of certain kinds of wood
to an enormous amount. For a while the citrus was pre-
ferred. The tree thus named was not the citrus of Theo-

270

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

phrastus, the orange-tree of our time; but seems to have
been a species of Thuya, brought from Cyrenaica. They
made use not only of the trunk but of some knots that grew
out near the root. When sucli pieces could be got of a large
size, they were sold excessively dear. Cethegus paid for a
table 1,400,000 sesterces, about £11,000. Even Seneca,
with all his outcry against luxury, had some tables that cost
a most exorbitant sum. These pieces were distinguished by
their colour, and by the way they were veined. Each va-
riety had a different name. Ebony also was employed, a
kind of wood first introduced into Italy by Ponipey, after
his victories over the pirates.

Building. — A great deal of marble was used in building.
It was brought from the most distant countries, and there
were even several of which the quarries are now lost.
Thus the marbles denoted by the names of vci't antique
and rouge antique, are so termed because they are found
only in ancient structures. It was in searching for such frag-
ments among some ruins that Pompeii was discovered.

Luxury of the Empire. — If from the luxury of indi-
viduals we turn to the luxury displayed in public festivals,
we find still greater matter of astonishment. One would
hardly venture to repeat what is stated in ancient writers,
yet there appears no ground for supposing that they exag-
gerated, seeing how closely their accounts agree; when we
reflect, too, that they were nearly all eye-witnesses of what
they relate, and that they would not have attempted to
bring forward assertions opposed to the knowledge of all
their contemporaries. Messrs. Beckman,Mongez, and Cu-
vier, have made very extensive inquiries about the animals
exhibited or slain in the circus. Such inquiries ought not
to be regarded as merely curious. In fact, it is of impor-
tance to the naturalist, and for several reasons, to know the
date of the first appearance of these animals, the countries
of which they were natives, and their numbers. For ex-
ample, without ascertaining these points, a naturalist would
often be apt to mistake the bones of foreign quadrupeds for
true fossil remains, and thus to mistake transported soil for
regular formations.

Curius Dentatus first showed foreign animals at Rome in
the year 273 before Christ. It will be recollected, that ele-

tellus having gained a great victory over the Carthaginians,
captured a hundred and forty-two elephants, which were all
slain with arrows in the circus. It was evidently good po-
licy, ill the time of Curius Dentatus, to put to death some
of these animals, in order to lessen the fear the sight of them
had at first produced. There were not the same reasons for
the second massacre; but, without doubt, the Romans had
no desire to introduce elephants into their armies, and thus
oblige themselves to alter tactics of which they had proved
the excellence. As httle were tiiey inclined to make a pre-
sent of these elephants to an}^ of the kings their allies, from
an apprehension of adding too much to their force. Sixty-
six years after the triumph of Metellus, in the year before
Christ 186, Marcus Fulvius, to absolve himself from a vow
he had made in the ^tolian war, exhibited panthers and
lions. These animals might have come from Africa; but
perhaps he had obtained them from Asia Minor, where, at
this time, some were still to be found. The people getting
a taste for these shows, Scipio Nasica and Publius Lentulus
gave them a sight of several elephants, forty bears, and fifty-
three panthers. Quintus Scaevola had several lions fighting
against men. Sylla had more tlian an hundred male lions.
In the year 5S before Christ, iEmilius Scaurus, during his
sedilship, distinguished himself not only by the number of
animals be brought out, but also bj' presenting several that
had never before been seen in Rome. In these spectacles
the first hippopotamus appeared. There were also five
live crocodiles, five hundred panthers, and, more strange
still, the bones of the animal to which, it was said, Andro-
meda had been exposed. These bones had been brought
from the town of Joppa (Jaffa), on the coast of Palestine.
There were among them vertebrae a foot and a half long,
and a bone not under six-and-tiiirty feet in length, probably
the under jaw of a whale. In the year 55 before Ciirist,
Pompey at the inauguration of his theatre, displayed a lynx,
a cephus from iEthiopia (a species of ape), a one-horned
rhinoceros, twenty elephants fighting with men, four hun-
dred and ten panthers, and six hundred lions, whereof three
iiundred and fifteen had manes. All the sovereigns of
Europe together could not now produce such a number.
Cicero, who was present at these games, speaks of them

phants were first brought to Greece during the conquests of with great disdain, and says the people at last took pity on

Alexander. Aristotle saw them, and wrote about them a
great deal better than Buffon has since done. These ele-
phants, and some others sent afterwards, came into the pos-
session of Pyrrhus, king of Epirus, who had taken them
from Demetrius Poliorcetes. Pyrrhus having been himself
defeated by the Romans, four of his war-elephants fell into
the power of the conquerors. These elephants, after hav-
ing been led in the triumphal possession of Curius, were
slain before the people. Four-and-twenty years later, Me-

the elephants. In the 4Sth j'ear before Christ, Anthony
exhibited lions harnessed to a chariot; it was the first time
these animals had been seen so employed, but they were not
the first that had been tamed. A Carthaginian, named Ilanno,
had a lion that followed him through that city like a dog.
His trouble was ill rewarded, for his countrymen banished
him, judging that a man who had been able to subdue a fero-
cious beast, must have been gifted with some secret power
by which he might perhaps have overcome themselves.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

271

In the 3'ear 46 before Christ, Csesar put forth, in an am-
phitheatre covered over witii a purple awning, four hundred
nianed lions, several wild bulls fighting with men, and
twenty elephants which were attacked by five hundred in-
fantry. On the evening of his triumph, he returned home
preceded by elephants carrying torches.

We may imagine the unbounded opulence of the men
who could afford such spectacles — the eagerness of allied
kings to gratify them — the crowds of human beings em-
ployed in obtaining the animals exhibited to the people! It
is not less astonishing that it was possible to collect such a
multitude of large animals and beasts of prey.

Yet in this kind of munificence the great Romans of the
republic were afterwards outdone by the emperors. From
an inscription, in honour of Augustus, found at Ancyra, we
learn, that this prince caused three thousand five hundred
wild beasts to be slain before the people. On one occasion
he had water brought into the circus of Flaminius, and
showed thirty-six live crocodiles torn to pieces by other
savage animals. Two hundred and sixty-eight lions were
killed at this entertainment. There was besides a serpent
fifty cubits long, a python from Africa, and a royal tiger
confined in a cage, the first that had been seen in Rome.
Augustus, before he became emperor, at his triumph over
Cleopatra, had a reindeer and a hippopotamus slain in the
circus. Germanicus, at his triumph over the Germans,
brought out elephants that had been taught to dance. Cali-
gula gave four hundred bears and four hundred panthers to
be killed. Claudius, at the dedication o( the Pantheon, dis-
pla3'ed four live roj'al tigers. A mosaic pavement which
has lasted till our time, represent these animals of their
natural size. The same emperor having been informed
that a whale was stranded in the harbour of Ostia, repaired
thither, and engnged the monster with his galleys. The
animal was probably a large species of dolphin, the orca.
Galba showed an elephant that went up on a tight rope to
the summit of the theatre, with a Roman horseman on his
back. These elephants were instructed when they were
young, for they were born in Rome. ^Elian says so posi-
tively, in speaking of the elephants of Germanicus. Mr.
Corse Scott has shown, in opposition to the opinion of
Buffon, that elephants, by taking certain precautions, will
breed in a state of domestication. But the fact was known
in Italv from the time of Columella.

This lavish expenditure continued during the first four
centuries of the Roman empire. Titus, at the dedication
of his baths, placed in the circus nine thousand animals,
and exhibited cranes fighting together. Domitian gave
hunts by torch-light, where the two-horned rhinoceros ap-
peared,— an animal with which Sparrman has made us ac-
quainted only within the last sixty years, though it is en-

graved on the medals of Domitian. In these games a wo-
man fought with a lion. An elephant, after having trampled
to death a bull, went and knelt to the emperor; a royal
tiger killed a lion ; and wild cattle dragged chariots. Martial
has occupied a whole book with the description of the
games of Domitian. In his epigrams naturalists will find
manj' curious hints.

Trajan, after his victory over Deceballus, king of Parthia,
gave entertainments that lasted three-and-twenty days.
According to Dio Cassius, eleven thousand animals perished
at them. But the accounts of historians arc much less in-
teresting, than a mosaic, executed by order of that emperor.
In this valuable fragment, which was discovered at Pales-
trina, the ancient Prjeneste, the animals of Egypt and
Ethiopia are figured with the names under each of them.
The lower part represents the inundation of the Nile.
The forms of the ibis, the crocodile, and the hippopotamus,
are very exactly given. But the hippopotamus has been
very ill described by the Roman naturalists, who have only
copied from Herodotus. On the upper part of the mosaic
there appear among the mountains of Ethiopia the giraffe,
under the name o[ nobis; apes, and various reptiles; in all
thirty animals, easily recognised, and whose nomenclature
is thus determined.

Antoninus, the successor of Adrian, conforming to the
established usage likewise exhibited games. He had croco-
diles, hipoppotamuses, strepsiceroses (antelopes), and hyae-
nas, different from those described by Agatarchis.

Marcus Aurelius abhorred such spectacles, but his son
Commodus resumed them with fury; with hisown hand he
slew a tiger, a hippopotamus, and an elephant. He sent
into the circus a great number of ostriches, and as they ran
about cut off their heads with crescent-shaped blades, fixed
on the points of arrows. Herodian, who relates the fact,
says, that the birds, after being decapitated ran about some
time. The experiment has been successfully repeated on
ducks. Septimus Severu.=, in the tenth year of his reign,
at the rejoicings on the marriage of Caracalla, made four hun-
dred animals come out of a machine, and among them some
wild asses and bisons. At the marriage of Heliogabalus,
there were chariots drawn bj' all kinds of wild beasts.

The most expensive and most curious assemblages of ani-
mals were those of the Gordians. The first emperor of
this name in one day exposed to view a thousand panthers.
Probus, one of their successors, had trees planted in the
circus. INIore than a thousand ostriches, and a countless
throng of various creatures were seen running about in this
artificial forest.

So long as the Roman empire existed in the west, similar
displays were continued. In spite of the prohibitions of
Constantine, there were some even under Christian empe-

272

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

rors. Theodosius gave fights of animals in the circus; and
Justinian himself exhited in the amphitheatre twenty lions
and thirty panthers.

Such sights, repeated without interruption for more than
four hundred years, must have afforded the Roman naturalists
opportunities of making numerous observations on the
forms, habits, and interior organization of foreign animals;
yet science v/as little improved by their labours. It seems,
that the animals being once killed, nobody derived any
further benefit from their slaughter. The proof is, that
all the writers of the first, second, and third centuries of
the Christian era, who have treated of such animals, have
borrowed every thing they have said about them from
Greek authors who lived before the Roman conquest. Pliny
himself is but a compiler. — From a Lecture delivered by
Baron Cuvicr. — Edln. Phil. Jour.

A PECULIARITY NOT HITHERTO DESCRIBED

IN THE ANKLE OR HOCK-JOINT OF THE HORSE.

Br Robert J. Graves, M.D., M.R.LA.

Being engaged in the dissection of the horse, on exam-
ining the hock-joint, I found that any effort to flex or bend
the limb at that joint, was counteracted by a considerable
resistance, which continued until the limb was bent to a
certain extent; after which, suddenly, and without the aid
of any external force, it attained to its extreme degree of
flexion. In attempting to restore the extended position of
the limb, I found that a similar impediment existed to its
extension, until the same point was passed, when the limb
suddenly, as it were, snapped into its extreme degree of
extension at this joint.

At first I conceived that this phenomenon depended on
the tendons of the flexor and extensor muscles of this joint;
but on removing all these muscles and their tendons, it was
not diminished, and it therefore became clear that it de-
pended on some peculiar mechanism within the joint it-
self.

Before I enter into the details of this mechanism, it is ne-
cessary to remark, tliat it is evidently connected with the
power this animal jjossesses, of sleeping standing, for it
serves the purpose of keeping the hock-joint in the extended
position, so far as to counteract the oscillations of the body,
without the aid of muscular exertion: and in this respect it
resembles the provision made to effect a similar purpose in
certain birds, as the stork, and some others of the grallas,
which sleep standing on one foot. It will appear, also, in

the sequel, that not only is the effect produced the same,
but the mechanism is in many respects similar, if the ac-
count given by Cuvier, and also by Dr. Macartney, in Rees'
Cyclopedia, article Birds, be correct.

Sheep and cows are not provided with ankle-joints of a
similar structure, and it is well known that these animals do
not possess the power of sleeping standing. Another circum-
stance which adds additional interest to this peculiarity of
structure, is, that it may possibly be connected with the
disease termed String-halt, in which the limb is at each
step suddenly flexed to a degree far beyond that required
in ordinary progression. Whether this is owing to a sud-
den and jerking flexion of the whole limb, or to flexion of
the hock-joint alone, I have had no opportunity lately of de-
termining. If the latter be the case, it is probably connect-
ed with the structure of the hock-joint, which I am about
to describe. It may be right to observe that not even a
probable conjecture has been advanced, concerning the na-
ture and cause of string-halt, a disease to which the sheep
and cow are not subject, and we have already observed, that
in these animals the structure of this joint presents nothing
remarkable.

The hock-joint is a good example of what is termed the
hinge-like articulation, and is formed between the tibia and
astragalus, which latter bone presents an articulating sur-
face; with a nearly semicircular outline, and divided into
two ridges, including between them a deep fossa. The
tibia is furnished with depressions which ride upon the
ridges of the astragalus, and has anterior and posterior pro-
jections, which, moving in the fossa, and received into cor-
responding depressions in the astragalus, at the moment the
limb arrives at the greatest degree either of flexion or of ex-
tension.

The shape of the surfaces of the astragalus concerned in
the articulation, is not that a given circle throughout, for to-
wards either extremity, the descent is more rapid, or, in
other words, answers to an arc of a smaller circle. Hence,
when one of the objections of the tibia has arrived at its
corresponding cavity in the astragalus, which happens when
the limb is either completely flexed or completely extended,
the rapid curve of the articulating surface presents a con-
siderable obstruction to change a position. Thus, the form
of the articulating surfaces, in itself, to a certain degree,
explains the phenomenon; but its chief cause is to be found
in the disposition and arrangement of the ligaments.

The external malleolus of the tibia is divided by a deep
groove, for the passage of a tendon, into an anterior and pos-
terior tubercle; from the latter of which, and close to the
edge of the articulating surface, arises a strong and broad
ligament that is inserted into the os calcis. Under this lies
another ligament, which, arising from the anterior tubercle,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

is also inserted into the os calcis. It is to be observed,
that the origin of the latter was anterior to that of the for-
mer, but its insertion posterior, so that these lateral liga-
ments cross each other in the form of an x. The external
articulating protuberance of the astragalus on which the
tibia revolves, has, as has been already stated, a nearly cir-
cular outline, and the attachments of the ligaments just
described, are at points on the outside of the os calcis, which
would lie nearly in the circumference of that circle, were
it continued from the articulating surface; so that each of
these ligaments has one of its extremities fixed in a certain
point of the circumference, while its opposite extremity re-
volves during the motion of the joint, nearly in the circum-
ference of the same circle. This observation applies like-
wise to the two lateral ligaments on the inner side of the
joint, which have nearly the same relation to each other,
and to the general contour of the joint, as that just des-
cribed; so it is obvious, that during the rotation of the
joint, as the origins of these ligaments move along the same
circumference in which their attachments are fixed, the
ligaments will be most stretched when they correspond to
diameters of that circle.

Now it is so arranged that this happens at the same time
for all, and consequently the ligaments on each side corres-
pond not merely as to direction, but as to the point of time
they become most stretched, which is nearly at the moment
that the joint has no tendency to move either way, and at
that moment, it is to be observed, that although the liga-
ments are most tense, and of course react on their points of
attachment with greatest force, yet this produces no motion,
as the force is exerted in a direction perpendicular to the
circumference; but as soon as the tibia is moved beyond
this point of inaction for the ligament, the latter, no longer
representing diameters, b_v their contractile force evidently
tend to accelerate the motion; and as they all act in the
same direction, and are assisted by the shape of the articu-
lating surfaces, a sudden motion of flexion or extension is
thus produced.

The preceding explantion supposes the ligaments to pos-
sess, contrary to the nature of ligaments, in general, a cer-
tain degree of elasticity, which was evidently the case in
all, hut particularly in the most deep-seated of those on
the inner side of the joint, which, therefore, appears most
concerned in producing the sudden motion, whether of
flexion or extension. — Edin. Philos. Jour.

There is no fish vv^hich yields so much oil in proportion to
its size, as the Porpoise, and therefore renders its capture
an object of consideration; and it is said, that whenever a
Porpoise happens to be wounded, all the rest of its compa-
nions will immediately fall upon, and devour it.
3 Z

THE BREAD FRUIT.

The bread-fruit, originally found in the south-eastern
parts of Asia, and the islands of the Pacific, though now in-
troduced into the tropical parts of the western continent,
and the West India islands, is one of the most interesting,
as well as singular productions of the vegetable kingdom.
There are two species of it: the bread-fruit, properly so
called [Artocarpus incisa), with the leaves deeply gashed
or divided at the sides, which grows chiefly in the islands;
and the Jack fruit, or Jaca tree {Artocarpus integrifolia,)
with the leaves entire, which grows chiefly on the main
land of Asia.

