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S < X^TX S ' I " " I W ^ ^ ^ > XQiiiis^X 2 X > _ _ ]_ LI B RAR I ES^SMITHS0NIAN_INSTITUTI0N(/)N0linillSNI_NVIN0SHllWSC/,S3 I ava 3 Ilf LI B RAR I ES^SMITHSONIAN^ INST = .,Kf ^ -1 /^^Sv - 1 I “ . , ,» &2a ^0 * if dm' ,/ '/ 4 1 | V * / C. & ■ SCiiU££ BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF CISAMIiES WILIiSOX FEALE. The records of Natural Histoiy 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 polite manners; greatly respected as a teacher at Chestertown, where he occasionally officiated 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 British 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 revolutionary 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 ie Handmaid to the1 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 Mr. 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 1785, 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, ingenuity, 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 Museum. 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 * In the spring of 1801, receiving information from a scientific correspon- dent in the State of New York, that in the autumn of 1799 many bones of the Mammoth had been found in digging a marle-pit in the vicinity of New- 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 future success. The bones that had been found were then in the possession of the farmer who discovered them, heaped on the floor of his garret or granary, where they were occasionally visited by the curious. These my father was fortunate to make a pur- chase oft 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 scapulae ; both humeri, with the 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 in want of some of the 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, solid enough for cattle to walk over, containing peat, or turf, and shell-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 thrown 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 Masten, 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 general 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 unconsciously 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 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 great profusion, and they 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, with all the milk-pails, buckets, and bowls, they could collect in the neighbourhood. All their ingenuity was exerted to conquer difficulties that every hour increased upon their hands ; they even made and sunk a large coffer-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 in 1801. It was a cnrious circumstance attending the purchase of these bones, that tire sum which was paid for them Was little more than one-third of what had been offered to the farmer for them by another, 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 others in America, speaking the language of his fathers 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 him from labour, but because profit, and the prospect of profit, cheered him in it, until the end was forgotten in the 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 who dug with him, and those whose casual attention was arrested, or who were drawn by report to the spot, for him the 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 the objects which excited the 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 this 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 that 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, IV 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 diffi- who had assisted the farmer in this discovery, envious of his good fortune, sued him for a share in the profit ; but they gained nothing more than a divi- dend of the costs ; it appearing that they had been satisfied with the gratifi- cation of their curiosity, and the quality and quantity of the 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 the 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, the 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 the water into a natural basin, about sixty feet distant, the upper edge of which was about ten feet above the level of the water. An ingenious millwright constructed the machinery, and, after a week of close labour, completed a large scaffolding and a wheel twenty feet diameter, wide enough for three or four men to walk a-breast in : a rope round this turned a small spindle, which worked a chain of buckets regulated 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 powerfully, that in the second day the water was lowered so much as to enable them to dig ; and in a few hours they were rewarded with several small bones. The road which passed through this 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 exertions were spared, and the most unremitting were required to insure success ; bank afte 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 the 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 was 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 these bones together, 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 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 making a ditch, by which all the water was carried off, 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 afforded 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 the most laborious tasks, although he 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 uncertain limits ; therefore, after working abont two weeks, and finding nothing belonging to the head but two rotten tusks, (part of one of them is with the skeleton here) three or four small grinders, a few verte- brae 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 distinct from those found at Masten’s, as it would not be proper to incorporate into 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 them 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 another 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 the 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 research. 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. Crossing 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 us to the morass. It was impossible to resist the 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; 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 difficulties 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-handles : after some practice we were able to distin- guish by feeling, whatever substances we touched harder than the soil ; and by this means, in a very unexpected direction, though not more than twenty feet from the 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 the 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 — 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 the 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 with us. Landscape and miniature painters, and with them the away as only to show the form around the teeth, and thence extending to the 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 themselves. For instance, in order to complete the first skeleton, which was found at Masten’s, the un- 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 inthis 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 vertebrae and ribs in both 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. Tn 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 Ceracchi (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, chiefly lent by private gentlemen, and was well attended by the public. It was not until 1810 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 bis 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 ho^d his Museum. This brought on a relapse and his speedy and lamented death, in 1827; leaving his Museum as a joint stock to his children; Raphael, Angelica Kaufman, Rembrandt, Ru- bens, Sophonisba Camera, Linnaeus, 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- plish 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 h'e 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 Mr. Peale and his countryman Mr. WeSst, 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. lively genius, was able to acquire an extraordinary excel- lence in many arts, between which his attention was too much divided. For had he confined his operations to one pursuit he probably would have attained the highest excel- lence in the Fine Arts.” However praiseworthy may have been his industry; remarkable or amusing his ingenuity; and productive his perseverance to the success of his Museum — he possessed a higher claim to the remembrance and esteem of his coun- 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), II. Ruffed Grouse or Pheasant, - III. Red Fox, - IY. Quails or Partridges, - Y. Newfoundland Dog, - YI. Rough Billed Pelican, - VII. Prairie Wolves, - YJII. Meadow Lark and Snow Bird, - IX. Illustration of Woodcock Shooting, - X. Goosander and Golden Eyed Duck, - XI. Grisly Bears, - XII. Robin and Blue Bird, XIII. Trout of the Brook and Lake, - XIY. Woodcock, ------ XY. Ground Squirrel, - XYI. Wild Swan, XVII. American Argali, - XVIII. Rail, - XSX. American Varying Hare, - - - - - XX. The Red Tailed Hawk and American Sparrow Hawk, XXI. Canada Porcupine, - XXII. Summer Duck or Wood Duck, - XXIII. Great Tailed Squirrel, - XXIY. Raven, ------- 3 13 25 37 49 6 1 73 85 97 109 121 133 145 158 169 181 193 206 217 229 241 252 265 279 NATURAL HISTORY. No branch of human learning 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 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 the 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 HISTORY. sessed of, in elucidation of the subjects; our great aim being to present such a history of our different native ani- mals, as may amuse whilst it instructs, and tend to invite our readers to closer and more minute investigations. With these views we have undertaken the present work ; how far the execution may merit the approbation of the public, we leave the candid and judicious to decide. In the formation of plans, the general and the statesman, the author and the artist, are apt to rely too much on their own powers and the fortuitous concurrence of favourable circumstances. That which displayed elegance and splen- dour, when it existed only in idea, but too often becomes mean and uncouth when brought into real existence. THE EDITORS. COMMON DEEH. THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, AND AMWMmAW COMMON DEER. CERVUS VIRGIN I ANUS. [Plate!] Cervus Virginianus. Gmelin. — Fallow Deer. Catesby, App. ii. 28. Lawson, Carol. 123. — Virginian Deer. Pennant. Arct. Zool. i. 32. — Caricon femelle. Button, 12. pi. 44. — Cerf de la Louisiane. G. Cuv. Ossmen. Foss. iv. 34. Re gn. animal, i. 263. — Cerfde Virginie. Desm. Mammal, sp. 679. p. 442. — Common Deer. Godman. i. 306. — Pe ale’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 by Cuvier, exceedingly natural and well determined, nearly all the animals composing it, being formed on the same model, the 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 4 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, manner and constituted of the same integral parts as other bones. These protuberances begin to be developed at a given age ; the first appearance being a tubercle, which, in most cases, gradually rises into a simple antler, though in some species it branches off into ramifications; after a cer- tain period the development is arrested, and finally the horn is detached and falls off. The learned translators of Blumenbach’s Comparative Anatomy* have given the fol- lowing explanation of this curious process. “The antler adheres to the frontal bone by its basis; and the substance of the two parts 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 irregular projecting bony circle, and there is neither skin nor periosteum on 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 between the process of the frontal bone and the antler. This becomes more and more distinctly marked, until the 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 arises from this process, and takes 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 car- tilaginous; it is immediately invested by a true perios- teum, containing large and numerous vessels, which pene- trate the cartilage in every direction, and, by the gradual deposition of ossific matter, convert it into perfect bone. The vessels pass through openings in the projecting bony circle at the base of the antler ; the formation of this part proceeding in the same ratio with that of the rest, the open- ings are contracted and the vessels are thereby pressed, till a complete obstruction ensues. The skin and perios- teum then perish, become dry, and fall off; the surface of the 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- markable fact that 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 they 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 olfactory appara- tus. This spiraculum or sinus is not found in all species, some having only a fold of the skin or none, whilst in * Mr. Lawrence and Mr. Coulson. others it forms a sack. The French call them Im'miers, believing that they are receptacles for tears; this idea has also been adopted by poets: thus, Shakspeare gives the fol- lowing touching description of a wounded stag: “ The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat Almost to bursting ; and the big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase.” The voice of the genus is in general disagreeable. The females produce one or two fawns at a time. In temperate regions this takes place in the spring. The intellectual character of the Deer is far from contemptible; rendering the chase of the stag very curious. The amusement of 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 young animal in the first six months of its life was called a calf or hind calf, it then became a knobber; then a. pricket, brock, or staggard; next a stag, and after that a hart: the female, from a hind calf, becomes first a hearse and then a hind. The stag is said to harbour in the place in which he resides; when he cries he is said to bell; the print of his hoof is the slot ; the tail the single; his excrement the feumet; his horns are termed his head, and are, in the first year, broches; in the third year, spears; in the fourth year, the part bearing the antlers is called the beam; he has also antlers , sur-antlers, 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 observed, 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 the ocean. This beautiful and delicate animal is about three feet three inches in height at the shoulder, of a light and elegant form, with 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 antler, inclin- ing inwards; the first horn is only a simple pricket, which is succeeded by a fork on the summit; in the fifth year, the antlers consist of two cylindrical whitish and tolerably smooth 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, and the snags and point become dichotomous; while the burr widens considerably, and sometimes throws out spurious collateral shoots. The AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 5 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 part 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 grayish, 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 grayish. Mr. Say observes of these changes ‘ 1 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 leucurus, by Dr. Richardson, who observes that the name of C. macrourus 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 * Long’s Exped. to the Rocky Mountains, i. 104. B 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 Chevreuil, 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, Rubus, 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 eyes 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. When two or more rival males court the 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 teTenew the conflict with a fresh opponent. These comets are sometimes fatal to both com- batants, from them floras becoming so entangled with each other, as togprovent their disengagement, the irritated ani- mals we,v/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 Mountains, ii. 300. 