The bread-fruit is a beautiful as well as a useful tree: the
trunk rises to the height of about forty feet, and, in a full
grown tree, is from a foot to fifteen inches in diameter; the
bark is ash-colourcd; full of little chinks, and covered by
small knobs; the inner bark is fibrous, and is used in the
manufacture of a sort of cloth; and the wood is smooth,
soft; and of a yellow colour. The branches come out in a
horizontal manner, the lowest ones about ten or twelve feet
from the ground; and thej'' become shorter and shorter as
they are nearer and nearer the top: the leaves are divided
into seven or nine lobes, about eighteen inches or two feet
long, and are of a lively green. The tree bears male and
female flowers, the males among the upper leaves, and the
females at the extremities of the twigs. When full grown,
tJie fruit is about nine inches long, heart-shaped, of a green-
ish colour, and marked with hexagonal warts, formed into
facets. The pulp is white, partl_v farinaceous and partly
fibrous; but, when quite ripe, it becomes yellow and juicy.
The whole tree, when in a green state, abounds with a viscid
milky juice, of so tenacious a nature as to be drawn out in
tlu'eads.

In the island of Otalieite and other places, where the
bread-fruit forms the chief support of the people, there are,
as is the case with cultivated vegetables in all countries,
many varieties; only two, however, are very diflferent from
each other — that which contains seeds in the fruit, and that
which contains none. The variety with seeds is much in-
ferior to the other, being more fibrous, containing less farina,
and not so pleasant to the taste; it is, therefore, not culti-
vated, though, in cases of need it is roasted and eaten.
Whether the seedless sort has been produced wholly by cul-
tivation it is not easy, and would not be of much importance,
to ascertain: it is the one cultivated in the South Sea is-
lands; it was originally found only there; and the tree was
not in much repute till these islands were discovered.

The bread-fruit continues productive for about eight
months in the year: such is its abundance, that two or three
trees will sufiice for a man's yearly supply, a store being

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

made into a sour paste, called make in the islands, which is
eaten during the unproductive season . The planting of the
seedless variety is now saved, as the creeping roots send up
suckers which soon grow to trees. When the fruit is roast-
ed till the outside is charred, the pulp has a consistency not
very unlike that of wheaten bread; and the taste is inter-
mediate between that of bread and roasted chesnuts. It is
said to be very nourishing, and is prepared in various ways.

The timber of the bread-fruit, though soft, is found use-
ful in the construction of houses and boats; the male flowers,
dried, serve for tinder; the juice answers for bird-lime and
glue; the leaves for packing and for towels; and the inner
bark, beaten together, makes one species of the South Sea
cloth.

The earliest account of the bread-fruit is by Captain
Dampier, in 16SS. "The bread-fruit," says this naviga-
tor, " grows on a large tree, as big and high as our largest
apple trees; it hath a spreading head, full branches, and
dark leaves. The fruit grows on the boughs like apples; it
is as big as a penny loaf, when wheat is at five shillings the
bushel; it is of a round shape, and hath a thick tough rind.
When the fruit is ripe, it is yellow and soft, and the taste is
sweet and pleasant. The natives of Guam use it for bread.
They gather it when full grown, while it is green and hard;
they then bake it in an oven which scorcheth the rind, and
maketh it black; but they scrape of the outside black crust,
and there remains a tender thin crust; and the inside is soft,
tender, and white, like the crumb of a penny loaf. There
is neither seed nor stone in the inside, but all of a pure sub-
stance like bread. It must be eaten new, for, if it be kept
above twenty-four hours, it grows harsh and choky, but it
is very pleasant before it is too stale. This fruit lasts in
season eight months in the year, during which the natives
eat no other sort of bread kind. I did never see of this
fruit any where but here. The natives told us, that there
is plenty of this fruit growing on the rest of the Ladrone
Islands; and I did never hear of it anywhere else."

The scientific men who accompanied Captain Cook in his
voyages, came home with the most enthusiastic ideas of
the bread-fruit. Dr. Solander calls it " the most useful
vegetable in the world," and urges that no expense should
be spared in its cultivation. The mere idea of bread, the
most valuable food of man, growing spontaneously, was
doubtless calculated to excite attention — almost, perhaps, as
strongly as the subsequent description of the poet: —

" The bread-tree, which, without the plougsliare, yields

The unreap'd harvest of uniurrowM fields,

And bakes its iinadulterated loaves

Without a furnace in unpurchased groves,

And flings off famine from its fertile breast,

A priceless market for the gathering guest." Byron.

A tree, of the value and easy culture of which so very
encouraging accounts were given, could not but attract the
notice of the public generally, and more especially of those
colonists of Great Britain who lived in a climate warm
enough for its cultivation. An application to be furnished
with plants of the bread-fruit tree was accordingly made to
his late Majesty by the planters and others interested in the
West Indies, and it met with a favourable reception. The
Bounty, a vessel of about two hundred and fifteen tons
burthen, was fitted up for a voyage to Otaheite. Lieute-
nant (afterwards Admiral) Bligh, who had accompanied
Cook on his last voyage, and shown himself an officer of
great talents, enterprise, and bravery, was appointed to
the command. In addition to the crew of the vessel, two
men were appointed at the recommendation of Sir Joseph
Banks, to take immediate charge of the procuring, shipping,
and tending of the plants.

The Bounty was skilfully fitted up for her intended pur-
pose. A large cabin between decks, in midships, was
prepared for the reception of the plants. This had two
large skylights on the top for light; three scuttles on each
side for ventilation of air, and a double bottom; an upper
one of timber on which to place the pots and tubs contain-
ing the plants, which w-as drilled full of holes to allow es-
cape to the superfluous water which might have injured
them by stagnation — and a leaden one upon the lower deck,
in which the water that ran through the other was collected,
and from which it was conducted by a leaden pipe at each
corner, into casks below for future use.

Thus prepared, the vessel put to sea about the middle of
November, 1787, but was beat about and baffled by contrary
winds, so that the voyage was not commenced till the 23d
of December. The instructions given to Lieutenant Bligh
were full and explicit. He was to resort to those places in
the Society Isles where Captain Cook had stated that the
bread-fruit tree was to be found in the greatest luxuriance,
and there procure as many plants as the vessel could carry;
after which he was to proceed with them to the West Indies
with all possible expedition.

The commander sailed first for Teneriffe, and thence for
the South of America, intending to enter the Pacific by the
passage of Cape Horn. But the storms of that inhospitable
region beat him back; and he was forced to bear away for
the Cape of Good Hope, and reach the Society Islands on
the side of New Holland. This voyage, which had occu-
pied ten months terminated on the 25th October, by the
arrival of the Bounty at Otaheite.

No time was lost inputting the instructions into execution.
The young shoots that sprung from the lateral roots of
the bread-fruit trees were taken up, with balls of earth,
where the soil was moist; and this operation was continued

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

till they were in possession of one thousand and fifteen live
plants, secured in seven hundred and seventy-four pots,
thirty-nine tubs, and twenty-four boxes. To complete this
cargo took them till the 3d of April, 17S9; and Bligh sailed
on the fourth, passing from Otaheite through the groupe of
islands, and bidding adieu to the natives, with whom he and
his crew had been on most friendly terms during their stay.

Hitherto there had been no perils to contend with but
those of the sea; but when four and twenty days had elaps-
ed, and they were of course, far from land, a new scene
took place, which frustrated for a time the bounty of the
government and the skill of the commander. Under the
cloak of fidelity, a mutiny had been forming of a very de-
termined and extensive nature; and so well had the muti-
neers disguised their intention, that not one but those who
were in the plot had the slightest suspicion of it.

The known bravery of Lieutenant Bligh made the muti-
neers afraid to attack him awake ; and so, on the morning
of the 2Sth of April, he was seized while asleep in his bed,
by a band of armed traitors, and hurried upon deck in his
shirt; and, on coming there, he found the master, the gun-
ner, one of the master's mates, and Nelson the botanist,
who had been with him under Cook, confined in the fore
hatchway, and guarded by sentinels. The launch was
hoisted; and such individuals as the mutineers did not like,
were ordered to quit the ship, and forced if they refused
or hesitated. Eighteen individuals out of the forty-six re-
mained true to the commander; and one of them, Mr.
Samuel, the clerk, contrived to save Mr. Bligh's commission
and journals; but he failed in attempting to procure Bligh's
surveys, drawings, and remarks during fifteen years, which
were exceedingly valuable, and the time-keeper. Four of
the men, who kept their allegiance, were detained by the
mutineers contrary to their wishes. The cause of this sin-
gular mutinj-, for which none of the usual motives could very
well account, could not with certainty be known; but it was
generally supposed that the instigator was Mr. Christian,
one of the master's mates. Bligh himself says, in his most
interesting account of this voyage and mutiny, "It will
naturally be asked what could be the cause of this revolt?
In answer, I can onlj^ conjecture that the mutineers had
flattered themselves with the hope of a happier life among
the Otaheitans than they could possibly enjoy in England."

Thus, after they had made certain of the successful termi-
nation of an enterprise which was looked upon with a great
deal of interest, both in a scientific and economical point of
view, Bligh was disappointed — and he and his faithful as-
sociates were sent adrift upon the wide ocean, in an open
boat, with only an hundred and fifty pounds of bread, a few
pieces of pork, a little wine and rum, a quadrant and com-
pass, and a few other implements of navigation. But they

were undaunted, and they were skilful; and though they
had hard weather to contend with, they reached Tofoa,
one of the Friendly Islands. But as the people there were
as treacherous, though not quite so successful in their
treachery, as their former shipmates, they again put to sea,
and stood for New Holland, which they reached in safety;
rested for a little, and got a supply of provisions. From
New Holland they again sailed in the direction of the
Eastern Archipelago ; and, after suffering the greatest
fatigue, being exposed to the full action and vicissitudes of
the elements, and forced for some time to bear famine,
they reached the Dutch settlement of Coupang, in the isl-
and of Timor, without the loss of one individual by disease;
though they had traversed at least five thousand miles of sea.
Nay, so ardent was Bligh as a seaman, that, amid all those
perils, he was occupied in making some very valuable ob-
servations.

The Dutch governor of Coupang showed them every at-
tention; and, from the care that was taken of them, twelve
were enabled to return to England. Though the adventure
had failed, every body was disposed to bestow all praise on
the adventurer; and he was promoted to the rank of cap-
tain, and appointed to the command of his ilajesty's ship
Providence, in order to repeat the voyage.

The Providence, with the Assistant, a small ship in com-
pany, sailed on the 3d of August, 179L His instructions
were to procure the bread-fruit trees for the West Indies,
and, on his return, to examine the passage between the north
of New Holland and New Guinea — which, in his former
voyage in the Bounty, he had been the first to navigate.

On the 9th of April, 1792, they reached Otaheite; and,
by the 17th of July, they were ready to leave the island,
having on board twelve hundred and eighty-one tubs and
pots of plants, all in the finest condition. There was no
mutiny on this voyage; but the passage between New Hol-
land and New Guinea was dangerous; and it was the 2d of
October before the captain reached his old friends at Cou-
pang. He remained there for a week, replacing with plants
from that island those that had died on the voyage; and
then he came to the Atlantic by the Cape of Good Hope,
which he contrived to pass so closely as never to have a
lower temperature than sixty-one degrees of Fahrenheit.

On the 17th of September, he anchored at St. Helena,
collected there a number of trees, and among others the
akee ; and, leaving twenty-three bread-fruits, and some
other valuable plants, he sailed, and reached St. Vincent on
the 23d of January, 1793 — where he left, with Dr. Ander-
son, the superintendent of the Botanical Garden, three
hundred and thirty three bread-fruit trees, and two hundred
and eleven fruit trees of other kinds, receiving at the same
time nearly five hundred tropical plants for the Botanical

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

Garden at Kew. From St. Vincent, Captain Bligh sailed
for Jamaica, where he left three hundred and forty-seven
bread-fruits, and two hundred and seventy-six others, which
were a selection of all the finest fruits of the east. Some
of the plants were also left on the island of Grand Cayman;
and the ships finally came to the Downs on the 2d of August,
1793.

But, after all the peril, hardship, and expense thus in-
curred, the bread-fruit tree has not, hitherto, at least, an-
swered the expectations that were entertained. The ba-
nana is more easily and cheaply cultivated, comes into
bearing much sooner after being planted, bears more abun-
dantly, and is better relished by the negroes. The mode
of propagating the bread-fruit is not, indeed, difficult; for
the planter has only to lay bare one of the roots, and mound
it with a spade, and in a short space a shoot comes up,
which is soon fit for removal.

Europeans are much fonder of the bread-fruit than ne-
groes. They consider it as a sort of dainty, and use it
either as bread or in pudding. When roasted in the oven,
the taste of it resembles that of a potatoe, but it is not so
mealy as a good one.

DECEMBER.

Nature is stripped of all her summer drapery. Her ver-
dure, her foliage, her flowers have all vanished. The sky
is filled with clouds and gloom, or sparkles only with a
frosty radiance. The earth is spongy with wet, rigid with
frost, or buried in snows. The winds that in summer
breathed gently over nodding blooms, and undulating grass,
swaying the leafy boughs with a pleasant murmur, and
wafting perfumes all over the world, now hiss like serpents,
or howl like wild beasts of the desert; cold, piercing, and
cruel. Every thing has drawn as near as possible to the
centre of warmth and comfort. The farmer has driven
his flocks and cattle into sheltered home inclosures, where
they may receive from his provident care, that food which
the earth now denies them; or into the farm-yard itself,
where some honest Giles piles their cratches plentifully
with fodder. The labourer has fled from the field to the
barn, and the measured strokes of his flail are heard daily
from morn till eve. It amazes us, as we walk abroad, to
conceive where can have concealed themselves the infinite
variety of creatures that sported through the air, earth, and
waters of summer. Birds, insects, reptiles, whither are
they all gone? The birds that filled the air with their mu-
sic, the rich blackbird, the loud and cheerful thrush, the

linnet, lark, and goldfinch, whither have they crept.' The
squirrel that played his antics on the forest tree; and all
the showy and varied tribes of butterflies, moths, dragonflies,
beetles, wasps, and warrior-hornets, bees, and cockchafers,
whither have they fled ? Some, no doubt, have lived out
their little term of being, and their bodies, lately so splen-
did, active, and alive to a thousand instincts, feelings, and
propensities, are become part and parcel of the dull and
, wintry soil; but the greater portion have shrunk into the
hollows of trees and rocks, and into the bosom of their
mother earth itself, where, with millions of seeds and roots,
and buds, they live in the great treasury of Nature, ready
at the call of a more auspicious season, to people the world
once more with beauty and delight.

As in the inferior world of creatures, so is it with man.
The wealthy have vacated their country houses, and congre-
gated in the great Babylon of pleasure and dissipation; fami-
lies are collected around the social hearth, where Christmas
brings his annual store of frolic and festivities; and the
author, like the bee, withdrawn to his hive, revels amid the
sweets of his summer gathering. It is amusing to imagine
what a host of pens are at this moment in motion, in sundry
places of this little island! In splendid libraries, furnished
with every bodily comfort, and every literarj' and scientific
resource, when the noble or popular author fills the sheet
which the smile of the bibliopole and reader awaits, and
almost anticipates; in naked and ghastly garrets when the
"poor-devil-author" scrawls wilh numbed fingers and a
shivering frame, what will be coldly received, and as quickly
forgotten as himself; in pleasant boudoirs, at rose-wood desks,
where lady-fingers pen lady-lays; in ten thousand nooks
and recesses the pile of books is growing, under which,
shelves, booksellers, and readers, shall groan, ere many
months elapse. Another season shall come round, and all
these leaves, like those of the forest, shall be swept away,
leaving only those of a few hardy laurels untouched. But
let no one lament them, or think that all this "labour under
the sun," has been in vain. Literary tradesmen have been
indulged in speculation; critics have been employed; and
authors have enjoyed the excitement of hope, the enthu-
siasm of composition, the glow of fancied achievement.
And all is not lost;

Tlie following year another race supplies,
They fall successive, and successive rise.

The heavens present one of the most prominent and
splendid beauties of winter. The long and total absence of
the sun's light, and the transparent purity of a frosty at-
mosphere, give an apparent elevation to the celestial con-
cave, and a rich depth and intensity of azure, in which the

AND A5IERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

stars burn with resplendent beauty; the galaxy stretches its
albescent glow athwart the northern sky, and the moon in
her monthly track sails amongst the glittering constellations
with a more queenly grace; sometimes without the visita-
tion of a single cloud, and, at others, seeming to catch from
their wind-winged speed an accelerated motion of her own.
It is a spectacle of which the contemplative eye is never
weary; though it is one, of all others, which fills the mind
with feelings of the immensit}' of the universe, the tremen-
dous power of its Creator, and of the insignificance of self.
A breathing atom, a speck even, upon the surface of a
world which is itself a speck in the universal world, we
send our imagination forth amongst innumerable orbs, all
stupendous in magnitude, all swarming with existence,
vainly striving to reach the boundaries of space, till, aston-
ished and confounded, it recoils from the hopeless task,
aching, dazzled, and humbled in the dust. What a weary
sense attends the attempt of a finite being to grasp infinity!
Space beyond space! space beyond space still! There is
nothing for the mind to rest its wearied wing upon, and it
shrinks back into its material cell, in adoration and humilit}-.
Such are the feelings and speculations which have attended
the human spirit in all ages, in contemplating this magnifi-
cent spectacle. David has beautifully expressed their ef-
fect upon him; and there is a paper in the Spectator, Vol.
viii. No. 565, which forms an admirable commentary upon
his eloquent exclamation. The awful vastness of the power
of the Diety, evinced in the scenes which night reveals, is
sure to abase the pride of our intellect; and to shake the
overgrowth of our self-love; but these influences are not
without their benefit; and the beauty and beneficence equal-
ly conspicuous in every object of creation, whether a world
or an atom, comes to our aid, to re-assure our confidence,
and to animate us with the proud prospect of an eternity of
still perfecting and ennobling existence.

But the year draws to a close. I see symptoms of its
speedy exit. I see holly and missletoe in the market, in
every house that I visit, in every window that I pass, ex-
cept in those of tiie Society of Friends, who, though they
like old fashions, pay little regard to old customs, but treat
them as the "beggarly elements" of worn out supersti-
tions. They are philosophically right, but poetically
wrong. I see the apprentice boys going along the streets,
from house to house, distributing those little annual remem-
brances called Christmas-bills; and my imagination follows
these tyroes in trade, who now fill its lowest offices, and
would think more of a slide or a mince-pie than of all
the "wealth in Lunnun bank," through a few more
years, and beholds them metamorphosed into grave, impor-
tant, and well-to-do citizens; or, as it may chance to them,
shrunk into the thin, shrivelled, and grasshopper-like
4A

beings that care and disappointment convert men into.
And this awakes in me the consciousness of how little we
have thought of man and his toils, and anxieties, as from
day to day, and month to month, we have gone wandering
over the glorious face of the earth, drinking in its peaceful
pleasures; and yet what a mighty sum of events has been
consummated! — what a tide of passions and affections has
flowed, — what lives and deaths have alternately arrived —
what destinies have been fixed for ever, while we have
loitered on a violet-path, and watched the passing splen-
dours of the Seasons. Once more our planet has completed
one of those journeys in the heavens which perfect all the
fruitful changes of its peopled surface, and mete out the
few stages of our existence; and every day, every hour of
that progress has, in all her wide lands, in all her million
hearts, left traces that eternity shall behold.

\et if we have not been burthened with man's cares, we
have not forgotten him, but many a time have we thanked
God for his bounties to him, and rejoiced in the fellowship
of our nature. If there be a scene to stir in our souls all
our thankfulness to God, and all our love for man, it is that
of Nature. When we behold the beautiful progression of
the Seasons, when we see how leaves and flowers burst forth
and spread themselves over the earth by myriads in spring,
— how summer and autumn fill the world with loveliness
and fragrance, with corn and wine, it is impossible not to
feel our hearts, "breathe perpetual benedictions" to the
great Founder and Provider of the world, and warm with
sympathetic affection towards our own race, for whom he
has thought fit to prepare all this happiness. There is no
time in which I feel these sentiments more strongly than
when I behold the moon rising over a solitary summer land-
scape. The repose of all creatures of the earth makes
more sensibly felt the incessant care of him who thus sends
up "his great light to rule the night," and to shine softly
and silently above millions of sleeping creatures, that take
no thought for themselves.

Such are the thoughts which flow into the spirit of the
solitary man as he walks through the pure retreats of Na-
ture— such have been mine as I have gone on, from day to
day, building up this "Book of the Seasons:" and in the
spirit of thankful happiness and "goodwill to all," I thus
bring it to an end. — Howitt's Book of the Seasons.

PRESERVATION OF FRUIT TREES FROM HARES.
According to M. Bus, young fruit trees may be preserv-
ed from the bites of hares, by rubbing them with fat, and
especially hog's lard. Apple and pear trees thus protected,
gave no signs of the attacks of these animals, though their
foot marks were abundant on the snow beneath them.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

CORVUS COR AX.

[Plate XXIV.]

Gmel. Syst. I, p. 364. — Lid. Orn.p. 150. — LeCorheau,
Briss. 2. p. 8, et t;ar.— Buff. Ois. 3, p. 13. P/. ml.
495. — Temm. Mzra. d'Orn. p. 107. — Raven, Lath.
Gen. ly^rn. i. /». 367. Id. sup. p. 74. — Penn. Brit.
Zool. No. 74. Arct. Zool. No. 134.— Shaw, Gen.
Zool. 7, p. 341. — Bewick, 1, p. 100. — Low, Fauna
Orcadensis, p. 45. — Philada. Museum.

"A KNOWLEDGE of this Celebrated bird has been handed
down to us from the earliest ages; and its history is almost
coeval with that of man. In the best and most ancient of all
books, we learn, that at the end of forty days, after the great
flood had covered the earth, Noah, wishing to ascertain
whether or not the waters had abated, sent forth a Raven,
which did not return into the ark.* This is the first notice
that is taken of this species. Though the Raven was de-
clared unclean by the law of Moses, yet we are informed,
that when the prophet Elijah provoked the enmity of Ahab,
by propiiesying against him; and hid himself by the brook
Cherish, the Ravens were appointed by Heaven to bring him
his daily food.t The colour of the Raven gave rise to a
similitude in one of the most beautiful of eclogues, which has
been perpetuated in all subsequent ages, and which is not less
pleasing for being trite or proverbial. The favourite of the
royal lover of Jerusalem, in the enthusiasm of affection,
thus describes the object of her adoration, in reply to the
following question:

' What is thy beloved more than another beloved, 0
thou fairest among women ? ' ' My beloved is white and
ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. His head is as
the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a
Raven. 'I

The above mentioned circumstances taken into conside-
ration, one should suppose that the lot of the subject of this
chapter would have been of a different complexion from
what history and tradition inform us is the fact. But in
every country, we are told, the Raven is considered an
omnious bird, whose croakings foretell approaching evil;
and many a crooked beldam has given interpretation to these
oracles, of a nature to infuse terror into a whole community.
Hence this ill-fated bird, immemorially, has been the inno-
cent subject of vulgar detestation.

* Gen. viii. 7.

t Song of Solomon, v. 9, 10, 11.

1 Kings, .wii. 5, G.

Augury, or the art of foretelling future events by the
flight, cries, or motion of birds, descended from the Chal-
deans to the Greeks, thence to the Etrurians, and from them
it was transmitted to the Romans.* The crafty legislators
of these celebrated nations, from a deep knowledge of hu-
man nature, made superstition a principal feature of their
religious ceremonies; well knowing that it required a more
than ordinary policy to govern a multitude, ever liable to
the fatal influences of passion; and who, without some time-
ly restraints, would burst forth like a torrent, whose course
is marked by wide-spreading desolation. Hence, to the
purposes of polity the Raven was made subservient; and the
Romans having consecrated it to Apollo, as to the god of
divination, its flight was observed with the greatest solem-
nity; and its tones and inflections of voice were noted with
a precision, which intimated a belief in its infallible pre-
science.

But the ancients have not been the only people infected
with this species of superstition: the moderns, even though
favoured with the light of Christianity, have exhibited as
much folly, through the impious curiosity of prying into fu-
turity, as the Romans themselves. It is true that modern
nations have not instituted their sacred colleges or sacer-
dotal orders, for the purposes of divination; but in all coun-
tries there have been self-constituted augurs, whose interpre-
tations of omens have been received with religious respect
by the credulous multitude. Even at this moment, in some
parts of the world, if a Raven alight on a village church,
the whole fraternity is in an uproar; and Heaven is impor-
tuned, in all the ardour of devotion, to avert the impending
calamity.

The poets have taken advantage of this weakness of hu-
man nature, and in their hands the Raven is a fit instrument
of terror. Shakspeare puts the following malediction into
the mouth of his Caliban:

"As wicked dew as ere my mother brush'd
With Raven's feather, from unwholesome fen
Drop on you both! "t

* That the science of augury is very ancient, we learn from the Hebrew
lawgiver, who prohibits it, as well as every other kind of divination. Deut.
chap, xviii. The Romans derived their knowledge of augury chiefly from
the Tuscans or Etrurians, who practised it in the earliest times. This art
was known in Italy before the time of Romulus, since that prince did not
commence the building of Rome till he had taken the auguries. The suc-
cessors of Romulus, from a conviction of the usefulness of the science, and
at the same time not to render it contemptible, by becoming too familiar, em-
ployed the most skilful augurs from Etruria, to introduce the practice of it
into their religious ceremonies. And by a decree of the senate, some of the
youth of the best families in Rome were annually sent into Tuscany, to be
instructed in this art. Vide Ciceron. de Divin. Also Calraet, and tlie abb£

t Tempest, act i. scene 2.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

The ferocious wife of Macbeth, on being advised of the
approach of Duncan, whose death she had conspired, thus
exclaims:

"The Raven himself is hoarse,
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements ! "*

The Moor of Venice says:

" It comes o'er my memory,
As doth the Raven o'er the infected house,
Boding- to all."t

The last quotation alludes to the supposed habits of this
bird flying over those houses which contain the sick, whose
dissolution is at hand, and thereby announced. Thus Mar-
lowe, in the Jew of Malta, as cited by Malone:

" The sad presaging Raven tolls

The sick man's passport in her hoUow beak.

And in the shadow of silent night

Doth shake contagion from her sable wing."

But it is the province of philosophy to dispel those illu-
sions which bewilder the mind, by pointing out the simple
truths which Nature has been at no pains to conceal, but
which the folly of mankind has shrouded in all the obscu-
rity of mystery.

The Raven is a general inhabitant of the United States,
but is more common in the interior. On the lakes, and
particularly in the neighbourhood of the Falls of the river
Niagara, they are numerous; and it is a remarkable fact,
that where they so abound, the common Crow, C. corone,
seldom makes its appearance; being intimidated, it is con-
jectured, by the superior size and strength of the former, or
by the antipathy which the two species manifest towards
other. This I had an opportunity of observing myself, in
a journey during the months of August and September,
along the lakes Erie and Ontario. The Ravens were seen
every day, prowling about in search of the dead fish, which
the waves are continually casting ashore, and which aflbrd
them an abundance of a favourite food ; but I did not see or
hear a single Crow within several miles of the lakes; and
but a very few through the whole of the Gennesee country.

The food of this species is dead animal matter of all kinds,
not excepting the most putrid carrion, which it devours in
common with the Vultures; worms, grubs, reptiles and
shell-fish, the last of which, in the manner of the Crow, it
drops from a considerable height in the air, on the rocks, in
order to break the shells; it is fond of birds eggs, and is

Act i. scene 5.

t Otliello, act iv. scene 1.

often observed sneaking around the farm-house, in search
of the eggs of the domestic poultry, which it sucks with
eagerness; it is likewise charged with destroying young
ducks and chickens, and lambs which have been yeaned in
a sickly state. The Raven, it is said, follows the hunters of
deer for the purpose of falling heir to the offal;* and the
huntsmen are obliged to cover their game, when it is left in
the woods, with their hunting frocks, to secure it from this
thievish connoisseur, who, if he have an opportunity, will
attack the region of the kidneys and mangle the saddle
without ceremony.

Buflfon says, that "the Raven plucks out the eyes of
Buffaloes, and then ^.rn?^ on the back, fears off' the flesh
deliberately; and what renders the ferocity more detestable,
it is not incited by the cravings of hunger, but by the appe-
tite for carnage; for it can subsist on fruits, seeds of all kinds,
and indeed may be considered an omnivorous animal."
This is mere fable, and of a piece with many other absurdi-
ties of the same agreeable, but fanciful author.

This species is found almost all over the habitable globe.
We trace it in the north from Norway to Greenland, and
hear of it in Kamtschatka. It is common every where in
Russia and Siberia, except within the Arctic circle; and all
through Europe. Kolben enumerates the Raven among the
birds of the Cape of Good Hope; De Grandpre represents
it as numerous in Bengal, where they are said to be protected
for their usefulness; and the unfortunate La Perouse saw
them at Bale de Castries, on the east coast of Tartary;
likewise at Port des Francois; 58° 37' north latitude, and
139° 50' west longitude; and at Monterey Bay, north Cali-
fornia. The English circumnavigators met with them at
Nootka Sound; and at the Sandwich Islands, two being
seen in the village of Kakooa; also at Owhyhee, and sup-
posed to be adored there, as they were called Eatoos. Our
intrepid American travellers, under the command of Lewis
and Clark, shortly after they embarked on the river Colum-
bia, saw abundance of Ravens, which were attracted thither
by the immense quantity of dead salmon which lined the
shores. They are found at all seasons in Hudson's Bay;
are frequent in Mexico; and it is more than probable that
they inhabit the whole continent of America.

The Raven measures, from the tip of the bill to the end
of the tail, twenty-six inches, and is four feet in extent; the
bill is large and strong, of a shining black, notched near the
tip, and three inches long, the sestaceous feathers which
cover the nostrils extend half its length; the eyes are black;
the general colour is a deep glossy black, with steel-blue re-
flections; the lower parts are less glossy; the tail is rounded,

» This is the case in those parts of the United States where the deer are
hunted without dogs: where these are employed they are generally rewarded
with the offal.

280

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

and extends about two inches beyond the wing: the fea-
thers on the breast have a curly appearance; the legs are two
inches and a half in length, and, with the feet, are strong
and black; the claws are long.

This bird is said to attain to a great age; and its plumage
to be subject to change, from the influence of years and of
climate. It is found in Iceland and Greenland entirely
white.

The voice of the Raven is exceedingly harsh, and croak-
ing, and is uttered chiefly when flying, and may be heard
at the distance of nearly one mile, on a clear, still day.

The Raven was the constant attendant of Lewis and
Clark's party, in their long and toilsome journey. During
the winter, at Fort Mandan, they were observed in im-
mense numbers, notwithstanding the cold was so excessive,
that, on the seventeenth of December, 1S04, the thermo-
meter of Fahrenheit stood at 45° below 0.

The Raven is a bird found in every region of the world;
strong and hardy, he is uninfluenced by the change of the
weather; and when other birds seem numbed with cold, or
pining with famine, the Raven is active and healthy, busily
employed in prowling for prey, or sporting in the coldest
atmosphere. As the heats of the line do not oppress him,
so he bears the cold of the polar countries with equal indif-
ference. He is sometimes, indeed, seen milk-white, and
this may probably be the effect of the rigorous climates of
the north.

When the Raven is taken as a domestic, he has many
qualities that renders him extremely amusing. Busy, in-
quisitive, and impudent, he goes every where, affronts and
drives off the dogs, plays his pranks on the poultry, and is
particularly assiduous in cultivating the goodwill of the
cook maid, who seems to be the favourite of the family.
But then, with the amusing qualities of a favourite, he often
also has the vices and defects. He is a glutton by nature,
and a thief by habit. He does not confine himself to petty
depredations on the pantry or the larder; he soars at more
magnificent plunder; at spoils which he can neither exhibit
nor enjoy; but which, like a miser, he rests satisfied with
having the satisfaction of sometimes visiting and contem-
plating in secret. A piece of money, a tea-spoon, or a
ring, are always tempting baits to his avarice; these he will
slily seize upon, and, if not watched, will carry to his fa-
vourite hole.

In his wild state, the Raven is an active and greedy plun-
derer. Nothing comes amiss to him. If in his flights he
perceives no hope of carrion, (and his scent is so exquisite,
that he can smell it at a vast distance), he then contents him-
self with more unsavoury food, fruits, insects, and the acci-
dental deserts of a dunghill. This bird chiefly builds its nest

in trees, and lays five or six eggs of a pale green colour,
marked with small brownish spots.

Notwithstanding the injury these birds do in picking out
the eyes of sheep and lambs, when they find them sick and
helpless, a vulgar respect is paid them as being the birds
that fed the prophet Elijah in the wilderness. This pre-
possession in favour of the Raven is of very ancient date,
as the Romans themselves, who thought the bird ominous,
paid it, from motives of fear, the most profound venera-
tion. One of these that had been kept in the temple of
Castor, as Pliny informs us, flew down into the shop of a
tailor, who took much delight in the visits of his new ac-
quaintance. He taught the bird several tricks; but particu-
larly to pronounce the name of the Emperor Tiberius and
the whole royal family. The tailor was beginning to grow
rich by those who came to see this wonderful Raven, till
an envious neighbour, displeased at the tailor's success,
killed the bird, and deprived the tailor of his future hopes
of fortune. The Roman's, however, took the poor tailor's
part; they punished the man who offered the injury, and
gave the Raven all the honours of a magnificent entertain-
ment.

Birds in general live longer than quadrupeds; and the
Raven is said to be one of the most long-lived of the num-
ber. Some of them have been known to live near a hun-
dred years. This animal, indeed, seems possessed of those
qualities that generally produce longevity, namely, a good
appetite, and great exercise."

TO BLOW EGGS FOR PRESERVATION

IN CABINETS.

A READV method of effecting this purpose, is to take a tube
either of glass or metal, one end of which is drawn out, or
fashioned to a point, (the tube being large enough to hold
the contents of the egg.) and having made a pin hole at the
side of the egg, large enough to admit the point of the pipe,
(one sixth part of an inch) apply the mouth to the large end,
and suck as hard as possible. The contents of the egg will
immediately rise into the tube. Having blown them out
into a basin, suck a little clean water into the tube and blow
it into the egg; shake the egg for about a minute, and draw
out the water again into the tube, and it will leave the egg
perfectly clean. The common dropping tube of the chem-
ist, which has a ball in the middle of it, answers this pur-
pose extremely well. — Loudon'' s Mag. of Nat. History,
March, 1831.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

AN ADVENTURE.

How direful are the effects of revenge.-

It was on as beautiful an autumnal day, as ever ushered
in the Indian summer, that I made an excursion after game
among a groupe 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 been a resident there for some years ;
and, when leisure from my arduous avocations permitted,
I always indulged myself with the favourite amusement of
hunting.