6 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, who wars with the savage animals in his own defence, tyrannises 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 ma, pronounced very shortly. This is well simulated by the native tribes, with a stem of the Heracleum lanatum, 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 desperately, 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 need’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. We 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. 7 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 they 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 dothes, 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 brought to our markets. Pennant states that as early as 1764, 25,027 skins were shipped to England from New York and Philadelphia. Prom 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 soft 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 the 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, 8 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 been 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 difficulty, 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 pray. 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 j dry carcase out of its den. Its next care is to mount the sides of the pitfall and repair any damage it may have j suffered; and when this is accomplished, it again buries i itself among the sand at the bottom, leaving nothing but its i 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 scrophularise ). It first builds a case of sand, the particles of which are secured by threads of silk, and then tapestries the whole with a silken web. * j Within this it undergoes its transformation into a pupa, and in due time, it emerges in form of a four-winged fly, j closely resembling the dragon-flies ( Libellulse ,) vulgarly I 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 j adjusting, in all animals, the means of destruction and of escape. As the larger quadrupeds of prey are provided j with a most ingenious machinery for preying on the t AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 9 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 larvae are produced, in comparison with the number which pass into the pupa state; and how many pupae perish before they 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 an 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, because his instinct tells him that by these contrivances alone can he preserve his own existence, and continue that of his species. — Lib. Ent. Knowledge. 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 Mexico 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. X 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 are 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. f Ibid. p. 140. | Darby. § Geograph. Descrip, of the State of Louisiana, by W. Darby, Philadelphia, 1816. p. 102. 10 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 river, 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 with 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 great 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. 11 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 the 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- * Flint’s Geography, vol. 1. quil and settled state of the planet. They 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 miles long, and has a medium depth of from 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 differ- 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. f 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. — Ly ell’s Geology. * Darby mentions beds of marine shells on the banks of Red River, which seem to indicate that Lower Louisiana is of recent formation : its elevation, per- haps, above the sea, may have been due to the same series of earthquakes which continues 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, by 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 three 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.” * Jfdruuvc Try T.JJeuyhty. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 13 RUFFED GROUS, OR PHEASANT. TETRAO UMBELLUS. [Plate II.] Jlrct. Zool. p. 301, No. 179. — Ruffed Heath-cock , or Grous, Edw. 248. — La Gelinote hupee de Pennsyl- vanie, Briss. i. 214. — PI. Enl. 104. — Buff. ii. 281. — Phil. Trans. 62, 393. — Turt. 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. Griffiths, 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 country. 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 writers, have spoken of a Long-tailed Grous, said to inhabit the back D 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 always 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 gradually 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. Spotted Grous, T. Canadensis. Long-tailed Grous, T. Phasianellus, and Cock of the Plains, T. Urophasianellus. — Syn. Birds. U. S. by C. L. Buonaparte. 14 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, which 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 than 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 nest as soon as hatched, and are directed by the cluck of 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. 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 I 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 the dog or sportsman, unless indeed the dog be particularly 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 narrow 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, j chesnuts, black berries, and various vegetables, and in the spring of the year the tender buds of the young sassafras. 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 solitary and retired woody recesses. In the uninhabited wilds of the north, far 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 respectability 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 sufficient 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 prey struck down like lightning. The redeeming trait in the history of these cruel creatures is affection for their young.— Fam.Lib. 16 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, F or 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 the 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 i 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, j 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 i 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. 17 in a continuance of their visits, I believe the sum 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 healthy, pleasant bodily feelings would contribute vastly to the aggregate of their earthly happiness. Many persons are deterred 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 by food slightly stimulating, as gingerbread, &c. The writer of this article, has had the benefit of some personal experience 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 glistening ornaments 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.” I. T. S. 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 man y pies 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 high. 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, at the moment it rests against the shoulder, and fired 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. 19 ably 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 the author 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 instanter; 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 20 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 u birch ” is certainly a ticklish article; I was obliged to sit down on the bottom and hold myself as steady as possible, or the 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 persons and baggage, or six or eight hundred weight, and 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 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 turned out rather scanty, as we 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 scuffle, 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 of esquepomgole, * and a quantity of hemlock branches for a bed, closed the proceedings of the day. But Sunday did not end so comfortably; 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 zibet hi- 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 1 2th. 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 thewoods 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, ( Cornus alba,) it is smoked by almost all the different 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 , 13th. 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 22 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, further, we opened suddenly 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 ( Corvus 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 employed 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 twenty 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 this 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 Mitchell 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. 23 time collected as many berries as we could eat, and enough for our companions in camp. Bear signs were plenty, 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 Passamaquoddys 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 friendly 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 the 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 bejocldy, 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. The Value of agreeable amusements has been acknow- ledged in every age, as the most important advantages to health and happiness are in a great measure subject to their influence. If we find that both are interested and im- proved by archery, it must prove a sufficient reason for its being esteemed an eligible and useful amusement ; and if it can also be shown to possess some valuable qualifications which are not to be found in other diversions, the benefits to be derived from its practice will be still more con- spicuous. Archery, in fact, possesses many excellencies as an exer- cise, which renders it one of the most useful of the gym- 24 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, which 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 “ Fudor est nescire sagittas.” 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 agreeable 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. MISCELLANY. 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 story, 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 wull 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. PX. nlds- 2-itk- AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 25 RED FOX. CANIS (VULPES) FULVUS. Renard de Virginie. Palisot de Beaxjvois. Bui. soc. Phil. — Large Red Fox of the Plains. Lewis & Clark. — Red Fox. Sabine. App. to Franklin’s Jour- ney, 656. Godman, vol. i. 276. — American Fox. Richardson, Faun. am. hor. 91. — Canis fulvus, Desm. Mamm. 203. Icon F. Cuv. Mam. Lit hog. — J. Doughty’s Collection. The various species of the Fox have been classed by most naturalists in the genus Canis Lin. together with the wolf and jackal. From these animals, however, they differ in many 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, Ulig. Suricata, Desm. CroSsar- chus, F. Cuv. 3d. Those which have no tubercular tooth in the lower jaw, which includes Felis, Lin. Hyaena, Storr. Most of the species of the F ox 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 the charge and are generally G 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.”! 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. Most, 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 sjjort 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. * Charlevoix Travels, i. 207. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 27 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 will sacrifice a limb to escape — “by the indented steel With gripe tenacious held, the felon grieves, And struggles, but in vain, yet oft 'tis known. When ev’ry art has fail’d, the captive Fox Has shar’d the wounded joint, and with a limb Compounded for his life.” — Somerville. Chase. 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 those 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 them. 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 thicker, 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, “ It inhabits the northern parts of North America. This species gradually decreases to the southward in numbers and size; none are found lower than Pennsylvania. They are supposed not to have been originally natives of that country. The Indians believe they came from the north of Europe, in an excessive hard winter, when the sea was frozen. The truth seems to be, that they were driven in some severe season from the north of their own country, and have continued there ever since. The variety of British Fox with a black tip to the tail, seems unknown in America.” Kalm says, “ The red Foxes are very scarce here (New York); they are entirely the same with the European sort. Mr. Bartram and several others assured me, that, according to the unanimous testimony of the Indians, this kind of F ox never was seen in the country before the Eu- ropeans settled in it. But of the manner of their coming over, I have two accounts. Mr. Bartram, and several other people, were told by the Indians, that these Foxes came into America soon after the arrival of the Europeans, after an extraordinary cold winter, when all the sea to the northward was frozen. But Mr. Evans and some others, assured me that the following account was still known by the people. A gentleman in New England, who had much inclination for hunting, brought over a great number of Foxes from Europe, and let them loose in his terri- tories, that he might be able to indulge his passion for hunting. This, it is said, happened at the very beginning of New England’s being peopled with European inhabi- tants. These Foxes were believed to have so multiplied, that all the red Foxes in the country were their off- spring. ”t It is due to Kalm to state, that he considers neither of these accounts as satisfactory. Custis states, “ The Foxes hunted fifty years ago were gray Foxes, with one exception, this was a famous black Fox;” and in a note says, “ The red Fox is supposed to have been im- ported from England to the Eastern Shore of Maryland, by a Mr. Smith, and to have emigrated across the ice to Virginia, in the hard winter of 1779-80, when the Chesa- peake was frozen over.”J A correspondent in the American Sporting Magazine says, “ I think it probable that they were brought over and turned out at other places, and at very early periods. In 1789, when quite a boy, I was at the death of the first red Fox killed in Perry county, Pennsylvania. Not a person present, or any one who saw it for some days, had ever seen or heard of an animal of the kind. At last it was * Arctic Zoology, t Travels in North America. t Recollections of Washington, (extract from Sporting Mag.) shown to a Mr. Lenarton, an old Jersey man, who pro- nounced it an English Fox. He said the red Fox was imported into New York from England, by one of the first English governors, who was said to be a. great sports- man, and turned out on Long Island, where they remained for many years, but at last made their way on the ice to the main land and spread over the country. The red Fox and Canada hare are migrating south and west.”