I said the day was beautiful. When I arose from my
bed, the stars were yet twinkling in the azure space above,
while feebly, but most beautifully, the sparkling frost which
spread the earth as a woolly carpet, reflected back, like my-
riads of gems, its borrowed light to the heavens; not a
breath of air disturbed the fading leaves of the wood, and the
reigning silence was broken only by the monotonous tone
of a neighbouring cascade, while the pearly horizon of the
east, betokened the approach of that hour which was to give
life and activity to a slumbering world; my heart was light,
and nerved with youthful vigor, and the healthfulness of tlie
opening morn, I felt as though I could wield my rifle
with unerring aim. Ere the sun arose I eat my breakfast;
and after giving all necessary orders for the day, to the man
at my saw-mill, I accoutred myself for hunting and sallied
forth alone among the hills in search of game. Bending
my way towards some salt springs which were witliin a tew
miles of my dwelling, I kept the mountain ridge with the
expectation of encountering some large game, until I found
it necessary to descend to that part of the valley which con-
tained the springs. A few years previous to the above pe-
4B

riod, these springs were resorted to by herds of deer and
other animals, for the purpose of licking the saline sedi-
ment which every where adhered to the roots of those
trees, bushes, and stones that were wasiied by the salt water
while flowing down the vale, in consequence of which,
hunters for many miles around, made frequent excursions
to this spot, in order to lie in ambush for such animals as
might approach this salt-lick, until at last it had become so
notorious, and frequented by so many hunters, that a visit
here was sometimes attended with danger, and no longer
scarcely with success. This spot had been no doubt for
ages, and until within a few years, a place of resort, not
only for deer, but for other animals of the ruminant order,
such as elk, moose, &c. but as the country became popu-
lated by settlers, no traces of these animals (except the deer)
were left, other than here and there a horn of an elk or
moose was found, and preserved by the neighbours,and placed
over their fire places, as relics of days gone by. Here, too,
perhaps in ages past, the Mastodon in his majesty and strength
strode with giant step, uninterrupted in his course, the mon-
arch and terror of this then unknown wilderness.

I liad frequently in my hunting excursions, steered my
course for these springs in the same track which I took on
the above period, and mostly killed one or two deer before
I reached my destined spot, but always depended more on
my success when laying in ambush behind my favourite logs
near the spring, where I had for years killed many deer.

The season, however, of watchfulness commenced usually
at twilight in the evening, as these animals seldom wander-
ed before that period, and as moonlight nights were prefer-
able for these ruminants to browse, and visit the salt licks,
it was not only more interesting to lay in ambuscade for
them, but insured a greater degree of success, and it frequently
happened, that when they visited the springs undisturbed.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

they would remain within a short circle of this spot, feeding
on the buds and variety of herbs about it, until the approach
of dawn, when, instead of departing for other places, they
would make their lair in the immediate neighbourhood un-
til the next evening. Under these circumstances, I often
very cautiously approached the favoured spot, and surprised
several deer during the day time, and seldom returned
without killing one, and sometimes more — hence my rea-
son for making it an invariable rule during my excursions
to visit the springs. At the salt lick there was a particular
spot more visited than all others by the deer, and into
this, within a circle of twelve feet, I had, in five successive
seasons, shot eighty-three deer, most of which fell within
these bounds; and in order to allow for the variable winds,
and prevent the animals from scenting me, I had three logs
in different positions, behind which I would ensconse my-
self and there await the approach of the unsuspecting game.
On the day of my present adventure I had kept the summit
of the mountain for several miles, without success, for a breeze
had arisen shortly after sun rise which rattled through the
trees, and made it unfavourable for hunting on high 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 pre-
ceded me here, I left the spot for another mountain on
which I intended to pass the remainder of the day, gradu-
ally working my way home. This mountain was covered
with chesnut trees, and here it was, that I caught a glimpse
of the bear, from the other ridge, and found he had disap-
peared but a short time previous to my arrival on this moun-
tain; I followed his track for three miles, for chesnuts 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 food 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 mountain side and around the turn of the
mountain, with tiie hopes of surprising the bear, and after a
rapid chase for the distance above mentioned, all proved fruit-
less and I relinquished further pursuit. Warm with this exer-
cise, and somewhat fatigued, I descended the mountain side,
and took my seat beside a stream of water which gently wash-
ed the base of the mountain, and emptied itself in the head
waters of the Susquehannah.

It was now mid-day, and the sun shone, unobstructed by
clouds,on the beautiful sheet of transparentwater, which flow-
ed its murmuring ripples at my feet. This stream was the out-

let of a small but beautiful lake, which lay embedded be-
tween two lofty mountains, crowned with the variegated
tints of the autumn, while on the unruffled bosom of the lake,
as on a glassy mirror the dazzling brightness of the noon-day
sun, glistened with peculiar lustre, and gave additional in-
terest and beauty to the golden crowned hills, which tow-
ered their lofty summits toward the heavens.

I sat eating chesnuts, with my rifle by my side, and amus-
ing myself with the shoals of little minnows, which kept edg-
ing their noses against the current; I would chew my chesnuts
into crumbs, throw to them, and be delighted at their grace-
ful dexterity, in securing the scattered fragments as they float-
ed swiftly down the stream — then again I watched the eagles'
flight, as with outstretched pinions, he soared majestically
above the hills, with that independence and grandeur which
rank him king of birds — and then I raised my eyes to the
mountain tops, and wondered whether these were among
the everlasting hills, which nature, in her chaotic move-
ments, raised from the waters, and stamped onthem a dura-
tion coequal with time. While thus communing with na-
ture, my mind was insensibly borne from the object which
first led me from my home; for what reflecting mind can
behold the surrounding beauties in the wilds of the forest,
which are intruded on his sight whithersoever he turns his
head, without having imparted to his feelings the serenity
and sublimity, which ever there abide during the autumnal
season of the year; the only noise which strikes the ear, is
the gurgling brook, which unceasingly runs its troubled
course, or the hollow roaring of some distant waterfall,
sometimes loud, and again dying gentlj^ into stillness, as
the passing zephyrs may vary or waft it to the ear; or the
mournful sounds of the northern breezes when agitating the
forests, and whirling the sear and yellow leaves from their
parent stems, and singing mournfully, the requiem of the
departing beauties of the vegetable world; who, amid all
these, solitary and reflecting, but may be led on by a train of
thought, until his mind is involved in that deep contemplation
from which it requires more than ordinary means to extricate
it. This was my state, until I was aroused from my reverie
by that which comprises the chief part of my adventure.

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 of
the wind, whirling the leaves from the ground, but it in-
creased so rapidly, and approached so near the spot where-
I sat, that I instinctively seized my rifle, ready in a moment
to meet any emergency which might ofler.

That part of the mountain where I was seated, was cover-
ed with laurel and other bushes, and owing to the density

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

of this shrubbery, I could not discover an object more than
ten yards from me: this, as will afterwards appear, afford-
ed 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 un-
natural, grunting noise, as if from some animal in great dis-
tress. 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 endeavours
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-
out scarcely a thought, I brought my rifle to my shoulder
with the intention of shooting, but before I could sight it cor-
rectly, 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 pass-
ed the rock, I determined to await the result of such extra-
ordinary 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 con-
vinced me that the bear had good cause for its precipita-
tion; 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. I was completely taken
by surprise, and aroused from my reverie, relaxed in
nerve, and with that lassitude of feeling as when struggling
in a dream with some hideous monster, from which you
endeavour to escape, and by the energies of your mind
awake, and feel unnerved and helpless by the excitement,
and transit from one state of feeling to another: so was it
with me. I had been calmly enjoying the solitude of the
place, and beguiling one fleeting hour in the enjoyment of
its beauties, and my state of feeling was as contrary as
possible to what it should have been, to enable me to en-
counter successfully a scene like that just described; but
had my feelings been other than they were, I might have
•laid the panther sprawling in the water, and relieved
the bear from the horrors of a death, which he seemed well
aware awaited him, without the possibility of escape, but
in my surprise and stupefaction of the moment, I was de-
terred from doing that which would have prevented me

from witnessing a scene I never can forget, and which de-
monstrated with such terrible eflects, the revengful disposi-
tion of an infuriated monster.

The panther plunged into the water not more than eigh-
teen or twenty yards from me, and had it been but one-third
of that distance, I feel convinced, I would have been unheed-
ed 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 character-
istic 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 predomi-
nated in the passions of this animal, which put all laws of
instinct at defiance, and unlike the clumsy hustling 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 mo-
ment 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
of which was in the wrong, I could not help wishing safety
to the bear, and death to the panther, and, under the im-
pulse 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 shrunk from the eflbrt,
— perhaps it was well I reserved my fire, for had I only
wounded the animal, I might have been a victim to its fe-
rocity.

So soon as the bear finding there was no possibility of
escape from an issue with so dreaded an enemy, than, on
reaching the opposite bank of the stream, it shook the water
from its hair like a dog, and ran about fifteen feet on the
bank, and laid directly on its back in a defensive posture;
this it had scarcely done, when the panther reached the wa-
ter's edge, and then with a yell of vengeance, it made one
bound, and sprang with outstretched claws and spittino- 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 pan-
ther tear in scattered fragments, the helpless bear ; it appear-
ed but the work of a moment, and that moment was one of
unrelenting vengeance, for no sooner did the panther ali"-ht
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 in want of en-
ergy, for it was so overcome with dread, as not to be able to
make the least resistance.

Satisfied in glutting its vengeance, the panther turned

284 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

from the bear, and came directly to the water's edge to drink, To me, the cause of this battle was, and must forever
and allay the parching thirst created by so great excite- remain a mystery. I spent much time on the spot endeav-
ment, after which it looked first down and then up the ouring to account for the cause, and the only good reason
stream, as though it sought a place to recross, that it might I can give, I obtained by inference and circumstantial evi-
avoid the water, and then, as if satiated with revenge, and dence,

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 pros-
pect 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 perpen-
dicularly, with a tremendous growl, which reverberated
among the rocks, and fell in the same spot whence it sprang,
with all 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, un-
til I could no longer discover signs of life. I therefore re-
loaded my rifle, and with a second shot, I pierced immedi-
ately behind the ear; its head then dropped between its
paws, and all was quiet. My next difiiculty was to cross
the stream, as I did not like to wade it, unless every other
means to gain the opposite shore should fail; I accordingly
walked a considerable distance down the stream, and was
fortunate enough to cross, by means of a fallen tree, against
which a large quantity of drift-wood had lodged, and form-
ed a complete bridge. On my approach to the dead animals,
I felt an involuntary restraint against going too near them,
for although I had the plainest demonstration that both were
dead, yet the scene of strife I had witnessed, its unexpected,
fatal, and sudden termination, had so involved my feelings
in tremor, that I could not divest myself of a cowardly fear,
which indeed too many feel under less terrifying circum-
stances, but have not candour enough to acknowledge it.

Perhaps, too, my success in destroying the panther con-
tributed to the excitement. However, after a short inter-
val, my calmness and nerve returned, and I took a survey of
the late belligerents. I gave but a momentary glance at the
panther, wliich lay perfectly dead on its belly, with the legs
and claws fully extended, and griped firmly in the earth.
The bear lay about twenty-five feet up the bank, dead, yet
bleeding, and with its entrails torn completely from the ab-
domen, presented a most pitiful appearance, and displayed,
with horrid aspect, the ferocious energies of its powerful an-
tagonist, when roused to madness and revenge; but how in-
ferior in all their terrors, are the natural strength and ferocity
of the most dreaded wild animals, to the physical and men-
tal powers of man. In the present instance, the victor had
breathed but a few pulsations after the strife, ere, by the
wonderful invention of the rifle, it was hushed in death
forever.

On examining the panther, no marks of violence appeared,
except, where my rifle balls had passed completely through,
within a foot of each other, hut on turning the animal on its
back, I discovered it to be a female, and a mother, and, by
the enlargement of her teats, had evidently been suckling
her j'oung. From this circumstance, I supposed the bear
had made inroads upon her lair, and more than probable
destroyed her kittens. I was the more convinced of this,
from the fact, that I never knew from my own experience,
nor could I gather from the oldest hunters among my acquain-
tance, an instance wherein a panther and a hear came in colli-
sion with each other, or enter into deadly strife; 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 ani-
mal as a bear. Under these views, I feel satisfied that my
inference was correct.

It was now nearly five o'clock, and the sun was sinking
fast behind the western hills, and the valleys already began
to wear a sombre aspect from the broad shadows of the
mountains. I had upwards of seven miles to retrace my
steps, and one-third of this distance was up a rugged and
lofty mountain; and bidding adieu to the manes of these
departed worthies, and leaving them where many a warrior
has been left — on the field of battle — I sought my home
with rapid strides, satisfied that as a hunter, I had passed
an eventful day; and although I might have killed on my
return to my habitation, towards the approach of evening
several deer, yet after my success, and the magnitude of my
adventure, they appeared so innocent, and trifling in my
sight, that I thought it unworthy of my skill to shoot them,
and therefore let them pass; and my mind being so filled
with the scenes of the day, that time and distance passed
unheeded, and shortly after dark I reached my home, wel-
comed by a watchful and solicitous family. M.
Philadelphia, Dec. 1831.

A PARTY of gentlemen, in Belchertown, Mass. held a hunt
recently, for squirrels, rabbits, woodpeckers, and owls. —
The party was divided into two sets of twenty each. Af-
ter the day's hunt the game was counted, and the result of
the sport announced. One side counted 433, and expected
to win, but it was soon announced that the other side count-
ed precisely the same number; of course the supper, &c.
which seems to have been the prize contended for, was
paid for mutually. — Jim. Tw-f Reg.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

TO A WILD DEER.

A FINE live Deer was run down recently in the borough
of Columbia, Lancaster county. It is supposed that it was
driven in by some of the neighbouring dogs, and when
taken was much exhausted.

Why didst thou leave thy native woods,

Child of the forest! here to roam,
And quit the murmur of the floods

That revel in thy mountain home?
Why did'st thou thus resign thy glen
To die amid the haunts of men ?

There's freedom on the rocks and hills,

A liberty that nature gives.
Whose very inspiration fills

The heart of every thing that lives.
And seems to throw a noble air
O'er every form that wanders there.

Nay, e'en the very trees that rear

Their branches to the summer sky,
In their wind-shaken leaves appear

To have a sense of majesty,
And lift their heads as though they felt
They grew in scenes where freedom dwelt.

There couldst thou lift thy antlered brow,
And pace the wilds in conscious pride.

Climbing the steeps where wild flowers grow,
Or plunging in the torrent's tide,

Daring alike to scale or swim.

With eye unmoved and dauntless limb.

The crags and peaks were all thine own,
The rivers and the rocks were thine,

Thou wert a monarch on thy throne,

Treading the cliffs where sun-beams shine;

The monarch of the hills wert thou — .

Chief of the proud and antlered brow!

Along the misty valley's shade

Thy footstep roamed at break of morn.

The echoes of thy native glade

Ne'er heard the clang of hound or horn.

The blackbird's note, the wolf's loud bay

Were all that met thee on thy wa}'.

Wild nature was around thee there
In all its rich, romantic grace;
4 C

It seemed as though the very air

Partook the spirit of the place;
Whate'er it was in other eyes.
To thee it seemed a paradise.

Then why did'st thou forsake thy wild.
Amid the haunts of men to stray?

The rocks that on thy hills are pil'd

Are not more hard — more bleak than they.

Thou'st come from sunny glen and sky.

By human hearths at last to die!

Like thee, poor deer! when genius leaves
The quiet home it once had known.

And from the ingrate world receives
The meed of cold neglect alone, —

Like thee it turns away in pain,

And wishes for the shades again.

C. W. T.

Gentlemen:

I observed in one of your Nos. of the Cabinet, an account
of an attempt to domesticate the Partridge. If an attempt
of a similar kind, though not of equal success, made by my-
self, with the comrnon Quail,'^ during the fall and winter of
1S30, is of any service to your work, you have my entire
liberty to use it. I had been passing a few weeks in the
country, about fifteen miles from this city, and was out one
morning in pursuit of woodcock, when my dog came upon
a dead point, in an open meadow, upon a bird not twelve
feet beyond him. Surprised at the apparent tameness or
stupidity of the bird, I approached with a view of taking it,
if possible, alive; and I was able to advance within about
six feet of her, before she flew. I then perceived it was a
Quail upon her nest, which contained fifteen young, appa-
rently not more than a day old. I thought this would be an
excellent opportunity of making an experiment I had long
wished for — of domesticating the Quail; and, therefore, not-
withstanding my compunctions of conscience in thus bereav-
ing the distressed mother of her offspring, I took them up,
nest and all, and carried them home, accompanied by their
mother, who was continually uttering the most violent out-
cries, as if to reproach me with my cruelty. When I arrived
at home I put the nest, with all its contents, in a large cage,
and suspended it from a limb of an apple tree, out of the
way of cats and other enemies of the feathered tribe. I
then retired to a distance, leaving the door of the cage open,
for the purpose of observing, whether the mother would

» One is the Quail of the North, and the other the Partridge of the South.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

enter to feed her young, or desert them entirely; the mo-
ment I was out of sight, she flew on the top of the cage,
looking down through the wires with the greatest apparent
agony, and making every attempt to get through; at last,
having succeeded in finding the door, she entered, and
having caressed them for a few moments, she flew oS" for
food, but soon returned, and became apparently well pleased
with her new residence, where she remained the whole
of that day and night, and part of the next; then she was
seen no more; whether she was killed, or sacrificed her off-
spring to the fears for her own safety, I know not, but after
waiting till night-fall, without seeing or hearing from her,
I took the fifteen young Quails under my own care. They
bore the closest possible resemblance to chickens, and had
all the manners of chickens, the same chirp, and in a day or
two the same way of pecking when let into the yard ;
their food, for the first day or two, was given them in small
pills of the size of a pea, and consisted of dough; in three
days from the time they were taken, they fed themselves in
the manner of fowls; one, the largest, and apparently the
oldest, acting as leader or father of the flock, which they fol-
lowed as young chickens do a mother. Their extreme youth
when taken, and the manner of their bringing up, had ob-
literated all recollection of their mother, and destroyed all
fear of man, they ran to me at the sound of my voice as
they would to the call of their own parent. I kept them now
in a box lined with raw cotton, they grew and prospered
wonderfully, being extremely lively, and always washing
and dressing themselves when the sun was warm, and being
much tamer than young chickens. I kept them in this way
for six weeks, till the nights became quite cool, when it
being impossible to supply the natural warmth of their
mother by cotton, one cold night killed eight of them.
I then placed the box on a warm stove, which would pre-
serve the heat very well during the day and the early part
of the night, but it being impossible to keep it exactly regu-
lated all night, the cold again affected them, and one by one
they died. If I had taken them in the spring, instead of
the fall, 1 have no doubt my experiment would have suc-
ceeded.

With great respect,

ONE OF YOUR SUBSCRIBERS.
Boston, Dec. Idth, 1S31.

UNITED BOWMEN.

JMessrs. Editors,

I have promised you a notice for one of your Nos. of
the annual meeting of the United Bowmen, for the purpose

of trying their skill in competition for the prize of 1831;
and you have compelled me to keep that promise. I am
sorry for it, for two reasons; the first is — but I must get at
that, by giving you a little incident, in the form of a dia-
logue, in which you may consider the party called Tom as
myself

" Uncle, did you see that star shoot just now?

No, my boy.

Do stars turn round, uncle?

No, Tom, the earth turns round.

Don't it turn round like a top, uncle?

Something like a top, Tom.

Well, uncle, mother gave me a top to-day for being at
the head of the class."

Now its out; I got the prize myself, and did not know
how to say so. So much for the first; the second is easy
enough to tell.

The shooting was so bad, that we don't relish the idea of
its going into print; to these two reasons for reluctance, a
word of apology may be edged in, as "a plea in mitigation
of damages," as our friend ^ would say in court; and
that is, a prize shooting always results in a worse display of
skill than any other time. Allow me to say for my com-
petitors, while I am apologizing, that I did not get the prize
for shooting better than they did, but because I did not
shoot quite so bad. Let me also remark, that some of the
gentlemen engaged in this contest, had never drawn a bow
but at one or two practisings, in anticipation of this meet-
ing. Let this fact account for the registry of two, three,
and five hits, as reported hereafter.

The report of the captain of the target for that day, con-
tains all of interest in connection with the subject. I shall
copy it for the information of your readers.

"In compliance with the duties that have devolved on
me as captain of the target, on the twenty-fourth day of
September, I proceed to lay before you the result of the
contest on that day. It is the fourth annual meeting for
the purpose of testing the skill of the members of our asso-
ciation, and rewarding its successful demonstration. I
cannot resist the expression of the high degree of satisfac-
tion that I have experienced, for three successive years, in
acting as your captain, on a day of so much interest and
excitement in witnessing the great urbanity of deportment
that has existed at each of these contests; the more remark-
able in consequence of the keen rivalship so honourable to
zealous archers. This spirit has prevailed so fully, that
the office which I have held has been nearly a nomi-
nal one; that of umpire and register altogether unnecessary,
and being so, I judged it useless to tax any of our friends
with the apparent responsibilit_y."

The day selected for the trial was ushered in by gentle

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

breezes from the south west, attended by a thin veil of
clouds. The breeze died away by two o'clock, P. M.
leaving us the afternoon free alike from sun or wind.

The ground was measured, targets placed, ropes adjust-
ed, and all other duties performed, by the various squads
detailed for those purposes, the roll called, and the regula-
tions read previous to three o'clock, precisely at which
time the shooting commenced.

It is not a little amusing to witness the varied expressions
of the diflerent individuals, vvhen they take their places on
the stand; their gentlemanly deportment, to which I have
before alluded, prevents all further demonstration of their
feelings than that which is evinced by the compressed or
quivering lip, or the bent brow; and towards the conclusion
when so much depends on firmness, the determination to
subdue the trembling of anxiety, so fatal to success in our
pleasing but difficult art.

We would not envy that man's feelings, though he should
win the prize, who could be insensible to the reflection, that
some heart in the neighbouring group, was then beating res-
ponsive, with pulsations more anxious than his own, that
those bright eyes would follow, and fain direct, the quiver-
ing arrow as it flew, and those lips that are for us such kind
advocates, were then breathing, a gentle prayer for our suc-
cess; he that could not feel under such circumstances, let
him be for ever unblest, and let his arrow, like the seventh
bullet of the wild huntsman, recoil upon himself.

This is not all fancy, for the excitement of the occasion
has, nearly in every case, prevented that successful de-
monstration of skill, so desirable for a prize contest. The
following is the number and value of the hits of each com-
petitor, and in the order in which they are enumerated :

nearest to centre.

79 233

By which it will be seen that ^ was entitled to the first
prize, which was accordingly presented to him by ^

The secondary prize, it will also be seen, was won by
the twice lucky 3

There were but three hits in the Gold during the after-
noon, and, as a curious coincidence, let me remark, that
like the last year Q held his post nearest to the centre
until late in the afternoon, when he was displaced, by the

1st

A

20 hits 1

^alue 66

2

13 «

" 41

3

5

6 "

" 14

4

I

9 «

" 23

5

3

13 «

34

6

_i

3 "

« 11

7

9 "

" 27

8

^

2 "

u 4

9

1^

5 "

" 13

same fortunate hand that had snatched, in the former year,
not the CUP from his lip, but the buckle from his belt.*

The time of shooting was two hours precisely, and the
distance eighty yards.

It would be jireat injustice to pass without notice, the
handsome style of the new members of the Club, in the
manner of discharging their arrows; it was difficult for those
that knew them not, to say which were the oldest, or which
the youngest archers.

In conclusion, Messrs. Editors, let me, in personal vindi-
cation, remark, that although I have sent you the most ego-
tistical communication you have ever published, yet I am
really the most modest man in the Club, with a single ex-
ception, and he is the M.

Yours, truly,

» Alluding to tlie form of the prizes. ^^

ON BAD PRACTICES AMONG SPORTSMEN.

Messrs. Editors.

Being nothing better than aguu?ier, it will hardly be ex-
pected that I should be much accustomed to writing moral
essays; but were that the case, and my capability unques-
tionable, it might still be doubted whether the columns of
a work like yours, are the most fit in the world to make an
exhibition of my talent. I am no great lecturer on morality;
nor do I wish to be too fastidious in criticising the habits
and manners of my brother sportsmen, yet I cannot help
thinking there are some practices among them, which might
be amended, and a few perhaps entirel}' omitted, without
taking from their characters as choice spirits, or diminish-
ing in any degree the pleasures of their pursuits; and,
therefore, as in general they have but little morality in the
field, I will, with your permission, give them a smattering
of it in the closet.

It has been said, and the saying has been ten thousand
times quoted that, "No man is a hero to his valet de cham-
bre;" and as I have no pretensions to the character of a
hero, nor yet filled the situation of a valet, (though heaven
alone knows what any of us may come to), I am unable to
vouch for the truth of this doctrine; but I can certainly see
no reason why a sportsman should not be a gentleman
even to his dog.

Of what use therefore, is it to 'daimi^ a dog for every
fault he commits? To hie him on! to call him back! or to
bring him to the down charge! in tlie language of a black-
guard! And what good purpose can it possibly answer, to
correct him for an ordinary error, in a speech garnished with
oaths of such vulgar grossness, as would disgrace the most
abandoned of the inhabitants of Bridewell?

I was once acquainted with an old gunner, who, though

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

he laid no claim to the refinements of gentility, acted upon
such occasions, if not more rationally, at least in a much less
disgusting manner than many of our high bloods, and would-
be tip-top sportsmen. Whenever his dog behaved amiss,
he would call him in, and, taking him by the ears, give them
a reasonable shaking (ndt too hard, for he loved him as the
apple of his eye) and in a tone of voice between anger and af-
fection, address him somewhat after the following manner:
" Come in here, Pluto! why dont you mind? Here I've been
callingyou these ten minutes! you ought to know there was no
game there! I told you so before; but you've got so now
you wont mind me at all. There's plenty of work for you
to do where there's game, and here you are running about
where there is'nt a bird; tiring yourself all for nothing;
and lame as you are too. Do you think your foot will ever
get well if you go on so? you foolish fellow. You'll be
knock'd up before night, and to-morrow you wont be able
to hunt at all. Now go along with you! and mind what
you're about; or else I'll serve you a good deal worse next
time, you'll see if I dont. Hie on, sir."

This simple hearted old man, to be sure treated his dog
as though he was a biped of his family, reasoning with him
like a rational creature; and, for ought I know, the animal
understood him well enough, too, for there seems no rea-
son why a brute should not understand remonstrance as well
as low-lived abuse; and I certainly think my old friend's
method liable to less objection than the other.

I know that dogs are sometimes unruly, and act in a
manner calculated to try the patience, but such of them as
do so constantly, are not worth keeping; and a man had
better part with a bad dog, than acquire a bad habit. If
gentlemen will be at more pains to procure the best blooded
animals, and have them well broke before they take them
out for regular hunting, few occasions of exciting their
wrath will occur, and a great deal of breath may be hus-
banded for the day's work which is generally wasted in
abusing their dogs. Besides a sportsman ought never to be
in a passion. Philosophical coolness should characterize
his conduct in the field, particularly in relation to his dogs,
who are often made unsteady by the violent manner in
which they are corrected for errors real or supposed. I
say supposed, because it not unfrequently happens, with
the younger class of gunners, that the master is more in fault,
than his dog. I knew an instance of a gallant of this stamp,
swearing himself hoarse at a pointer that was out of sight,
when, upon advancing a few yards farther into the cover,
the dog was discovered standing to a brace of woodcock.

I trust, that this admonition against the absurd and un-
gentlemanly vice of swearing, in connection with sporting
transactions, will be taken in good part by my fellow-sin-
ners, (for I have been a sad delinquent that way myself,)

and produce reformation in some of them; as it will, by no
means, lessen their enjoyments, and add much to their
respectability.

I remain, gentlemen, yours, &c.

D. J.
Neiu York, July, 1831.

SAGACITY OF BEES.

The following anecdote is extracted from a letter from a
farmer in Pennsylvania, to a friend in England:

"The sagacity of these animals, which have long been
the tenants of my farm, astonishes me; some of them seem
to surpass even men in memory and sagacity. I could tell
you singular instances of that kind. What then is this in-
stinct which we so debase, and of which we are taught to
entertain so diminutive an idea? My bees, above all other
tenants of my farm, attract my attention and respect. I am
astonished to see nothing exists but what has its enemy;
one species pursues and lives upon the other. Unfortu-
nately our king birds are the destroyers of these industrious
insects: but, on the other hand, these birds preserve our
fields from the depredations of crows, which they pursue
on the wing with great vigilance and astonishing dexterity.
— Thus divided by two interested motives, I have long re-
sisted the desire I have to kill them, until last year, when
I thought they increased too much, and my indulgence had
been carried too far. It was at the time of swarming,
when they all came and fixed themselves on the neighbour-
ing trees, whence they caught those bees that returned load-
ed from the field. This made me resolve to kill as many as I
could, and I was just ready to fire, when a bunch of bees, as big
as my fist, issued from one of the hives, rushed on one of
these birds, and probably stung him, for he instantly scream-
ed, and flew, not as before, in an irregular manner, but in
a direct line. He was followed by the same bold phalanx,
a considerable distance, which unfortunately becoming too
sure of victory, quitted their military ari'ay, and disbanded
themselves. By this inconsiderate step, they lost all that
aggregate of force which made the bird fly off. Perceiving
their disorder, he immediately returned, and snapped as
many as he wanted; nay, he had even the impudence to
alight on the very twig from which the bees had driven
him. I killed him, and immediately opened his craw, from
which I took 171 bees. I laid them all on a blanket, in
the sun, and, to my great surprise, 54 returned to life, lick-
ed themselves clean, and joyfully went back to the hive;
where they probably informed their campanions of such an
adventure and escape, as I believe had never happened be-
fore to American bees!"

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

289

SPORTING WITH HUIMANITY.

The following narrative is extracted from the journal of a
British officer who served under the Duke of Wellington,
at the time of Massena's memorable retreat from before
Lisbon.

"The French army had long suffered terrible privations.
We all knew that Massena could not much longer retain his
position, and the "Great Lord" (so the Spaniards call
Wellington) allowed famine to do the work of a charge of
bayonets. Our army was weary of the lines. It felt as if
cooped up by an enemy it yet despised, and would have
gladly marched out to storm the formidable French en-
campment; and such was the first idea that struck many of
us, when, on the 5th of March, the army was put in motion,
and the animating music of the regimental bands rang
through the rocky ridges of Torres Vedras. But it was
soon universally understood, that the French were in full
retreat ; there was now no hope of a great pitched battle,
and all that I could expect was, that as our regiment formed
part of the advance, we might now and then have a brush
with the rear-guard of the French, which was, you know,
composed of the flower of the army, and commanded by
Michael Ney, the 'bravest of the brave.'

"I will give you, in another letter, an account of the
most striking scenes I witnessed during the pursuit after our
ferocious enemy. They had been cheated out of a victory
over us, — so they said, and so in Gallic presumption, they
probably felt, — when, some months before, Massena beheld
that army which he threatened to drive into the sea, frown-
ing on him from impregnable heights, all bristling with
cannon. Instead of battle and conquest, and triumph, they
had long remained in hopeless inactivity, and at last, their
convoys being intercepted by the guerillas, they had en-
dured all the intensest miseries of famine. Accordingly,
when they broke up, the soul of the French army was in a
burning fever of savage wrath. The consummate skill of
their leaders, and the unmitigated severity of their disci-
pline, kept the troops in firm and regular order; and cer-
tainly, on all occasions, when I had an opportunity of see-
ing the rear-guard, its movements were most beautiful. I
could not help admiring the mass moving slowly away, like
a multitude of demons, all obeying the signs of one master
spirit. Call me not illiberal in thus speaking of our foe.
Wait till you hear from me a detailed account of their mer-
ciless butcheries, and then you will admit, that a true knight
violates not the laws of chivalry in uttering his abhorrence
of ***** . The ditches were often literally
filled with clotted and coagulated blood, as with mire — the
4 D

bodies of peasants, put to death like dogs, were lying there
horribly mangled; little naked infants, of a year old, or less,
were found besmeared in the mud of the road, transfixed
with bayonet wounds, and in one instance, a child, of about
a month old, I myself saw with the bayonet left still stick-
ing in its neck; young women and matrons were found
lying dead with cruel and shameful wounds; and, as if some
general law to that eflect had been promulgated to the army,
the priests were hanged upon trees by the road side. But
no more of this at present.

"I wish now to give you some idea of a scene I witness-
ed at Miranda do Cervo, on the ninth day of our pursuit;
yet I fear that a sight so terrible cannot be shadowed out,
except in the memory of him who beheld it. 1 entered the
town about dusk. It had been a black, grim, and gloomy
sort of a day — at one time fierce blasts of wind, and at
another perfect stillness, with far-off thunder. Altogether
there was a wild adaptation of the weather and the day to
the retreat of a great army. Huge masses of clouds lay
motionless on the sky before us; and then they would break
up suddenly, as with a whirlwind, and roll off in the red
and bloody distance. I felt myself, towards the fall of the
evening, in a state of strange excitement. My imagination
got the better entirely of all my other faculties, and I was
like a man in a grand but a terrific dream, who never thinks
of questioning any thing he sees or hears, but identifies all
the phantasms around with a strength of belief, seemingly
proportioned to their utter dissimilarity, to the objects of
the real world of nature.

"Just as I was passing the great Cross in the principal
street, I met an old haggard looking wretch — a woman, who
seemed to have in her hollow eyes an unaccountable expres-
sion of cruelty — a glance like that of madness; but her de-
portment was quiet and rational, and she was evidently of
the middle rank of society, though her dress was faded and
squalid. She told me (without being questioned) in broken
English, that I would find comfortable accommodation in
an old convent that stood at some distance, among a grove
of cork trees; pointing to them at the same time with her
long shrivelled hand and arm, and giving a sort of hysteric
laugh. You will find, said she, nobody there to disturb
you.

"I followed her advice with a kind of superstitious ac-
quiescence. There was no reason to anticipate any adven-
ture or danger in the convent; yet the wild eyes and the
wilder voice of the old crone powerfully affected me ; and
though, after all, she was only such an old woman as one
may see any where, I really began to invest her with many
imposing qualities, till I found that, in a sort of reverie, I
had walked up a pretty long flight of steps, and was stand-
ing at the entrance of the cloisters of the convent. I then

290

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

saw something that made me speedily forget the old woman,
though what it was I did see, I could not, in the first mo-
ments of amazement and horror, very distinctly compre-
hend.