* In another letter from a correspondent in the same work the writer observes, “ with us (Virginia) he is supposed to have been brought from the continent — Germany, I think — and not from the island of Great Britain. I re- member well, when the first red Fox was seen in my native part of Virginia (in Goochland, on James’ River,) and the sensation it created among sportsmen. This was about fifteen years ago. ”t Both the above writers also state, that the gray Fox ( V. Virginianus) disappears on the appearance of the red. This, however, is not the case, as in many parts they are equally numerous. Such, as far as we have been able to investigate, are the proofs, that the red Fox is identical with the common Fox of Europe, being in fact descended from it. On the other hand many writers, as F. Cuvier, Desmarest, and Harlan, admit and describe the red Fox as a distinct species, but at the same time state that the European Fox is also an inhabi- tant of North America. Dr. Richardson says, the latter is probably a native of New Caledonia, and further ob- serves, “ Several of the voyagers who have visited the At- lantic coast of North America, mention two kinds of red Fox skins in possession of the natives; the one having a fine, long, silvery fur, of a reddish yellow colour, (C. fulvus?) the other of a smaller size, having shorter and coarser fur and less lively tints of colour ( C. vulpes?) I think it very probable that an investigation into the charac- ters of the American Foxes, will show that the reddish Fox of the Atlantic States is a variety of the C. cinereus , (Q. does Dr. Richardson mean the gray Fox by the C. cinereus ?) which has been mistaken for the European Fox.”J From the above contradictory and unsatisfactory ac- counts, we have been led to believe that there is but one species of red Fox in the United States, and the country north of them; this opinion is strengthened by much col- lateral evidence. Thus, Dr. Richardson expressly states, “ It (the common Fox) does not exist in the countries north of Canada, lying to the eastward of the Rocky Mountains, and consequently did not come under our * American Turf Register and Sporting Magazine, i. 74. t Ibid. i. 197. t 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 Kalin, 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 mqch 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 assafoetida, castoreum, and other analogous substances, with which they rub their traps, and small twigs set up in the neighbourhood, alleging that H % * ■ & ** " «3r V.. 30 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. Renard argente. F. Cuvier, Mamm. lith. livr. v.— Canis argentatus. Desmarest, Mamm. 203. Sabine Harlan. — Black , or Silver Fox. Godman, i. 274. CANIS C VULPES ) FULVUS. Var. a. Decussatus. AMERICAN CROSS FOX. Renard barrb ou Tsinantonque. Theodat. Canada , 745. — European Fox. var. b. Cross Fox. Pennant, Jlrct. Zool. i. 46. — Canis decussatus. Geoffroy, 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. CANIS r 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. — 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 very 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 F ox 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 in the United States, and will feel much indebted for such an opportunity of set- tling the question. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 31 WINTER W OLF-SK ALLS, 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 Stockholm. 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 Stockholm. 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 yards, in circumference. In the centre 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 royal 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 occupy 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 this 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 are 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 the summer. “When the Ofwer Jagmastare, or head forestranger, 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- 32 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, mation that they 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 night 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 slcalfogdar, or subordinate officers 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 the farthest point, the wild animals which have been shot are to be conveyed to the King’s skreen. “ No other 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. 33 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 cour. 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, Mr. 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. GreifF says, 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 destroyed 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 those 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 destroyed 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 Gefle. Here they began to pinch the ears, &c. of the pig, who 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 ,wthe 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 apimals, 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. 35 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 with 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*® 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- 36 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 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 wei’e followed, however, by nine out of the eleven Wolves; but, very fortunately, at the instant these had tentered 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 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 a rainy evening in the winter of 1815,” 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 Physical Journal, 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. 37 QUAIL, OR PARTRIDGE. PERDIX VIRGINIANUS. [Plate 1Y. — Male and Female.] Jirct. Zool. 318, No. 185. — Catesb. Jlpp. p. 12. — Vir- ginian Quail, Tukt. Syst. p. 460. — Maryland Q. Ibid. — Le Perdrix d’ Amerique, Briss. i. 231. — Buff. ii. 447. — Tetrao Virginianus, Linn. Syst. ed. 10, p. 161. T. Marilandicus, id. ib. — Perdix Virginiana, Lath, Ind. Orn. p. 650. P. Marilanda, id. p. 651. — Caille de la Louisiane, Buff. PI. 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; btit are found most usually in open fields, or along^ fences sheltered by thickets of briars. Where they are nor 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 ravages1 of the gun are added others of a more insidious kind. Traps ■are placed on almost every plantation, in such places as K 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 agaiiiyio be put to death, at 1 some future time, secundem 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- 38 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 jspeaking, 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, afford 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 multiply, 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 effort 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 be 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, where 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 continues 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 eomes 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 by 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 afield, on high ground; and from the cir- cumstance of their dung being often found in such places, in one round heap, it is generally conjectured that 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, afid 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 \s 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 drfess it has been described as a different kind. There is, however, only one species of Quail at present known within the United States. 40 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-s 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 this 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. 41 re-loading my rifle; this quieted my fears, and I gained my usual confidence. By this time the panther, writhing 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, providentially for me, 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 peculiar 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, (Valis- neria Americana.) 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 youth. 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 last 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 days 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, 43 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 toling , 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 fifty 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 the 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 the 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 44 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY. to the points in flying, although, if the Canvass back 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 flying 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 winged 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 head, 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. 45 touch any other kind, so refined is their taste. I have seen severe contests take place between 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, when 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 years, 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 immense; 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 stiff 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 flying. 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 by 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 stiff 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 rotundity, 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 sufficient 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 very 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 very 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 u 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 “Felting' rain, or more than 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 uroam~ 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 your 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 your 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 who 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, which 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 your 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 your 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 OP A GREY FOX. A few days since, 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 adr mirably to deceive his captors: he may, 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 suffer the “ sly intruder” to escape with his life. Dec. 22, 1830. T. D. THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, ANECDOTE OF A WILD GOOSE. Captain S , of N. ,T., while lying at anchor with his schooner, off Poole’s Island, in the Chesapeake Bay, observed a Wild Goose, (which had been wounded) attempt to fly from the top of a hill to the water, but being unable to reach its place of destination, 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. 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, 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. MISCELLANY. 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, ( Va.) Spectator. 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.” NEWEOUIfDL AIKTD DOG. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 49 NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. CANIS FAMILIARIS. 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 w'ere 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-t, molars fly. 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 are 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 ar#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 different 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 differ, 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 met 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 different 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- 50 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 many 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. Yar. 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 Albanian 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. extrarius. Linn. This also, is divided into many subvarieties. a. Small spaniel. Le petit epagneul. Buffon. b. 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. aquations. Linn. Grand barbet. Buffon. a. Small water spaniel. Petit barbet. Buffon. 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. O. The Alco. C. f. 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. 51 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 turc. Btjefon. 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 rue. 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 BufFon; 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, BufFon 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 who imagine the Dog to be a wolf or fox become domesticated, have deceived themselves. In this, however, BufFon 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 1828, 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 offspring, 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 Buffon, 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 by an examination of his teeth; in the earlier years they are exceedingly white and sharp pointed; but the farther he advances in life, the more they become covered wTith 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 sufferings. 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. 53 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 evidentlj'- 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 may 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 unacquainted with 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 a piece 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. 0 long. This Dog is no't remarkable for symmetry of pro- portions, and his motions are heavy; consequently, 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 1810, 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, poultry, 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 generally 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. 54 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 frequenting, 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‘ In tyre in Edinburgh, possesses a half-bred Newfoundland Dog, of which the author, after relating 6ome 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 memoir of his life, he mentions that a captain in East India Company’s service, was out shooting in India, he suddenly came on a large tiger, just as he had discharged his gun, he had no time to load again, but for a time stood his ground. At last he thought of a stratagem to put his unwelcome neighbour to flight, this was by turning his back to the animal and looking at it through his legs. He de- clared, that the moment the tiger saw this strange attitude, he took to his heels, and was out of sight in a few mo- ments. INSCRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. BY LORD BYRON. When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upneld 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, f vain insect! hopes to be forgfvei$ And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven! 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. 56 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY THE SLOTH. From Waterton’s Wanderings in South America. Let us now turn our attention to the Sloth, whose native haunts 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 tPfche 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 upori 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 scarcer and solitary animal, and being good food, he is never allowed to escape. He inhabits remote Sind 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 haunt|, 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, ,thaat 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 themame 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 opportuuity 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. 57 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 same1 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. There 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 branches 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 different 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 watei^and afforded 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- 58 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 him 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 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 hours 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 prehensile 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 prey, 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 which 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 this 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 HISTORY 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 ffiius enabling the surface to reflect different rays 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. Aristotle . £ Pliny. £ Worm. 1655. Solinus. The Cartesians. ^ Kircher. Goddard. Sonnini. £ Author in Encycloped.who I quotes the pre- ceding five Au- thors. J Encyc. Brit. ^ Eneyc. Edin. | Linnseus , 5 System. Nat. 3 Goldsmith , 5 Animat. Nat. 3 Hasselquist. Shaxv, Nat. Hist. Russell, Nat. Hist. 7 Aleppo. 3 Fleming, Philos. 5 of Zool. 3 French Academi- 7 Lacepede, Ovip. \ Quad. 3 D'Obsonvillc. J Dumeril, Diet. de7 Sciences Nat. 3 Cuvier , Regne Anim. Barrow , Travels in Africa. 3 The change of colour takes place when the animal becomes infla- ted. Takes the colour of bodies which it approaches, except red and white. From affections of the mind of animal. Reflection. By disposition of parts that compose the skin giving a different mo- dification to rays of light. Imagination of animal. Granules on skin reflecting colour of bodies adjacent. Their different affections increase or diminish the intensity of the tints of colour. Skin yellow ; blood violet ; change in consequence of different quantities of blood driven into skin at different times. Changes on exposure to sun ; colour seems to depend on state of health, temperature, and other unknown causes. Lungs render skin more or less transparent, and also change the 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. |From exposure to sun, changes colour. From objects on which they happen to be placed. According to states of animal. jFrom exposure to sun. Fear, anger, and heat. Blood violet ; vessels and skin yellow ; hence upon quantity of blood driven to skin depends colour. According as blood is sent more or less rapidly in contact with the fresh air inspired. According to their wants and passions, lungs render body more or less transparent, and force the blood more or less to flow to- wards the skin : that fluid coloured more or less brightly accord- ing to quantity of air taken into lungs. From quantity of oxygen in lungs. These quotations show that the opinions of naturalists on this subject are very various, and even contradictory. 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. 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 Linnseus, 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. 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 days 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 Wales and on the western coast of New Holland. They are generally seen in flocks of eight or nine together, floating on a lake; arujLwhen 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 difficult to approach within gunshot of them. — Menag. Zool. Soc. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 61 ROUGH BILLED PELICAN. P ELEC ANUS ERYTHRORYNCHOS. [Plate VI.] 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. Philadelphia Museum. The Pelicans belong to the family of Totipalmes, Cuv. which are distinguished by haying 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 Linnaeus, comprehended all of the palmated tribe, the base of whose bills are in a greater or less degree destitute of feathers, and haying 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, stoutish; 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 the U. S. 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 consider- 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. When 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 manoeuvres take place during the * Hamlet. Act 4. Sc. 5. f Descourtilz Voyages, d’un naturaliste, t.ii. p.241. 62 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 difficult 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 Egypt, 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 Tishexav,* 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 J 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 the 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 Onocratalus, t 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. f Book x. chap. 66, AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 63 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 agree 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- quently, will not serve as indications by which it may in- fallibly 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 silky. Bill flesh coloured; pouch, orbits, legs and feet, orange yellow; 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 onq 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 degree. 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.fuscus .) breed in vast numbers, but always 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 young 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 are 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 internally. In the species under consideration, the whole plumage is white, with the exceptions we have already noti'ced. 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 ana 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. 64 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 ydung, and much talked of by the old: its remines- censes afe of a character every way agreeable^o 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 fajind 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 the 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, andiarticles 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 which 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, commonly, 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 always 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^fvill 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 j 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. Chasing, running, and jumping, tend to give an imperfect idea of the art, and produce habits that are excessively difficult to Jbreak. Both feet should be AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 65 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 much 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 suffices 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 the 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 the gun in advance of the duck 66 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 sufficient 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. f 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 I 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 this 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. ” “^Vell,” 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 nearing 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 way 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 live miles, when we again saw him about 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 beforemention ed 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 off 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 off 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 jumped 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. 69 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 search of food, especially as he was leading off 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 off 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 efforts 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 we 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 Walton, 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 city. 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 fiftyabehind 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 70 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 difficult places, almost im- passable for man, and had we been in chase of any other animal but the “ three-legged Wolf,” the number of diffi- 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 Avith 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 11 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, especially 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 terribly, 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 top 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. We 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. When, 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. Sir, 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 opportunity, to be deposited in your valuable Museum. Other engagements, however, have hitherto prevented me from carrying this intention into effect, 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 72 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 Yellow 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 farther 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. PL pbaikie WOT.TF.S AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 73 PRAIRIE WOLF. t CANIS LATRANS. [Plate YII.] 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. hor. 73. — Barking Wolf. Godman, i. p. 260. — Philadelphia Museum. It is a subject of regret, that the information we possess 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 Mr. 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 ifs 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 eyelids 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 barking, 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 cliffs, 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 offal. Notwithstanding this arrangement, a wolf actu- ally burrowed under the flooring, and pulled down the bait j 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.) Not disheartened by these fruitless attempts, which were repeated and varied in every possible manner, Mr. Peale attempted another scheme, which eventuated in complete 1 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, j 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. 75 carnivora, even when most perfectly tamed, retain charac- ters peculiar 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 contrary, 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 the 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 76 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 ruffled. In the female the general colour of the feathers is of a greyish, or ashy- brown, slightly fringed with white. In both sexes the large 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 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. The 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 height 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 Estridge 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 difficulty 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 with 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 the 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 offsjDring, 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 truly 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 78 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 deliciae;” 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 Yopiscus, 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. CESTRUS HOMINIS, Or the Larva of a Gad-Fly, which 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 larvae of some species of CEstrus. Larvae 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 79 AND AMERICAN I countries, have reported extraordinary instances of flies, beetles, &c. working out their way from different parts of the human frame. Mr. 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 the pupa state, and afterwards produced a perfect insect as large as a flesh-fly. Lempriere, in his work on the Diseases of the Army 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 cribriforme, 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 blown by the flies. The maggots, whieh 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 particulars 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 LURAL SPORTS. 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 Systema Naturae, 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 System of Nature, there is the following notice of this insect, or of one of which the habits are similar. “CEstrus hominis. Body entirely brown. Inhabits South America, Linne ap. Pall, Nord. 