"Above a hundred dead bodies lay and sat before my
eyes, all of them apparently in the very attitude or pos-
ture in which they died. I looked at them for at least a
minute, before I knew they were all corpses. Something
in the mortal silence of the place told me that I alone was
alive in this dreadful compan)\ A desperate courage ena-
bled me then to look stedfastly at the scene before me.
The bodies were mostly clothed in mats and rugs, and tat-
tered great-coats; some of them merely wrapped round with
girdles of straw; and two or three perfectly naked. Every
face had a different expression, but all painful, horrid, ago-
nized, bloodless: many glazed eyes were wide open; and,
perhaps, this was the most shocking thing in the whole
spectacle. So many eyes that saw not, all seemingly fixed
upon different objects; some cast up to heaven, some look-
ing strait forward, and some with the while orbs turned
round, and deep sunk in the sockets.

«It was a sort of hospital. These wretched beings were
mostly all desperately or mortally wounded; and after

phemies, and the most shocking obscenities in the shape of
songs, were in like manner written there ; and you may
guess what an eflect they had upon me, when the wretches
who had conceived them lay all dead corpses around my
feet. I saw two books lying oh the floor; I lifted them up;
one seemed to be full of the most hideous obscenity; the
other was the Bible. It is impossible to tell you the horror
produced in me by the circumstance. The books fell from
my hand; they fell upon the breast of one of the bodies; it
was a woman's breast. A woman had lived and died in
such a place as this! What had been in that heart, now
still, perhaps only a few hours before, I knew not. It is
possible, love, strong as death; love, guilty, abandoned, de-
praved, and linked by vice unto misery: but still love, that
perished but with the last throb, and yearned in the last
convulsion towards some one of these grim dead bodies. I
think some such idea as this came across me at the time; or
has it now only arisen ?

"Near this corpse lay that of a perfect boy, certainly not
more than seventeen years of age. There was a little cop-
per figure of the Virgin Mary round his neck, suspended
by a chain of hair. It was of little value, else it had not
been suffered to remain there. In his hand was a letter; I

having been stripped by their comrades, they had been left saw enough to know that it was from his mother; — Mon

there dead and to die. Such were they, who, as the old
hag said, would not trouble me.

*'I had begun to view this ghastly sight with some com-
posure, when I saw, at the remotest part of the hospital, a
gigantic figure sitting, covered with blood, and almost naked,
upon a rude bedstead, with his back leaning against the
wall, and his eyes fixed directly on mine. I thought he was
alive, and shuddered; but he was stone dead. In the last
agonies he had bitten his under lip almost entirely off, and
his long black beard was drenched in clotted gore, that like-
wise lay in large blots on his shaggy bosom. One of his
hands had convulsively grasped the wood-work of the bed-
stead, which had been crushed in the grasp. I recognised
the corpse. He was a serjeant in a grenadier regiment,
and, during the retreat, distinguished for acts of savage
valour. One day he killed, with his own hand, Harry
Warburton, the right hand man of my own company, per-
haps the finest made and most powerful man in the British
army. My soldiers had nick-named him with a very
coarse appellation, and I really felt as if he and I were ac-
quaintances. There he sat, as if frozen to death. I went
up to the body, and raising up the giant's muscular arm, it
fell down again with a hollow sound against the bloody side
of the corpse.

"My eyes unconsciously wandered along the walls.
They were covered with grotesque figures and caricatures
of the English, absolutely drawn in blood. Horrid blas-

cherejils, ^'C. It was a terrible place to think of mother —
of home — of any social human ties. Have these ghastly
things parents, brothers, sisters, lovers? Were they once
all happy in peaceful homes? Did these convulsed, and
bloody, and mangled bodies once lie in undisturbed beds?
Did those clutched hands once press in infancy a mother's
breast? Now all was loathsome, terrible, ghostlike. Hu-
man nature itself seemed here to be debased and brutified.
Will such creatures, I thought, ever live again ? Why
should they? Robbers, ravishers, incendiaries, murderers,
suicides, (for a dragoon lay with a pistol in his hand, and
his skull shattered to pieces,) heroes! The only two pow-
ers that reigned here were agon}^ and death. Whatever
might have been their characters when alive, all faces were
now alike. I could not, in those fixed extortions, tell what
was pain from what was anger — misery from wickedness.

"It was now almost dark, and the night was setting in
stormier than the day. A strong flash of lightning sudden-
ly illuminated this hold of death, and for a moment showed
me more distinctly the terrible array. A loud squall of
wind came round about the building, and the old window
casement gave way, and fell with a shivering crash in upon
the floor. Something rose up with an angry growl from
amongst the dead bodies. It was a huge dark-coloured wolf
dog, with a spiked collar round his neck; and seeing me, he
leaped forwards with gaunt and bony limbs. I am confi-
dent that his jaws were bloody. I had instinctively moved

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

backwards towards the door. The surly savage returned
growling to his lair; and, in a state of stupefaction, I found
myself in the open air. A bugle was playing, and the
light infantry company of my own regiment was entering
the village, with loud shouts and hurras. — London Sport-
ins; Magazine.

DISEASES OF DOGS.

Wild animals, reclaimed from a state of nature and do-
mesticated, are susceptible of great change and variety in
form, colour, and character; and owing, no doubt, to being
thus compelled to assume in some degree, an artificial mode
of life, they are rendered more liable to disorders. Animals
in a state of nature are little subject to disease: and though
the wild Dog subsists on flesh and carrion, it is more than
probable he is never troubled with what is disthiguished by
the appellation of the distemper, or any of that long cata-
logue of disorders, to which the Dog is rendered obnoxious
after having become the companion of man. However,
thus much may be truly observed, that if a Dog be properly
fed and exercised, has plenty of good clean water, and his
bed kept clean, he will not in general be much troubled
with disease; and this rule will be found to obtain more
particularly if he be kept in the country.

The Distemper. — The distemper frequently attacks a
Dog before he has attained his first year. As a preliminary
observation, it may be remarked, that the same membrane
which lines the nostrils extends down the windpipe into
the lungs; and the distemper, in the first instance, may be
regarded as an inflammation of this membrane; which, if
not removed, extends down to the lungs, where suppuration
will soon be produced; when the animal's eye will become
dull, accompanied by a mucus discharge, a cough, and loss
of appetite. As the disease advances, it presents various
appearances, but is frequently attended with twitchings
about the head, while the animal becomes excessively weak
in the loins and hinder extremities; indeed he appears
completely emaciated, and smells intolerably. At length,
the twitchings assume the appearance of convulsive fits,
accompanied with giddiness, which cause the Dog to turn
round: he has a constant disposition to dung, with obstinate
costiveness or incessant purging.

On the first appearance of the symptoms which I have
described, I should recommend the Dog to be bled* very

» Bleeding. — In speaking on this subject, I am not supposing tiiat the
sportsman is a member of the medical profession in any of its branches,
but sufficiently skilled in anatomy to know a vein from an artery, which is

freely, and his body to be opened with a little castor oil or
syrup of buckthorn: this will generally remove the disease
altogether, if applied the moment the first symptoms ap-
pear. If, however, this treatment should not have the
desired effect, and a cough ensues, accompanied with a
discharge at the nose, give him from two grains to eight
of tartar emetic (according to the age and size of the Dog,)
every other day. When the nervous symptoms ensue,
which I have already described, external stimulants (such
as sal-ammoniac and oil, equal parts,) should be rubbed
along the course of the spinal marrow, and tonics given
internally, such as bark, &c.

Of the various remedies, the following was given with
success to a Dog, so afflicted as to be scarcely able to
stand: —

Turbetli's mineral, six grains,

mixed with sulphur, and divided into three doses, one given
every other morning. Let a few days elapse, and repeat
the course.
Another:

Calomel, one grain and a half.
Rhubarb, five grains.

given every other day for a week.
Another:

Antimonial powder, sixteen grains,
Powdered fox-glove, one grain, •

made into four bolusses with conserve of roses, and one
given at night, and another the next morning, for two days.

all the knowledge requisite for performing the operation of bleeding a Dog.
A vein* may be distinguished from an artery by its having no pulsation ;
if an artery of any consequence shall be divided, the blood will flow in irre-
gular gushes, it will be difficult to stop, and may cause the death of the
Dog. However, there is little danger of such an unpleasant circumstance
happening, and an ordinary degree of attention is quite sufficient to obviate
it. The most convenient and the best place to bleed a Dog, is to open a
vein, (the jugular vein,) longitudinally, in the side of the neck, round which
a cord should be first tied ; and if the sportsman is not expert at handling a
lancet, he may purcliase a fleam at any of the shops where surgical instru-
ments arc sold, which, by means of springs, is so contrived, that the great-
est bungler need be under no apprehension. Those who sell this instru-
ment will describe the method of using it, which indeed is so obvious at first
view, as to render elucidation superfluous in this place.

If, after the vein is opened, the animal should not bleed freely, pressure a
little below the orifice will cause the blood to flow. When suflicicnt blood
has been taken, (eight ounces, if a strong Dog,) the bleeding will generally
subside ; should this not be the case, a little fur from a hat will slop it, or
the lips of tlie orifice may be drawn together with a needle and tliread.

The vein should be opened longitudinally, as I have already observed ; as,
if opened in a transverse direction, it may be diflicult to stop tlic bleeding,
owing to the circumstance of the incision opening every time the Dog holds
down or stretches out his head.

Caustic or hot iron will stop bleeding, even when an artery is divided ; or
it may be sewn up.

II js th- bloud fijm the heart ;

5 back the blood to the heart

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

I have known whitening administered for the distemper,
a table spoonful every morning, with a little opening phy-
sic, occasionally.

I have uniformly found a complete cure effected from
copious and repeated venesection in the early stage of the
distemper, accompanied with a little opening medicine,
syrup of buckthorn, for instance. In the kennel of Sir
Harry Mainwaring, the distemper generally swept away
a third of the young dogs at least. My system of treating
the distemper has since been adopted with the most benefi-
cial effect.

The following scientific description of the distemper and
its mode of treatment, cannot fail to be highly interesting:

<' A little black spaniel, six months old, very fat and
playful, gradually became listless and irritable; his eyes
suffused with water, his drooping ears, tenesmus, rough
coat, dyspuoea, and frequent cough, announced that the
disease called the distemper was at hand. In this state he
ran about for several days, when the difficulty of breathing
increased. His flanks beat violently, and he showed signs
of feeling great pain when his sides were pressed upon.
Soon after, he became slightly convulsed, and, by his con-
tinual and melancholy cry, both day and night, proved
that he was suffering from severe bodily pain. The con-
vulsions increased, and became incessant; his debility and
emaciatien were daily more apparent; and at the expiration
of three weeks he died.

•'It must be evident that the distemper is an inflamma-
tory disorder, more particularly affecting the mucous coats
of the bronchial tubes, and that the great congestions of
blood found in the heart and other vital organs must arise
from the obstruction it meets with in its passage through
the lungs. The particular time at which the disorganiza-
tion commences, must depend on the violence of the symp-
toms; and it does appear that the disease can be divided
into three natural stages: —

" 1st. The stage of fever and general excitement.

"2d. The deposition of coagulable lymph into the sub-
stance of the lungs; and

"3d. The effusion of matter into the bronchial tubes.

'<In drawing this view of the complaint, the liver is not
to be overlooked; and it would seem as if this organ was,
by a general irritability of the system, excited to a state of
unusual activity, and that thus, by the presence of an in-
creased and vitiated state of the bile, the stomach and
bowels were brought into a disordered condition, and their
villous coats inflamed.

"Upon the epidemic, contagious, or other causes predis-
posing to the distemper, it is not now my intention to offer
any remarks; but I shall proceed to the treatment which
appearances after death would indicate.

"It is unnecessary for me to add, that I have no expe-
rience of its efficacy, nor do I pretend to say that it will
be successful. Indeed the object of this paper is rather to
induce those who may have daily opportunities of becom-
ing acquainted with the complaint, by observing its causes,
symptoms, and progress, to form an idea of its nature; and
lastly, by the operation of remedies and frequent dissec-
tions, to arrive at some certain conclusions.

" Treatment. — At the commencement of the s_vmptoms,
or during the first stage of excitement, the Dog should be
bled freely, according to his age and strength. After which
an emetic of tartarized antimony or ipecacuanha should be
administered, and its operation promoted by mild bland
fluids; moderate doses of calomel, opium, and antimony,
should be given every three or four hours, and the excess
of bile removed by occasional doses of castor oil. The
Dog should be immersed for twenty minutes in a warm
bath, rubbed dry, and placed in clean warm straw; the
temperature of his apartment should be moderately warm,
taking great care to exclude the cold air, which must neces-
sarily irritate the lungs. Having continued this plan for
forty-eight hours, a mixture, consisting of nitre, fox-glove,
and ipecacuanha, should be given three or four times a day
until the urgent symptoms have subsided. Stimulants
should never be given but when the animal appears much
exhausted, and after the preceding measures have been
adopted: a little white wine might then be put into the
gruel, which should constitute his food for the primary
attack. When recovering, a little more than bread and
milk or nourishing broths will be necessary.

"It occasionally happens that the irritability of the
stomach is such that no medicines can be retained. Injec-
tions in these cases have been attended with beneficial
effects; and therefore a solution of starch with laudanum
should be thrown up several times in the course of twenty-
four hours: a blister also should be applied to the region of
the stomach.

"With regard to the treatment of the second and third
stages, when the first has been violent and neglected, very
little can be expected from medicine. Bleeding will be
highly injurious; and calomel, opium, and antimony, com-
bined with expectorants, would most probably offer the
greatest prospect of success. Strength should be carefully
supported by a nutritious diet, but all strong cordials ought
to be avoided.

"Although it is likely the fever accompanying the dis-
temper has a peculiar character, I am decidedly of opinion
that there is no specific remedy against this complaint: and
it is better to point out the indications of cure, than to enu-
merate a long list of medicines with their respective doses,

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

the selection of which must depend on the circumstances
of each individual case."

I am not aware of any other remedies worth notice,
though a great number might be added, if we could give
credit to the stories retailed by dealers in Dogs, as well as
gamekeepers and huntsmen. Much will be found to depend
on good nursing, and particularly to prevent the animal
from taking cold. From what I have witnessed of Blaine's
medicine, I should not recommend it.

It is very advisable to inoculate for the distemper. If
you can meet with a Dog already afSicted, take a little
mucous from his nose, and insert it up the nostrils of your
whelp, after having prepared him by a dose or two of syrup
of buckthorn; if the animal does not take the disease,
repeat the operation. By inoculating for the distemper,
the disease will be as much less severe, as the inoculated
small pox compared to what is called the natural mode of
taking it.

A Dog rarel)', if ever, has the distemper twice; nor
does it often attack him after he has attained the age of two
years; but frequently makes its appearance before the ani-
mal has reached his twelfth month. A notion became pre-
valent a few years back, that by inoculating a Dog with
the cow pock, the distemper would be prevented.

Johnson's Shooters' Jinnual.

Other recipes: —

" One ounce of flour of sulphur, and half an ounce of
antimony, mix them well together in paste of lard or butter
— give a lump of this about the size of a nutmeg, in the
early stage of the disease, every morning, to be increased
and lessened in proportion as the disease advances or de-
creases, in the animal.

The Dog should be housed while giving this medicine.

From one teaspoon full to one tablespoon full of antimo-
nial wine, according to the age of the subject. In less than
two hours, the medicine will begin to operate, and the dis-
ease partly or wholly removed immediately afterwards;
should it continue the day after, the same dose may be
repeated. — Am. Turf Reg. and Sport. Mag.

HYDROPHOBIA.

Not one Dog in twenty, reputed mad, is so in reality —
the cure, or rather the prevention, therefore, is certain in
many instances; and where it happens otherwise, and the
Dog was labouring under the hydrophobia, the result is
most melancholy; but then it is immediately and unblush-
ingly asserted, that the medicine had not operated in a
4E

proper manner — it had not remained upon the stomach, or
been taken in sufficient quantity; and thus the cheat con-
tinues, though on a much more circumscribed scale.

The fact is, that the only certain remedy hitherto disco-
vered for this dreadful disease, is the application of the
knife: — the blood becomes infected by the saliva from the
dog's teeth; and unless the bitten part can be immediately
cut out, death will most likely be the result, though the
precise time will be very uncertain; for so capricious is
this malady, that, after infection, it sometimes lies dormant,
as it were, in the system for months, sometimes for weeks;
while instances, I believe, are not wanting, where it has
appeared in all its terrible symptoms in the course of a few
days.

It is possible that a person might be bitten by a mad Dog,
and yet escape the hydrophobia: if, in the act of biting, the
animal's teeth pass through a thick woollen coat, or other
garment, so that his teeth in passing through are wiped
dry, he might inflict a wound without any of the infectious
saliva or fluid reaching it.