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 which frequently becomes fatal.” We are informed that Killock, previous to this attack, while at work, usually wore his shirt-sleeves rolled up above his elbows; and that, while in George Town, Deme- rara, he generally slept on deck. It is easy then to sup- pose, that the CEstrus, or parent fly, had availed itself of a proper opportunity to deposite its egg upon his arm, proba- bly by a slight puncture of the skin, by means of the ovi- positor with which it is furnished. When the larva had attained its full size, it dropped out, instinctively searching for a covering of natural earth, in which to undergo the intermediate state of pupa, which it is destined to assume for a time before it becomes a winged insect. The instinct of the parent, however admirable under ordinary circum- stances, was, of course, insufficient to provide against the accident of Killock’s being a seafaring man, — and the larva could not have attained the perfect state, for want of the 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 of an inch; circumference round the centre, or thickest part, one inch; colour pale dingy apple-green, tinged with brown. The mouth appears to have been somewhat tubu- lar, but is furnished on its upper part with a pair of sharp, minute, hooked crotchets, of a shining black colour, pro- bably for the purpose of adhering more firmly to the spot from which it was desirous to draw its food. The eyes are large and prominent; their colour brown. The body is composed of nine rings or segments, exclusive of the head and anal portion. There are thus, in all, eleven segments, besides the mouth, the exact number of which the larvse of the European species consist. There are no feet. These organs are, however, obviously supplied by transverse cir- cles of small black spines or hooks, with which the princi- pal segments of the body are furnished; and, besides these, there are several rounded unequal protuberances on the back and sides. The latter are possibly produced or rendered more apparent, by the decrease of size which has taken place. Supposing these minute spinous hooks to be, along with the skin, under the control of muscular action, (and Lyonnet has beautifully exhibited the complicated muscular structure of another larva,) then, according to the direction in which the hooks are pointed, a wriggling motion would produce either outward or inward progression, and serve all the purposes of locomotive organs, just as (to use a familiar illustration) an ear of barley placed within the sleeve of a pedestrian, works its way in a direction oppo- site to that to which its beard is directed. As further testimony to the above, the following is copied from the Journal of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, being an extract of a letter from a gentleman from whose leg this larva was extracted. “After a very sultry day’s march, and being very much fatigued, I went to bathe in the Chama, a small stream emptying in the lagoon of Maracaibo. Not long after coming out of the water, I received a sting from some insect, in the left leg, over the upper and forepart of the tibia; it was several days attended with a considerable degree of itching, but without any pain, and I continued on my journey some few days longer, without experiencing much inconvenience, except during several periods of perhaps two or three minutes continuance, when an acute pain came on suddenly, and was severe whilst it continued, and then as suddenly subsided. On my arrival and during my con- tinuance at II Rosario de Cucuta, I walked with difficulty; there was a considerable tumefaction over the tibia, which had the appearance of an ordinary 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 days, attended at times with a most acute pain, which, for a few minutes was almost intolerable. “In returning to Maracaibo, I had to descend the Cotta- tumba in an open boat, without any shelter, and being wet to the skin by the cold rains which fell every night, I suf- fered much, and was almost constantly tormented by the tumour, which became more painful at those particular pe- riods than usual; during this passage, which lasted for twelve days, I was induced to scarify it, and had recourse to the usual topical applications, but without success. At times I imagined that I felt something moving, and suspected that there was something alive beneath the skin. u After my return to Maracaibo I became scarcely able to walk, and was in a manner confined to my quarters. In this situation I continued two weeks longer, the tumour having began to discharge, and without any diminution of the painful periods. “ Being now nearly worried out, it occurred to me to try a poultice of tobacco, which was used for several nights, having previously scarified the tumour; during the day, I frequently dusted it with ashes of segars: as an ingredient, I used rum instead of water, in making the poultice. On the fourth morning after this remedy, I felt considerable relief, and on the fifth, with a forceps, I drew out the worm which you have now in your possession, and which was 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 different 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 CEstrus Hominis. THE VOICES OF BIRDS. Rural 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. They 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 82 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 crouching, 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 Buffon supposed. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 83 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 the 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 conveyed 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 infinitely 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 the 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 are prevented from becoming dull and worn, like those of the dog, which would inevitably be the case, drd 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. — Waterton. . ' s ■ . . . b/ T.n«u.,u,- MEADOW I ADR. SNOW BIRD. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 85 MEADOW LARK. A LAUD A MAGNA. [Plate VIII. — Winter Plumage.] Linn. Syst. 2S9. — Crescent Stare, Arct. Zool. 330. No. 192. — Latham, m. 6. Var. A. — Le Fer-a-cheval, ou Merle a Collier d’Amerique, Buff. iii. 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. t. 42. f. 1. — Lath. Ind. Orn. i. 323. — Etourneau de la Louisiane. — Buff. iii. 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 hind claw, which is probably the reason why he has been classed, by some late naturalists, with the Starlings. But in the particular form of his bill, in his manners, plumage, mode and place of building his nest, nature has clearly pointed out his proper family. 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 feed. They are rarely or never seen in the depth of the woods; unless where, instead of underwood, the ground is covered with rich grass, as in the Choctaw and Chickasaw 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 Jersey, and those that border the rivers Delaware and Schuylkill, in all seasons; even when the ground was deeply covered with snow. There is scarcely a market day in Philadelphia, from September to March, but they Y 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 strain is repeated as before. They afford tolerable good amusement to the sportsman, being most easily shot while on wing; as they frequently squat among the long grass, and spring within gunshot. The nest of this species is built generally in, or below, a thick tuft or tussock of grass; it is composed of dry grass, and fine bent laid at bottom, and wound 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 the Virginians they are usually called the Old Field Lark. The length of this bird is ten inches and a half, extent sixteen and a half; throat, breast, belly, and line from the 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 each side by a stripe of black intermixed with bay, and another line of yellowish white passes over each eye back- wards; cheeks bluish white, back and rest of the upper parts beautifully variegated with black, bright bay, and pale ochre: tail wedged, the feathers neatly pointed, the 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. FR INGILL A HUDSONIA. [Plate VIII.] Fringilla Hudsonia, Turton, Syst. i. 568. — Emberiza hyemalis, Id. 531. — Lath. i. 66. — Catesby, x. 36. — Arct. Zool. p. 359, No. 223. — Passer nivalis , Bar- tram, p. 291. — Fringilla hyemalis , Linn. Syst. Ed. 10, i. p. 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 6now covers the ground, they become almost 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. 87 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 campaign, 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. 88 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 off 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 twenty 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 <7acA;-Snipe of England, is similar to it in habit, especially in this manner of alighting on the ground, and the follow- ing anecdote, related by Thornhill, in his Shooting Direc- tory, may not be inappropriately 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, ‘ 1 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 tkeir 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 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 89 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 young birds. They finally return to the southern States, and winter in the marshy and rice grounds, 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. j. 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 differing in sentiment, I feel much pleasure in replying to his “Stricture.” With respect to his first observation, on the principle of aiming 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- 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 eighty-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, 90 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 1142 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 in the present, is to speak of those kinds which are most 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 the world, 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 convenient 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 game. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 91 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 offered 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 sufficient 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 pew 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 fighr, 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. 92 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 bed 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 suffer 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 most furiously, 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 AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 93 ferocity, and exceeding courage, 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 my 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 were 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 day’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 difficulty — 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 in the general mirth, occasioned by his defeat, although pursued, by his inveterate enemy, with a determined spirit of revenge, in despite of his white flag, streaming from 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 ti-ophy of our perseverance. When 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 effect 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- grant clouds, and zrehale the cool breeze, which steals through the open doors of the tent. 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 the woods, with the certainty of getting a shot nineteen times out of twenty. Never pass a tank without peeping over the mound that surrounds it — you are almost sure of finding wild-fowl there. Often and often have I, in one of these lazy strolls, come suddenly upon hundreds of widgeon and teal; and so impudent were they frequently, that, even after firing at them, the flock would only move into the middle, or to the further end of the tank, if it were a large one. At this hour the quails and partridges leave the brakes, where they have sheltered themselves during the sultry noon, and feed in the stubbles. Jackals may be seen steal- ing about the thickets in every direction, and little grey- foxes bolt out before you like rabbits. The deer also may now be more easily approached whilst intent upon feeding, and a stalking-horse may sometimes be used with success: a bullock would be better, as they are more accustomed to its appearance; but it is surprising what a great dislike Indian cattle entertain for Europeans; and this would often defeat the sportsman’s manoeuvre. Nothing is more annoying than, after wasting an hour in endeavouring to approach a herd of antelopes, to see them all start off, bounding up into the air, and kicking their heels at you in scorn — -just too, as you were within long gun-shot, and enjoying in anticipation, the sweet cur- 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 sun never stands still : I have seen men, even old travellers, soft enough to encamp on the then shady side of the tree, and in an hour be exposed to the fiercest influence of the sun; which, under canvas, is no joke: frequently, the scorching heat has compelled me to take refuge under the table, when compelled to encamp in a spot utterly desti- tute of trees. It was on one of those delightful tropical evenings in February, that I was yawning under an old tamarind tree, under which my tent was pitched, and gazing upon the distant town of Balasore, and the wide prospect which extends from the hills of Orissa to the sea, when a * 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- isted in these wilds; but so it was: and the result of our conference was, that we should unkennel a jackal (would I might say a fox) at day-break. Before it was light we mounted our prads, and rode out from the residency to a village two miles distant, where a RURAL SPORTS. 95 black whipper-in and several doriyas were waiting with the hounds. As the gray dawn was hardly yet percepti- ble, I had ample time to look over this little pack by torch- light. To home-bred English eyes the turn-out would seem but a poor one: only seven couples and a half were in the field; and, of these, three dogs were curs, a half- bred, between a fox-hound and the common Indian pariah dog. They prove, however, exceedingly useful in worry- ing the jackals; and, being fast, generally receive most of those severe bites at the finish, which might cow, if not injure, the regular pack. The remaining six couples were some of the handsomest dwarf fox-hounds I ever saw: one couple of bitches, espe- cially, was such a perfect picture I could not help regretting they had” ever been sent to the deadly climate of the torrid zone. When I saw these hounds, two months afterwards, in the hot season, their condition had fallen off most lamenta- bly; and many of them, I should think, would never get over the rains. The hunting costume of India is rather antique: a cap, round coat, buckskin breeches, and, gene- rally, brown tops, characterise the fox-hunter of Bengal. Some modern innovations have crept in; but, in general, all Orientals are as wedded to ancient dustoora, or custom, as John Company is to his monopoly of tea. The Judge was accoutred in this style; and mounted on one of the most perfect brown Arabs ever seen — called (if I remember rightly) Jlmesbury, 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 docile, that the syce used to bring him into the breakfast- room every morning, when my fair hostess honoured him by supplying bread with her own hand for his unconscion- able stomach. Champion, once a good one, had received a wrench in the loins at a big jump, and was then perfectly useless. Balasore is but a small Civil station, and only four or five sportsmen joined us: one of them, Mr. Matthews, was mounted on a noble chesnut stallion, said to be one of the most perfect desert Arabs ever brought from the coast of Yemen. He was very high for an Eastern horse, and his 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- nut horse, of dubious breed, but which, though slow, went very well. We soon found a jackal, and had a sharp burst of a quar- ter of an hour, over ground full of holes and brambles, as hard as granite, and over fields divided by little banks at 96 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 your horse in a constant fret, and yet never give you a jump; excepting now and then, when you 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, 10 X 8 X 6 X 12 X 20= 115,200 : 1 x 1 X 1 X 1 X 1 = 1 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. — Jinn, of Sporting. iy T .V ouglvty . WOODCOCK SHOOTIN & 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 the 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 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 exiravagant 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 water creeks and shores of fresh water rivers — those extensive meadows 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 Jersey, in 1825, 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, 98 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 unsteady, 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 W oodcocks 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 always 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 young 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. 99 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 migratory, 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 offspring, 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 spirit-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 THE 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 'twould blaw its 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 cliffs, 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 th.e 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. 101 mire and to feel are both essential and valuable parts of our nature ; but neither 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 the 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, Es<*. 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, time will come When they shall meet no object but may teach Some acceptable lesson to their minds Of human sufferings, or of human joy, For then shall all things speak of Man. Wordsworth. 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 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 off 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 102 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 may, therefore, be justly inferred that the Divine Energy does in reality act, not imme- diately, but mediately i 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 dog, 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 effected, 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 which 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, th eprimum 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 the 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 which had built in the thatch 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 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 we 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 degree; but the ends which their natures are evidently destined to fulfil, would be, one might imagine, alone sufficient to re- fute the supposition. F or 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. 105 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 are 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;— that the moral quality of his actions becomes objective to him; — and yet this is absolutely necessary in order to con- stitute a moral consciousness; for, to effect 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 this 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 sufferings 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 OE NATURAL HISTORY doves and other birds, forms a distinguished feature in moral instinct; yet. we cannot suppose that the virtue of chastity or of conjugal fidelity is at all intended by the crea- ture, or attributable to it; although its actions are precisely the same as if such moral end were contemplated and in- tended by it: the polygamous species, indeed, have a claim equally as good as the monogamous, to the virtue of chastity, as far as regards their own conscious nature. But surely there must be moral powers which act upon and guide the natures of animals in order to produce these effects, while the creature is accessary, in apparent freedom, and uncon- scious of the power thus exerted on it; the wonderful ex- hibition of conjugal and social affections in some species of marine animals, in the Trichechi Boreales, for instance, is altogether superior to what can be explained upon any other principles; they will die in protecting their mates and each other. In their manners they are peaceable and harmless, bearing the strongest attachment to each other; but when attacked, some will strive to overset the boat, by going be- neath it; others fling themselves on the rope of the hook by which their comrade is held, and endeavour to break it; while others again make efforts to wrench the instrument out of the body of their wounded companion: none desert him, but persist in their courageous efforts for his rescue, even to the last! Their attachment to their mates is, if possible, still more astonishing, and cannot be contemplated without exciting the most vivid sympathy and admiration. It is indeed the most perfect lesson of fidelity and heroic devotion. If in this case we could suppose the creatures capable of reflecting upon the nature of their actions, which are the evident results of a moral influence, what must we think of them? — or rather, what must we not think of them? For it is to be observed, that this conduct is adapt- ed to circumstances, and discovers an apparent rational discrimination, as well as an apparent moral conscious- ness, in the means employed by the creatures towards the accomplishment of the ends which the exigency suggests. The controlling energies which direct the limited con- scious powers of brute creatures to particular ends, are wonderfully displayed again in the economy of the cuckoo, which lays its eggs in the nest of the hedge-sparrow, and in those of other small birds; these birds, so far from molest- ing the young intruder, — who, in a singularly curious man- ner, expels its companions, the small birds’ progeny, from the nest, in order that itself may be exclusively and ade- quately fed by the parents, — feed and cherish it, till it ar- rives at nearly its full growth; that is, until it is four or five times the size of the foster-parents. The cuckoo, as if conscious that one of her overgrown nurslings would be quite sufficient for the hedge-sparrow or wagtail to attend to and provide for, although she lays several eggs, deposits them in as many strange nests, belonging to these little birds; for she never builds herself: she acts, in fact, as if she calculated exactly what should and what would he done by others, for the rearing of her progeny. Another very curious circumstance noticed by Dr. Jenner, in con- nection with his remarks on the natural history of the cuckoo, is the power exercised by birds, — which, he says, may arise from “ some hidden cause in the animal econo- my,”— either of retarding or of accelerating the pro- duction of their eggs, according to circumstances. Moral and intellectual design and active energy, above the con- scious faculties of the creature, is surely evident in all this; for the creature is not a mere piece of mechanism, but has a manifest conscious freedom in the performance of its peculiar natural acts; but which freedom is thus as mani- festly controlled by superior influences, of which it is un- conscious. How, otherwise, can we possibly account for the incessant endeavours of the young cuckoo to dislodge its fellow inmates of the nest, while, as yet, it has scarcely extricated itself from the egg: it cannot reflect upon the necessity of its operations, either for ultimate preservation, or for present convenience; yet it acts as if it did, and takes the most effectual means for the accomplishment of those ends. Will those who attribute design to such ac- tions, say, that the design of taking the immediate steps necessary for the preservation of the creature can reside within its own consciousness? It surely cannot. — The final purposes which are the primary motives of its ac- tions, are far above what it can either conceive or survey; otherwise the cuckoo must indeed be a urara avis in ter- ris ,” a feathered philosopher of no mean or despicable talent. One of the strongest instances of apparent moral sa- gacity, is that well-known one recorded of the elephant, which is said to have taken place in Delhi. An elephant having killed his Cornac, or governor, it is related that the man’s wife, in despair, threw her two children before the animal, saying, “ Now you have destroyed their father, you may as well put an end to their lives and mine,” — upon which the animal, relenting, and taking up the big- gest of the children with his trunk, placed him upon his neck, and having thus adopted him for his Cornac, would never afterwards permit any other person to mount him. In this case we cannot suppose the animal to have reflected upon the deed of slaughter he had committed as wrong , nor upon the act of atonement or reconciliation as right, without making him an accountable agent; there are, how- ever, the strongest possible features of right and wrong, ia the two acts and their attendant circumstances, which must unquestionably belong to an agency above the proper con- sciousness of the creature. For we have here a case of AND AMERICAN 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 whole , 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 above 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 sam^e 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. Baby, 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, 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 poverty, 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 W'as 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 body. 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 accomplishment. 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 enjoyment 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 sufficiently 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. PL . 10 ty T. Douyhty. GOOSANDER. ~ GOLDEN EYE AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 109 GOOSANDER. MERGUS MERGANSER. [Plate X. — Male.] L' Harle, 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. 1. — Le Harle, Buff. Pl. 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: 11 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, are 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 plumaged 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 110 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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. ANAS CLANG ULA. [Plate X.] Le Garrot, Briss. vi. p. 416. 27. pi. 37. fig. 2. — Buff, ix. p. 222. — Arct. Zool. No. 486. — Lath. Syn. iii. p. 535. — Le Garrot , PI. Enl. 802. — Morrillon, Arct. Zool. n. p. 300. F. — Br. Zool. No. 276, 277. — Lath. Supp. ii. p. 535, No. 26, — Ind. Orn. p. 867, No. 87; A. glancion, Id. p. 868, No. 8S. — Gmel. Syst. i. p. 523, No. 23; Id. p. 525, No. 26. — Temm. Man.d’ O) n. 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; the 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 ( Anas 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 off 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. ill 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 112 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 difficult 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, y.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. 113 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 gaff, 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 only 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 them, 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 different species which the fresh waters 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 sufficient 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 unnecessary, 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 off 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 Port 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 uniformly too deep. The rapids above, where the water is in many parts shoal, and the rocky bottom clear of grass, is the proper place for trolling. 114 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 trailers 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 trailer'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. 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 seem to be swimming backwards. And now she flies across a shoal — at first glimpse the little skiff 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, 115 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, continually, 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 sufficient 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 you 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, only 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. 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 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 the 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 sw'allow and the trout contend, as it were, for the gaudy May-fly; and till, in pursuing your amusement in the calm and balmy evening, you are serenaded by the cheerful thrush, performing the offices 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, display 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 confervx 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. Messrs. Editors, 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 latter bird) has fully 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. 117 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 Gg 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 exactly is the 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. 1 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 effi- 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 118 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 effective 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 pleasure 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 neighborhood 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 afford us better success, we determined to set off 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 turned by the plough, and towards the middle of the day 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 Duclc-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 Welsh’s Point, at daylight, 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 suffered 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 caitiffs 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 the 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 secundum artem, 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- ever 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 time 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 his 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 of 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 flowers, 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 song, That comes in melody, sweet and strong, From the depth of the grove, 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 mysterious. Months 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. 121 GRISLY BEAR. URSUS HORRIBILIS. . [Plate XL] Grisly Bear. Mackenzie, voyages fyc. 160. — Grisly, brown, white and variegated Bear. Lewis & Clark. — Grizzly Bear. Warden’s United States. Godman Nat. Hist. i. p. 131. — Ursus0 Horribilis. Ord. Say. Expedit. to the Rocky Mountains, ii. p. 52. — Ursus Cinereus. Desm. Mammal. — Ursus Ferox. Lewis & Clark. Richardson. Faun. Am. 