Respecting the bite of a mad Dog, Dr. Vandeburgh very
judiciously observes: — "Not a moment should be lost to
destroy the poison from the wound (even if only on suppo-
sition of the animal being mad;) many remedies are recom-
mended, but should not be trusted to; the only efiectual
method is to destroy the foundation of the poison, and
give the following course of medicine: — the part bitten
must be entirely cut out with a sharp instrument, and the
edges of the wound seared with a red-hot iron, to prevent
the smallest particle of poison remaining; afterwards,
warm poultices of oatmeal and water to be applied as hot
as the patient can possibly bear, to produce a quick and
copious discharge of matter or suppuration: The follow-
ing pills should be given: —

Calomel, one scruple,
Opium, half a scruple,

well mixed and divided into ten pills of equal size, one pill
to be taken every four hours; two drachms of strong oint-
ment of quicksilver to be well rubbed in on the thighs and
arms, morning and evening, which, with the medicine,
must be continued till the mouth becomes sore and spitting
is produced; when matter discharges from the sore, it
should also be dressed with strong ointment of quicksilver,
thickly spread on lint, and the poultice continued over it:
this treatment must be pursued for the space of one month,
then the wound healed with Turner\^ cerate spread on
lint, but the mouth kept sore and slight spitting prolonged
for at least two months, as hydrophobia has been known to
make its appearance five and six months after the bite of
the animal: sea-bathing is strongly advised; but I would
always recommend the foregoing treatment in preference, a

294

THE CABINET OF NATURAL fflSTORY

trial of which should not be omitted, if the poison was de-
stroyed at first by cutting; neither if the bite has happened
some time, nor even when the following symptoms have
taken place: the part bitten becoming tender and inflamed,
uneasiness and stupidity, frightful dreams, convulsions,
eyes red and water}', pain all over the body, difficulty in
swallowing, great thirst, and when liquid is only brought
before the patient he appears choked, accompanied with
trembling and shivering over the whole body; vomiting
bile frequently occurs, attended with great thirst and fever:
the last symptoms are raging and foaming at the mouth,
spitting at tlie bystanders, and strong convulsions, as if
drawn double; — no patient should be given over till the
last moment: the mercurial friction should be tried, and
the prescribed medicine given while he exists, as there is
hope of recovery by perseverance in the foregoing method.

"The patient should be kept on very low diet, and no
spirits or wine be used."

The following are the progressive symptoms of hydropho-
bia : when a Dog becomes melancholy, droops his head,
forbears eating, seems to forget his former habits, and as he
runs snatches at every thing: if he often looks upwards,
and that his tail at its setting on be rather erect, and the rest
of it hanging down; if his eyes be red, his breath strong,
his voice hoarse, and that he drivels and foams at the
mouth, you may be satisfied of the approaches of hydro-
phobia; and the only thing that should be done is instantly
to despatch him, however great a favourite he may be. If
at this period he should remain at liberty, he will certainly
leave his home: he goes as fast as he can; and the mischief
that may happen, owing thus to a mad Dog breaking away,
and running over an extent of country, is incalculable, as
he spares no living creature.

The following accurate description, from the pen of Mr.
Youatt, appeared in the Sporting Magazine, September,
1S2S:—

"The symptoms of ra:bies in the Dog are the following,
and nearly in the order in which they usually appear: — An
earnest licking, or scratching or rubbing, of some particu-
lar part; sulienness, and a disposition to hide from obser-
vation; considerable costiveness and occasional vomiting;
an eager search for indigestible substances — as bits of thread,
hair, straw, and dung; an occasional incli-nation to eat its
own dung, and a general propensity to lap its own urine.
The two last are perfectly characteristic circumstances.
The Dog becomes irritable; quarrels with his camparnions;
eagerly hunts and worries the cat; mumbles the hand or
foot of his master, or perhaps suddenly bites it, and then
crouches and asks pardon. As the disease proceeds, the
eyes become red; they have a peculiar bright and fierce
expression; some degree of strabismus or squinting very

early appears; not the protrusion of the membrana nicii-
tans, or haw, over the eye, which, in distemper, often
gives the appearance of squinting, but an actual distortion
of the eyes; the lid of one eye is evidently more contracted
than the other: twitchings occur round that eye; they gra-
dually spread over that cheek, and finally over the whole
face. In the latter stages of the disease, that eye frequently
assumes a dull green colour, and at length becomes a mass
of ulceration.

"After the second day, the Dog usually begins to lose a
perfect control over the voluntary muscles. He catches at
his food with an eager snap, as if uncertain whetiier he
could seize it; and he- often fails in the attempt. He
either bolts his meat almost unchewed, or in the attempt to
chew it suffers it to drop from his mouth. This want of
power over the muscles of the jaw, tongue, and throat, in-
creases, until the lower jaw becomes dependent, the tongue
protrudes from the mouth, and is of a dark and almost
black colour. The animal is able, however, by a sudden
convulsive effort, to close his jaws, and to inflict a severe
bite.

"The Dog is in incessant action: he scrapes his bed toge-
ther, disposes it under him in various forms, shifts his pos-
ture every instant — starts up, and eagerly gazes at some
real or imaginary object: a peculiar kind of delirium comes
on: he traces the fancied path of some imaginary object
floating around him: he fixes his gaze intently on some
spot in the wall or partition, and suddenly plunges and
snaps at it; his eyes then close, and his head droops; but
the next moment he starts again to renewed activity: he is
in an instant recalled from this delirium by the voice of his
master, and listens attentively to his commands; but as soon
as his master ceases to address him, he relapses into his
former mental wandering.

" His thirst is excessive, (there is no hydrophobia in the
Dog) and the power over the muscles concerned in degluti-
tion being impaired, he plunges his face into the water up
to the very eyes, and assiduously, but ineffectually, attempts
to lap. *

"His desire to do mischief depends much on his previous
disposition and habits. I have known it not to proceed
beyond an occasional snap, and then only when purposely
irritated; but with the fighting Dog the scene is often ter-
rific. He springs to the end of his chain — he darts with
ferocity at some object he conceives to be within his reach

* In those instances of hydrophobia which have fallen under my notice,
I have never observed the dog " plunge his face into the water up to the very
eyes, and assiduously, but ineflectually, attempt to lap." On the contrary,
the animal has always been capable of lapping, and has testified no symp-
toms of horror or disgust at the sight of fluids : however, in the disease called
Dumb Madness, I have noticed symptoms similar to the above.

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

295

— he diligently tears lo pieces every thing about him; the
carpet or rug is shaken with savage violence; the door or
petition is gnawed asunder; and so eager is he in this work
of demolition, and so regardless of bodily pain, that he not
unfrequently breaks one or all of his tushes. If he effects
his escape, he wanders about, sometimes merely attacking
those dogs which fall in his way; and at other times he dili-
gently and perseveringly hunts out his prey: he overcomes
every obstacle to eflfect his purpose; and, unless he has been
detected in his march of death, he returns in about four-and-
twenty hours, completely exhausted, to the habitation of his
master.

"He frequently utters a short and peculiar howl, which,
if once heard, can rarely be forgotten; or if he barks, it is a
short, hoarse, inward sound, altogether dissimilar from his
usual tone.

"In the latter stages of the disease a viscid saliva flows
from his mouth, with which the surface of the water that
may be placed before him is covered in a few minutes: and
his breathing is attended with a harsh grating sound, as if
impeded by the accumulation of phlegm in the respiratory
passages.

"The loss of power over the voluntary muscles extends
after the third day throughout his whole frame, and is par-
ticularly evident in the loins; he staggers in his gait; there
is an uncertainty in all his motions; and he frequently falls,
not only when he attempts to walk, but when he stands
balancing himself as well as he can. On the fourth or fifth
day of the disease he dies, sometimes in convulsions, but
more frequently without a struggle.

"After death there will invariably be found more or less
inflammation of the mucous coat of the stomach; sometimes
confined to the rugae, at other times in patches ; generally
with spots of extravasated blood, and occasionally intense,
and occupying the whole of that viscus. The stomach will
likewise contain some portion of indigestible matter, (hair,
straw, dung,) and occasionally it will be completely filled
and distended by an incongruous mass. The lungs will
usually present appearances of inflammation, more intense
in one, and generally the left lung, than in the other. Some
particular points and patches will be of a deep colour, while
the neighbouring portions are unaflected. The sublinqual
and parotid glands will be invariably enlarged: and there
will also be a certain portion of inflammation, sometimes in-
tense, and at other times assuming only a faint blush, on
the edge of the epiglottis, or on the rima glottidis, or in the
angle of the larynx at the back of it."

When the human species become unhappily the subjects
of this calamity, though in particular instances some varia-
tion may be observed, yet the fii'st symptoms are generally
the same; these are torpid disquietude in the wound, (or

seat of injury,) attended with slight intervening itchings,
ultimately amounting to pain, and much resembling rheu-
matic afiection. It continues to extend itself to the sur-
rounding parts; and, at length, from the extremities it
expands its poisonous power to the viscera; the cicatrice,
if there has been a wound, begins to swell, inflammation
hourly increases, till, at length, a serous bloody ichor is
discharged, and this alone may be considered the primary
and invariable prognostic of certain hydrophobia. These
leading symptoms soon become progressively general, bear-
ing with them every appearance of confirmed rheumatism;
they are fluctuating, quick, acute, and of the spasmodic,
convulsive kind; they suddenly attack the patient, severely
affecting the head, neck, and principal joints; a dull, drowsy
pain often seizes the head and neck, breast, abdomen, and
even vibrates along the back bone. The patient is gloomy
and inclined to solitude, murmurs much, seems lost in re-
flection, is forgetful, inattentive, and prone to sleep; at
times agitating starts denote the mind to be disordered; by
turns he is attentively watchful; his slumbers become dis-
turbed, and suddenly awaking from those, convulsive ap-
pearances soon follow.

A deafness is sometimes complained of, the eyes are
watery; the aspect sorrowful; the countenance pale, and
the face contracted: sweat breaks out about the temples;
an unusual flow of saliva, slimy and viscid, at length comes
on with a dryness of the fauces, a foulness of the tongue,
and a disagreeable smell (or rather fetid efliuvia,) from the
breath. As the symptoms already recited increase, the
second stage advances: a fever commences, which at first is
mild, but makes with gigantic strides the most rapid ad-
vances to extremity; it is accompanied with hourly increas-
ing horrors, and all the alarming concomitants of mental
derangement. Wakefulness becomes perpetual ; violent
periodical agitations ensue; the mind is evidently more and
more disturbed; a delirium follows, at which critital mo-
ment an invincible aversion X.o fluid, glass, or any polished
or shining body is plainly perceived. A constriction of the
gullet takes place, and an incredible difficulty of swallow-
ing ensues; liquids are ofiered, and are attempted to be
taken, but the disgust and loathing become so predominant,
that they are most violently declined; and this symptoma-
tic dread and aversion so wonderfully increases, that, upon
the very appearance of any watery fluid, the greatest hor-
ror comes on, and the most shocking muscular distortions
ensue; if the liquor is attempted to be forcibly pressed upon
them, the experiment is rejected by an instantaneous suc-
cession of the most horrid gesticulations, and convulsive
distortions, in which every ray of reason seems to be ab-
sorbed. Upon a temporary cessation of so distressing a
paroxysm, the poor unhappy patient now murmurs, mourns.

296

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

and groans most miserably; loses, by degrees, all know-
ledge of his dearest friends and most familiar acquaintance:
and their presenting themselves before him, is the very
critical moment when all of this description give proof of
their desire to bite, which, in the attempt, bears no ill affi-
nity to the similar snappings of a village cur.

Awful to relate, reason returns at intervals, and he feel-
ingly laments his own calamity, and deplores his own inca-
pacity. A consciousness of approaching dissolution is per-
ceptible even to himself, and he seems truly resigned to
the singularity of his fate. Severe pain and consequent
heat producing thirst, a desire to drink is displayed, but
nature shrinks from her office; in vain the patient raises his
hand to touch the vessel, it almost magically produces in-
stant tremor — the hand recedes, and he sinks into the most
afflicting despondency. Conscious, likewise, of his con-
stantly increasing inclination to bite, he, in his rational
moments, makes signals to warn his friends of the danger,
and keep themselves at a distance. Towards the conclu-
sion of this dreadful and most melancholy scene, the fever
and parching thirst increase, the tongue becomes swelled
and protruded, foam issues from the mouth, strength fails,
cold sweats come on, the stricture on the breast increases,
as well as the other predominant symptoms, until, in a long
succession of convulsive struggles, all-powerful death closes
the scene.

The cause of the hydrophobia is utterly unknown; and its
effects hitherto appear to have baffled every remedy which
has been tried for its removal. Copious and repeated vene-
section was, a few years ago, announced to the world as a
cure for the hydrophobia, and instances were given in order
to confirm it: it is true, they came in a questionable shape
on account of the distance they had to travel, being chiefly
from the East Indies: however, the method just mentioned,
has been tried in this country and found unavailing.

The alisma plant ago was introduced as a remedy, but,
on repeated trial, has proved ineffectual.

Another remedy has been introduced. This new remedy
comes from a distance; but let us not reject it merely on that
score. The account has appeared in several medical works,
and was first published, it seems, by Dr. Midler, of Vienna,
a scientific physician, now resident at Paris. The German
physician says, he received the particulars from M. Maro-
chetti, a Russian surgeon, who informed him, that, during
his residence in the Ukraine, in the year 1813, he was call-
ed on to attend fifteen persons who had been bit by a mad
dog, when some old men requested him to treat the unfor-
tunate people according to the directions of a neighbouring
peasant, who had acquired a great reputation for curing the
hydrophobia. M. Warochetti allowed the peasant to attend
fourteen, reserving one to himself, a female of sixteen, who

was cauterized and treated in the usual way, and expired
eight days after the attack. The peasant gave to the
fourteen persons placed under his care a strong decoction of
the tops of the flowers of the yellow broom, (a pound and a
half a day.) He examined twice a day the under part of
the tongue, where he had generally discovered little pim-
ples, containing, as believed, the hydrophobic poison: these
pimples really followed, and were observed by Marochetti
himself. As they formed, the peasant opened them, and
cauterized the parts with a red hot needle; after which, the
patients gargled with the decoction mentioned above. The
result of this treatment was, that the fourteen patients were
cured, having onl}'^ drank the decoction for six weeks.
Marochetti then states, that, five years afterwards, he him-
self had an opportunity of giving this treatment another
trial. Twenty-six persons who had been bitten by a mad
dog, were put under his care, viz: nine men, eleven women,
and six children: he ordered the decoction of the tops of the
flowers of yellow broom to be given them as soon as possi-
ble; and upon an attentive examination of their tongues, he
discovered pimples on five men, three children, and all the
women. Those who were most wounded were afflicted on
the third day: the others on the fifth, seventh, or ninth.
One of the women who had been slightly bitten in the leg
had no appearance till the twenty-first day. The seven who
were free from pimples took the decoction of broom for six
weeks, with success. M. Marochetti thinks that the hydro-
phobic poison, after having remained in the wound, fixes
itself under the tongue, in the orifices of the ducts of the
submaxillary gland, which are situated on the sides of the
frsenum. The inflammation of which the little pimples are
the result, has a peculiar appearance. The time in which
these pimples appear, is generally between the third and
ninth day after the bite. If they are not opened before
twenty-four hours after their appearance, the venom is ab-
sorbed, and the patient is lost.

Dumb Madness. — Upon the disease, erroneously deno-
minated Dumb Madness, I will relate what fell under my
own observation, and from which a tolerable idea of the
disorder may be formed: — "In the month of May, 1823,
a pointer whelp was presented to me by a friend, which I
knew to be as well bred as any in the kingdom, and on
that account, I, of course, prized him more highly. The
Dog was whelped on the 16th of April, of the same year;
and as soon as I received him, a kennel was appropriated
for his use in the open air, well littered with wheat straw,
and kept clean. He had full liberty, and a clear stream of
water close at hand, to quench his thirst whenever he
thought proper. The Dog, as might be expected, was re-
markably healthy; and, at seven months old, had become
an amazingly fine animal: at this period, he experienced a

AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS.

£97

slight attack of the distemper, which immediately gave
way to bleeding and a dose of tartar emetic; and in three
or four days he was restored to perfect health. His colour
was a perfect jet black; he was larger than common, and
altogether, the finest young pointer I ever saw. On the
8th of January, (of the following year,) I observed the
Dog keep his mouth almost continually open, the inside of
which appeared darker coloured than usual, and somewhat
swelled. I immediatelj' bled him copiously, which, how-
ever, produced no visible alteration; on the contrary, the
next day all the symptoms had evidently increased, and I
observed that he was unable to swallow, though he made
many attempts both to eat and drink, particularly the
latter: but the water or the milk, which, by putting his
nose into the vessel, he contrived to get into his mouth,
uniformly run out again, and he appeared utterly unable to
pass it down his throat: he licked his fore-legs very much,
and seemed to have a trifling discharge of mucus, or saliva:
but all this time the Dog appeared not only perfectly sensi-
ble, but even in good spirits, and evidently experienced
but little pain. A sporting acquaintance, who saw him, said
the disease was what was distinguished b}- the appellation
oidumb madness, which seems to me altogether a ridiculous
term; and supposing this to have been the disorder with
which my Dog was affected, I can testify that the term is
very improperly applied, as the animal in question regularly
barked on the approach of a stranger, though in a diiferent
tone, and with more difficulty than usual. However, I
immediately searched authorities for dumb madness, with
a view to ascertain the proper mode of treatment. In an
old writer, (the author of the "Gentleman's Recreation,")
I found it thus described: — "The Dog that is troubled
vrith dumb madness will not feed, but holds his mouth
wide open continually, putting his feet to his mouth fre-
quently, as if he had a bone in his throat." Now, though
my Dog kept his jaws somewhat distended, his mouth was
not wide open, but only partiall)- so, and that he was able to
shut it I can safely attest, as I saw him many times close
his jaws, though he never kept them more than a second
or two in that position; further, the animal frequently
licked his fore-legs, but I never saw him raise his feet, or
otherwise use indications similar to those adopted by a Dog
when he seems to have a bone in his throat; and therefore
the cases did not appear to agree.