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 Ursus, or the Bears, is characterised by their complete plantigrade walk, from their claws, which are five in number, incurved, ^arge, and powerful, from the short- ness of their tail, and from the peculiarities of their dental system. They are extremely powerful, but clumsy, slug- gish, and uncouth, generally feed on vegetable substances being in fact but semi-carnivorous. They will, how- ever, sometimes destroy the ^mailer 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 different species ; all the discussions that have been entered into, 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 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 different 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 eyes, 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 •, front arcuated, $he 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, muffle of the nostrils black, the sinus very distinct and profound ; lips, 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 of the foot is more amply furnished. Teeth, ifiicisors 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. “ Anterior feet , claws elongated, slender fingeVs 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 Wjidth 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.”* * Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, Vol. II. p. 52. 122 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY The accounts of the dimensions of these animals differ ; 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 extremity, 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 the 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 Buffalo, 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 difficulty, 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 "Richardson. 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 informs 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 of observing the manners of the Grisly Bears; and it often happened, that in turning the point of a rock or sharp angle of a valley, 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 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 st'ccidentally, 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 notwithstanding its 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 family, this was*deemed an insult, resented accordingly, and produced a war between these nations.! 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 top, 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- * Richardson, O. C. t Trans, of the Lit. and Philos. Soc, of New York. 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.”* Most 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 exhausted that they jyere 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 they 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 gi'eat 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 i 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- M blade from the body, and devoured it before any one could f 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.”! Their skins were ably prepared, and now form part of the 1 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 * Long’s Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, vol. 2 p. 55. t Godman’s Nat. Hist. Vol. 1. p. 133. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 125 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 ;J;his 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 Morse’s geographjr 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- * Tower Menagerie, 128. I i 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 system 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, cowardly, 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 Prey. 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 126 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 falling 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 this 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 Linnaean 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-feather, 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. 127 the crop, where the naked skin has a bluish tinge. A broad ruff 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 first 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 notun- 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 only, 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 sight. 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 Lanigera. 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 woonderfull smoothe and soft skinne, which they weare as a healthfull thing to comfort the stomacke, and those parts that have neede of 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. Dorn. 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 squirrell, 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 Chinches, 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 Buffon; 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 country. 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 Linnsean 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 1810, 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 myself, 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 Schmidtmeyer’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 Kk boys with dogs, and sold to traders who bring them to Santiago and Yalparayso, 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 Beechey, 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 enamql, and the fourth having an additional portion of bone and ehamel, but smaller than the two principal ones. The direction of the parallel laminae 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 within 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 130 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 Linnsean 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. 131 room, when it would show off 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 tht 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. I 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. Geoffroy 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 12§ 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, with humps on their shoulders, who supplied her with milk during her passage to Europe, are as 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 giraffe, who, without quitting her place, bent her head over mine, and helped herself to the carrots in my hand. Her keeper, named Ati, 132 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY and from Darfur, is a tall well-proportioned black, and at his own request a little gallery has been erected for him in the 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 he walks into Paris he assumes the European costume, for in his native garb all the children in the streets recognise him, and calling out, “ Ati ! Jiti ! comment v a 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 much 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 (Vultur 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 efforts 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 baleine des 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 oh 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 Plsseres. 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 the Gallinacese, 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. 133 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 Koi out of his habitation, and converting that and some lecture rooms into a gallery for the heavier quadrupeds, such as elephants, hip- popotami, &c. on 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. 27 Burton Street, Nov. 19. L 1 ROBIN. TURD US MIGRA TORIUS. [Plate XII.] Linn. Syst. i, p. 292, 6. — Turdus Canadensis, Briss. ii, p. 225, 9. — La Litorne de Canada, Buff. iii, p. 307. — Grive de Canada, PI. Enl. 556, 1. — Fieldfare of Carolina, Cat. Car. 1,29. — Red-breasted Thrush, Arct. Zool. ii, No. 196. — Lath. Syn. ii , 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 of the neck, and tail is black; 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 cater- 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, 1S07, 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 with the Robin, after they are mellowed by the frost. The juice of 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 * Governor 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 ( T urdus 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 character of his namesake in Britain, 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, lxii. 399. t Journey to the Northern Ocean, p. 418, quarto. Lond. 1795. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 135 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, as 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. S. SIALIS. [Plate XII.] Le Rouge gorge bleu, Buffon, v. 212, PL Enl. 390. — Blue. Warbler, Lath, ii, 446. — Catesb. i, 47. — Mota- cilla sialis, Linn. Syst. 336. — Bartram, p. 291.— Motacilla sialis, Linn. Syst. i ,p. 187, Ed. 10. — Gmel. Syst. i, p. 989. — Sylvia sialis, Lath. Ind. Orn. n, 522. — Vieillot, Otis, de PAm. Sept. pi. 101, male; 102, female; 103, young. — La Gorge rouge de la Ca- roline, Buff. PL Enl. 396, Jig. 1, male; Jig. 2, fe- male.— J. Doughty’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 bMoved female. He uses the tenderest 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 ( Motacilla 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 author. 136 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-breast of 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 ages? 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 Bahama 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,yand 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 sufficient 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 M m — 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 138 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 off 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 off 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. 139 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 this 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. 140 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 desirious 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 looserme 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 great 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 j 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- J cock, held oddly enough by one wing, and struggling vio- !j lently. As the direction in which the crow passed was j directly across the road along which the gentleman was tra- | veiling, he formed the design Of compelling his rapacious j Crowship to releasff 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. j Believing the foregoing to be an unusual occurrence, I !j submit it for the speculation of the curious. A. B. May , 1831. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 141 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 her 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 secondly, 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 Yirgil — cadem sequitur tellure repostos Cura canum. 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 M m 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. 142 TOE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY REPLY TO SPORTSMAN’S REJOINDER. Messrs. 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 commencement 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 87 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 87 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 different 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 “ philosophically 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 v 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 fixed 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- 0 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 that AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 143 point will be now 1900 feet to the east. But in its flight, it will have made a mathematical 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 some 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 day. 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 off 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 highest branch, appa- rently in deep reflection as to tlfe 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 any thing from your hand. He possesses great courage, and has several battles daily with two superb wild turkey cocks of great size and most brilliant plumage, which we have do- mesticated. Last year, when they were in their second season, he beat them both, but this j7ear they overpower him with their great weight; and besides, they are now joined by a son, a half-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 Green, 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 144 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 ojf his master, right or wrong, on all occasions; and Ferdinand protects his canine friend, 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 are 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 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, the 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. r.L.13 1. Trout of Si/rer Lake, drawn ft oru one ffyi t/te/ies to no. ■ Mate ffrook Trout etrarjsn from one & f/trfter /o/ttf fn Septum.'. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 145 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 very 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 calarno, 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 ’tis done, then ’twere well It were done quickly,” which, I believe, has been quoted in the Cours 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 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 you 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, slightly 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 146 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 argillite; or why the acotyledonous and monocotyledonous plants before the animals, and you shall hear him talk — “Good gods! how he 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 lumi- 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 long past of the megalosaurus and the plesiosaurus! “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 differ- 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 Ossianic; 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 vour towns. But how I have wandered ! 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 Lake, 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. 147 ence between a malacoterygian and an acanthopterian; nor between the chondropterygian and the branchrostegous, I shall say nothing on that subject. The drawitig 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 lhat 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 hippuris — 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 Waltbn when I was a boy! I believe I have read every thing which has been published on the “ dis- poses 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 thoughtlesss trout espy, 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 praise 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 failure, 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 artificial 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 you to “ use him as though you loved him;” 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 days, 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 ; Which by rapacious hunger swallowed 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 ihe sgvater. 