I had next recourse to the "Sportsman's Dictionary, or
Gentleman's Companion:" the third edition of which was
published in 1783, which contained the following observa-
tions:— "Dumb madness lies in the blood, and causes the
Dog not to feed, but to hold his mouth always wide open,
frequently putting his feet to his mouth, as if he had a bone
in his throat."

4 F

To be brief — I perused every thing within my reach, on
the subject of Dogs and their diseases, but without gaining
the least information; and, as the disorder, at least in the
form in which it presented itself, was new to me, I began
to entertain fears for the life of m}^ Dog, and the sequel will
prove they were but too well founded. I have already
remarked, that I first perceived the disease on the Sth of
Januarj'', and the Dog continued much in the same way for
four successive days, during which, all his faculties appear-
ed very little, if at all, impaired. He would follow me
into the field, and even hunt, frequently attempting to
drink, and, in order to accomplish that desirable object,
would thrust his nose into the water, instead of attempting
to lap; but he never succeeded in forcing any of the fluid
down his throat: his sense of smell was as perfect as ever;
and, indeed, though he evidently became very lean, he
might be said to be in good spirits till the morning of the
13th, when I found him very languid, his eye had lost its
lustre, and death was evidently fast approaching. He was
perfectly sensible, and whenever I approached and spoke
to him, he raised his heavy eyes, and by these, as well as
by the movement of his tail, appeared grateful for my atten-
tion. Towards the evening he made a last effort to swallow
food, but was not able. On the following morning he wds
stretched on his side, and had every appearance of death,
only that a breathing, at very long intervals, proved that
the vital spark was not absolutely extinct. Some few hours
afterwards he was perfectly lifeless; and I was resolved, if
possible, to ascertain the cause of his death. For this pur-
purpose, I called in the assistance of a skilful veterinary sur-
geon, and the animal was dissected in my presence. On
opening the body, it was abundantly evident that the Dog
had been starved to death; or, in other words, had died for
want of food. The lungs, the liver, and, indeed, all those
parts of the animal organization, were totally unaffected,
and manifested not the slightest symptom of disease; the
same remark will equally apply to all parts of the throat,
and also to the brain; and the only affection that could be
discovered, was in the salivary glands, which were tri-
flingly swelled. On the whole, I feel a perfect conviction,
that the disorder of the Dog was a glandular affection, which,
by rendering him incapable of swallowing sustenance,
caused his death.

Of the cure, should a similar case come under my obser-
vation, I feel confident; and I have been thus minute for
the information of .sportsmen in general, particular! 3' as I
have been informed, that the disorder which I have at-
tempted to describe, or something very much resembling
it, has carried off, within the last few years, great num-
bers of valuable dogs. Should a similar case occur with
any of my Dogs, I should force food, (nourishing broth.

THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY

for instance,) down the throat, with an instrument adapted
for the purpose; and if I found it impossible to get it
down, I would inject it into the bowels, when a suffi-
cient quantity would be taken up by the absorbents, to
sustain life till the disease of the glands abated. In the
first place, I should feel a disposition to bleed the afflicted
animal, as this would prevent any super-abundant pressure
of blood upon the parts affected, which I might perhaps rub
well with mercurial ointment.

It is a lamentable fact, that so little attention has been
paid to the diseases of this invaluable animal, though no
creature which has yet been taken under human protection
affords so good an opportunity for observation, or is so
much entitled to the assistance and kind offices of its mas-
ter. The D02; has become a domestic of the most familiar
description, whose greatest delight is in administering to
the pleasures of the sportsman, or those by whom his ser-
vices are called into action; his civilization may be said to
proceed in the precise ratio with that of human nature, and
he uniformly takes his tone from the circumstance or the
situation of his master. As he has closely associated him-
self with man, therefore, he has brought upon himself a

train of diseases, resulting from his artificial mode of life;
and from which, in a state of nature, there is little doubt,
but he is altogether exempt. In fact, living under the same
roof, and in the same manner, as his master, he seems to
be afflicted something in the same way: and, upon close
examination, it will be found, that many of his disorders
bear a strong resemblance to those in man, and would, I
have little doubt, give way to a somewhat similar treatment.
Thus circumstanced, it seems unaccountable that the medi-
cal treatment of this faithful creature should have been so
neglected. Generally speaking, whenever a Dog is attack-
ed with any disease, little trouble is taken in his recovery;
food is offered him, and if he is able to eat it and recovers,
it is all right; but it very frequently happens, that the mo-
ment he exhibits symptoms of indisposition, he is suspected
of hydrophobia, and, without any attempts to alleviate his
pains, he is placed in a situation of security, and either suf-
fered to pine away, or is prematurely despatched. This
may not apply altogether to sportsmen, perhaps; though
many of these, I have not the least doubt, pay but little
attention to the matter. — Johnson's Shooter's Comjianion.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

INDEX TO VOLUME I.

A.

Page 7

- 23
24

- 40
46

- 66
S3

- 91
149
111

lis

190

101,

Ant Lion, . . . -

Archery, - - - -

A Tale, by Hogg,
A Hunting Excursion,
Advice to Young Sportsmen,
An extraordinary Wolf Hunt,
Ants and Antbears of South America,
A Bear Hunt, ...

An inquiry respecting the true nature of instinct
Angling, . . - -

An excursion to the Chesapeake,
An encounter with Wolves,
An explanation of technical terms used by Ornitholo-
gists, descriptive of particular parts, - 203
An attempt at domesticating the Quail or Partridge,

232, 2S5
An interesting mode of finding Wild Bees,
A peculiarity not hitherto described in the Ankle or

Hock joint of the Horse,
An Adventure, - - - -

A Shooting Party, - - - -

Anecdotes of a Pheasant and domestic Fowl, -

of Wolves, . - -

of a Grey Fox,

of a Wild Goose, - - -

of two Deer, . - -

of a Pheasant, . . -

of a Crow, . - -

of 3-oung Fox Cubs,

of a Fox, - . -

of the Shepherd's Dog,

of the Porpoise,

234

2S1

2S4

24

33

47

4S

ib.

96

140

192

22S

265

273

B.

Basin of the Mississippi,

Buffaloe Hunt, -

Battle between a Snake and an Eel,

Black Grouse, - - -

Bass Fishing in the West,

Biographical sketch of Charles Willson Peale,

C.

Chesapeake Duck shooting,
Comforts of a Shooter,

13

168
190
226
260

Canine Establishments, - - Pag

Communication from Susquehanna county,
Count de Launay's description of a Fox Hunt,
Carbonated Springs, . . -

Characteristic's of a true Sportsman,

Defence of the Percussion,

Dwarfs, - - -

Dick Lingers attempt at a Steeple Chase,

December,

Diseases of Dogs,

Distemper,

Hyprophobia, -

Encounter with a Panther,

Extract from a letter from the country.

Eruption of Jurillo in 1759,

Final answer to L T. S. -

Fountain Trees,

Fresh and Salt water Lakes of Mexico,

Game in Olden Times,
Grouse Shootins,

H.

History of the Common Deer, -

Ruffed Grouse or Pheasant,

Red Fox,

Quail or Partridge,

Newfoundland Dog,

Rough billed Pelican,

Prairie Wolves,

Meadow Lark,

Snow Bird,

Goosander,

Golden Eyed Duck,

Grisly Bear,

Griffin Vulture,

Chinchilli,

Robin,

141
145
164
224
236

72
107
262
276
291

ib.
293

137
141

225

163
176
ISO

192
259

3

13

25

37

49

61

73

85

86

109

110

121

125

127

133

INDEX.

History of the Blue Bird,

.

- Page 135

Woodcock,

-

- 158

Ground Squirrel,

-

169

Wild Swan,

-

- 181

American Argali,

-

193

Rail,

-

- 206

American Varying

Hare,

217

Red Tailed Hawk,

-

- 229

American Sparrow

Hawk,

231

Canada Porcupine,

-

- 241

Quadrupeds,

Page 216

R.

Summer Duck or Wood Duck, - 252

Great Tailed Squirrel, - - 265

Raven, - - - 278

Hunting Spiders, - - - - 15

Hunting recollections, - - - 19

Hunting in India, - - - - 94

Habits of the Ruffed Grouse or Pheasant, - 260

How Spiders effect their serial excursions, - 173

I.

Influence of music on Mice, . . 36
Inscription on the monument of a Newfoundland Dog, 55

Indian Hunters, - - - - 159

L.

Lines to a Wild Deer, - - - 285

M.

Migration of Birds, - - - 155

Mysterious Sounds, - - - 120

N.

National Museum at Paris, - - - 131
Notes of a Naturalist, by Jacob Green, M. D.

143, 197, 251

Newly invented Rifle, - - - 261

0.
Observations on the Natural History of the Cameleon, 58

(Estrus Hominis, - - - - 78

On the choice of Guns, - - - 17, 90

ffistrus Equi, or the Horse gad fly, - - 179
On the vicious habits and propensities of Horses, 214, 237

On the growth of Trees, - - - 220

On the Luxury of the Romans, - - 268

On bad practices among Sportsmen, - - 2S7

P.

Petrified Forest of Missouri, - - - 71

Pigeon shooting by the New York Club, - 165

Prospect of Game, - - - - 167

Pictured Rocks of Lake Superior, - - 170

Precipitation of Salt in the Mediterranean sea, - 178

Pigeon Match, - - - 192

Proceedings of the Cincinnati Angling Club, - 254

Preservation of the Quail or Partridge, - 264

Preservation of Trees from Hares, - - 277

Retaliation, - - - - 48

Reply to Sportsmen, - - - 89

Rejoinder to I. T. S. - - - 116

Reply to Sportsman's rejoinder, - - 141

Recipes for Distemper, . . - 291

Hydrophobia, - - 293
S.

Skating, - - - - - 64

Stricture on I. T. S. - - - 65

Snipe Shooting, - - - - 87

Sporting calculation, - - - 96

Shooting match, - - . - 167

Sagacity of a Greyhound and Pointer, - 223

Shooting parties, - - . - 253

Sagacity of Bees, - - - 2S8

Sporting with Humanity, - - - 291

T.
The usefulness of Sporting, - - 16
The choice of Guns adapted for common field amuse-
ments, ... 17, 90
The Sloth, .... 56
The Black Swan, - - - - 60
The Ostrich, .... 75
The Voices of Birds, - - - 81
Treatise on Woodcock Shooting, - - 97
The Sea, - - - - - 99
Treatise on Breaking Dogs, - - 160, 186
The Death Song of the Swan, - - - 185
The Golden Eagle, - - - 199
The story of Hannah Lamond, - - 2C1
Torpidity of the Ground Squirrel, - - 228
The captive Eagle, - - , - 239
The Cougar, - - • - 243
The Elephant, - - - - 245
The Mule, - - - - 248
The match for SlO,000, - - - 264
The Bread Fruit, - - - - 273
To blow Eggs for preservation in Cabinets, - 280

U.

United Bowmen of Philadelphia, - 211,286

V.

Vernal Nature, an Ode, by C. W. Thomson, - 120

W.

Wish-ton-wish, - - - - 12

Winter Wolf skalls, or the manner of destroying

. Wolves in Sweden, - - - 31

White Fish of the Lakes, - - 141

Whirlwinds and Waterspouts, . - - 204

CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY,

Is designed to embrace the higher and more interesting branches of Zoology, viz: Ornithology,
and Mammalogy, together with an account of the sports and pastimes of North America.

This work will be issued monthly, in a quarto form, and printed with a new type, on fine royal paper.
Each number will contain twenty-four pages closely printed matter, and embellished with two beautiful
coloured plates, of Birds and Quadrupeds, drawn from nature, and executed in the best style, with a perfect
history of each object so represented. It will also contain many interesting Anecdotes, relating to Natural
History, and all other subjects which may give interest, comportable with the spirit of the work, as connect-
ed with fishing, hunting, and shooting parties, the various clubs established for gymnastic exercises, aquatic
sports, &c. &c.

TERMS— Eight Dollars per annum, payable in advance.

J. & T DOUGHTY,
No. 80, Walnut street, Philadelphia.
Persons procuring eight subscribers, and remitting the money to us, shall receive nine copies of
the work.

Im iiresentjng [he first No. of '■ I'-'if Cahinft of Nata-
T:il Hi:>lory aud ^mcri-ap Bvra/ A'porfi." to xh\i ])'j\^-
Jic, the Editors n'ouid rMpectfpUy introduce a brief outline
>!' !'. '. uitiirc plan respectiag th' '•■■<,■■ r-.',^,, n? t',',- ,,^,-1

' i vhc'.r object to prirsuf ^

ofler, uotilit embniccs eTT'ry iuterr^liu^ oiijw;! oi N;uu)-,ii
History scattered over our ividcly extended conti aciiL The
reprcserllations given, shall !>e as perfect as possible, and
always frohi natui-c, ^vhenPN..r it is in our pywer to obutia a
-I'liit.ct to sketch from. Thfj liistory of t!ie Mammalia \v;]I
1)6 prepared by a g;eDtK'.ni.i n of this City po.sses^ng eniinenv
t.iicr.ts^ 3.nd {;;rf»^ lilorary aoquire/nei.t.-., :itu' wiui itiv •■!.<-
toiy will be embodied man}' iiiterestl^..;
not gcnci :ily fivi;l.sl .) b;- naturalists.

inU • und description of Li

be cbi-'iv ^ov'MuHi iy that beautiful 'iSTitcr .A;,^j:;.;>! •,
Wnison, (tdopting his language generally ; nialdng bcwcver

some acdilions and .■Jteratiocs to suit the, [>-•■ '

In making tiiis acknovvl(?dginent, and by gi'
nernl credit in the coicmencemcut, we hop-
aufllcJei* npolo^y for not using Uie usual qiu'
;.o '' ■■--''■-■ '■ " r.s from bis Oriiiihology.

.. ■.: liiat the greate.-?! j/' '
■ainf'l iii i- -.Y A-k bhall h-^ original, and ;>;-rv.
been ;ivn!e to prorure intorestinj^ coniniurM
a di^~•♦a^.■.s and our immedii>*e. nejgnbourhijc :

J I (ur selections, we shall endeavour to :/ .
pleasing .md instructive subjr.ts. lonsultini^ •'ueh aatUors as
are rare and valua'de.

The iioliimns of tl'.i' work will be tlirou-n open to •
i;Uerestin^ and ijsefnl matter suitable tV-r it: and whilst u
■vvil! give us pleasure to receive su'"!> from al! who feel
iifnr.M. ,! i.i t)-,,;. prospcrily of a work, new in its design
'■st'fiilnes.s and piensnr.:, we will neverlho-
'-nirnunicatious which are liitiier offensive
ill U«:ii iiu-jud^e, or descriptive of those sports and pastimes
which ai-e denrioralizing in their tonde:)C3'. It is onr desire
to fariri^h thai which will instruct raid please, and avoid
every tiling tending to (ylvi*. offmce, '.nJ endeavour, HB
far as our. inriir' -: :■ ■ ■ - '' • ' - . ■-, ■:\ -■''•rr
cxjiense nor U--^

of iSo..uiu!i-: '..:.:.

tore are hr<u>-^ ;:■. -.r

yu:.-'.'] ■ .r;cr hno^v'cMge bein;;; ai trie ;ii;s; p\ri)L!^d cl ? ••■-

u.r, we will alwiys gi\-e a hearty wel^-ome to coianinn :j

iJc„\> ex)i,.K_.,

,..cu....y a.

i-.it Insipid in or

ii,'cnnenoc

I'lM stiJl bt ■

ijcd any thi;

gyninas'tlc
invited to

lorward to i\>

,,;)'■■■■ . cr, in I1.S eiyibeilLshiric:: - , r^-.y;/?, we would su|,'gest the i.-j-

'< aspecini.^u cl t]io,-e whieb will be issued in tutur>;; a'jtl n- x-: •• v 0* \'.ii::ng v. .'is iegdjie a inanner a.« po.''siWe, as the

tiiedravvingswillbemadeby Ml. 7*. Z>(??<^^'A(ry, and colonre.d difficulty of iracina; tbo'". if writU^n ufuiiteliigibly (espe-

uiuior his t-uperintendenct, it shall be O'lr object tofr't- oially wV,ere m;,r.y scif !>ti((c nu;^ es oiciir) frcqven'.ly ren-

duce ;is pl'-asing pictun^s and characteristic scencpy as c.!i!) ders it ncccsAiry (n i;iy them aside; ii. consequence of

bird or •!!j..ar!ii.'ed win .'.d.'nilor. whi-.-h, it l.,ii;p'.r,.-< r\.J -.■.u.b ■i!--e"!l or p!(a»ir.g matter is

U-T"

[iti.ir.s I) hf. .iddn^icd to the editors

Cabinet of Natural History: 1930 Vol. I

Received; The book was bound ini brown
cloth with dark beige paper sides, vellum
tips, and plain endpapers. The title was
in gold on a brown leather label. The
case was tattered and the front and back
boards were loose. Many pages were foxed
and browned.

Treatment: The text was washed in runnxng
water and buffered in a solution of mag-
nesium bicarbonate. Due to the original
adhesive, there was severe abrasion of the
paper at the folds. The folds were cut off
and the text re guarded into quarto signa-
tures. Guards and paper repairs were attached
with rice starch paste to the Japanese papers.
The te>rt was resewn viith a continuous guard.
Adhesive used at the spine was KLex 720.
The plates were not treated because they were
hand colored, and would proboably loose
color in water. Due to a ragged tab at pages
132-33, it appears that a plate was removed
from the text.