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 I — 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, I should have found this worm, of all the worms of the earth, and should put it on this hook, among the trillions of hooks, t8 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-bag 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 different 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 lunch 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 us : “ 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 off?” 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 suffered 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 objectively, 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 150 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 with respect to any perception of their own qualities in the abstract, the 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. 151 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 voluntary 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, o‘f 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 imparting warmth to the inclosed little ones, but, in attempt- bottom or apex. It is indefatigable in its labours, and re- ing this, the comb tottered so violently, that the scheme lieves the leg which it uses as a shovel to load its head, by was almost impracticable. To remedy this inconvenience, working through each successive circle in an opposite direc- and to make the comb steady, they had recourse to a most tion, and thus exercising each leg alternately, always work- ingenious expedient. Two or three bees got upon the ing with the one next the centre. When it meets with comb, stretched themselves over its edge, and with their stones too large to be jerked from its head, it contrives to heads downwards, fixed their fore-feet on the table upon get them poised upon its back, and if in ascending the sides which it stood, whilst with their hind-feet they kept it from of the pit, the stone should be again precipitated, in renew- falling. In this constrained and painful posture, fresh bees ing its attempt to carry it up, it avails itself of the channel relieving their comrades when weary, did these affectionate made by the falling stone, as a road, against the sides of little insects support the comb for nearly three days! at the which it can support and direct its load in the ascent. Sta- end of this period they had prepared a sufficiency of wax, tioned at the bottom of its little pit, if an Ant should stum- with which they built pillars that kept it in a firm position: ble over the margin it hastens the descent and capture of its but by some accident afterwards these got displaced, when prey by the fall of little loads of sand which it jerks in they had again recourse to their former manoeuvre for sup- quick succession upon the escaping insect. All this how- plying their place, and this operation they perseveringly ever is surpassed by the Termites , whose nests are formed continued, until M. Huber, pitying their hard case, relieved of clay, and are as large as huts, being generally of no less them by fixing the object of their attention firmly on the a height than twelve feet, and broad in proportion, and table. which when in clusters resemble an Indian village, and may “It is impossible,” the authors remark, “not to be at a distance be mistaken for one. The interior of one of struck with the reflection that this most singular fact is in- these structures presents a most surprising skill and intelli- explicable on the supposition that insects are impelled to gence, both in the construction and appropriation. The their operations by a blind instinct alone. How could mere apartments, avenues, and communications, consisting of machines have thus provided for a case, which in a state of vaulted chambers, built of various materials, galleries con- nature has probably never occurred to ten nests of Humble- structed spirally for the facility of ascent, arches or bridges Bees since the creation? If, in this instance, these little of communication, said to be projected, not excavated, are animals were not guided by a process of reasoning, what is appropriated for royal and other apartments, nurseries, the distinction between reason and instinct? How could magazines, &c. No one can surely contemplate the gigan- the most profound architect have better adapted the means tic, and at the same time scientific, operations of these won- to the end — how more dexterously shored up a tottering derful creatures, — which yet are scarcely the fourth of an edifice, until his beams and his props were in readiness ?” inch in length, — without feeling struck by the manifesta- A process of reasoning, or intellectual deduction, is here tion of an agency far above the discrimination of the sub- certainly incontrovertible, but this, at the same time, is so jects in whose actions it is presented, and whose economy much beyond the nature and condition of the creature, that is justly characterized as “ a miracle of nature.” we cannot suppose it performed within its proper conscious- But the operations of an intelligence in the conduct of the ness. What, then, in this case, and if in this case, in insect race, superior to the conscious faculties of the creature, every other, is the distinction between reason and instinct? is made still more manifest by its appearance not only in It is, I apprehend, this: reason is a deduction of intellect what has been called blind instinct, — which term itself, within the conscious perception of the subject whose actions rightly interpreted, must imply the existence of controlling exhibit it: — instinct is a similar deduction of intellect, not influences, — but also by its development in strictly contin- within, but above the conscious perception of the subject gent acts, affording evidences of the same intelligent de- whose actions exhibit it. For a consciousness of possess- sign and adaptation, in agreement with what such particular ing and exercising such intelligence cannot exist without circumstances require. That such do really occur, the fol- elevating its subject to that intellectual freedom which is lowing extract will satisfactorily demonstrate: the proper and distinguishing characteristic of human ra- “ In the course of his ingenious and numerous experi- tionality. ments, M. Huber put under a bell glass about a dozen Hum- If we ascend to the higher classes of animals, fewer in- ble-Bees, without any store of wax, along with a comb of about stances occur of those operations which include in them ten silken cocoons, so unequal in height, that it was impossi- principles of science; and the actions of this character ble the mass should stand firmly. Its unsteadiness disquieted which are to be observed among such animals, do not appear the Humble-Bees extremely. Their affection for their to arise from a conscious free principle, but to be the result young led them to mount upon the cocoons, for the sake of of a dictation, similar to that by which the operations of the AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 153 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 effects 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. 11 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 ? In the summer you 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 destroy the young 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 young 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 absolutely 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 154 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, ( Mus Cri- cetus.) The principle of foresight, as exhibited in this animal, who lays up food, u 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 flow 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 anything 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 naturaof 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 effects, 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 this inferior region is illumin- ed, by the glorious light of intellect and rationality which AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 155 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 reflected upon or contrived by them as such; thus that they possess no intellectual or scientific consciousness, and, con- sequently, that no intellectual or scientific design can be at- tributecLto 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 .vof 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 souths 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 pathways in the sea or the air. The seal, which, during summer, is found in such numbers on the dreary shores of Greenland, Jan Mayen, 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 the 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, 156 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 birds should have a greater range, is in perfect accordance with the general law of nature. The apparatus with which the majority of birds are furnished for preparing their food for digestion in the stomach, confines that food within a smaller compass than 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 larvae, or the seeds, and green and succulent leaves of plants; while quadrupeds, being 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, there is still some food for a portion of those quadrupeds 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. But in the severity of the northern winter, the food of the feathered tribes fails. The earth and the waters are bound up in ice, so that the worms and larvae 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 evergreen 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, without much inconvenience; and 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 paternal instinct ceases to operate; they feel no more for the brood of that year. It is each for itself individually during 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 qonsequence 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 are left, in those places which they are unable to quit. 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 jace. Now, in this very fact of the migration of birds, $ simple and natural as it may seem, and unheeded as it is 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 Jielpless 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, — sum- 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. 1 AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 157 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 swim 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 different sort from that believed in by the superstitions of antiquity. It has no connexion with the offices 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 off 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 effect, 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. SCO LOP AX MINOR. [Plate XIV.] Arct. Zool. p. 463, No. 365. — Turt. Syst. 396. Scolo- pax minor, Lath. Ind. Orn. p. 714, No. 2. Gen. Syn. 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. The 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 manoeuvres are most usual in spring, and are the call of the male to his favourite female. Their food consists of vari- ous larvae, 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 off to the south. This bird, in its general figure and manners, greatly re- sembles the Woodcock of Europe, but is considerably less, and very differently 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 PL. 14. iHi WOODCOCK AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 159 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 coihmon 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 off 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 the American Woodcock says, that 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- scription 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 eye; 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 every year 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 andrivers, displays strongly the acuteness of their understandings. Beltrami. 160 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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,' jjWe 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 fpr 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 summer 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 necessary, in order to give him all the advantages of an j 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, j 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. 161 sure, to undergo a severe training and a second course of education, when 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 sufficient 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 offending 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 S s 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 3’our 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 you 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 011 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 young 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 OP 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 way, 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 be an 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 w'ill 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 efforts 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 less, according to the temperature of the AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 163 atmosphere, sometimes spreading over a considerable sur- face: therefore, when a Dog by ranging with 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 rarity 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 half 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 bis neck; and the smaller end fastend inside or behind his lower tusks/by means of a buckskin cord. This instrument wili put the Dog to much inconvenience, at first, and he will try his best to rid himself of it; but finding his efforts unavailing, will follow quietly after you for some lime, but will soon become accustomed to it, and then rang 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. (To be continued.)* FINAL ANSWER TO I. T. S. Gentlemen, 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 your corres- pondent allows for the passage of the contents of the gun to its object, that his 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 sixty yards distance, and supposing the duck to fly at the rate of 87 feet in the second; it follows that but the 174th part of a second would elapse for the effect of the shot, from the first touch of the trigger. And supposing, i64 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 ec 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 the 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 resort 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 your 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. 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 Of mi Lor Chichester, von league from this ville. I vas me sitting at mine dejeun6 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. Yat for dis gentleman coat ? ' I demande of de vaiter ; shall it be de king? “No, sare,” said he, “it be Monsieur Jacque Bunce 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 fgot 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 vare many peoples had come, and a large flock of dogs, and two gentlemens in rouge habits and black bonnets, who vere grand chasseurs under Monsieur Crav- ing, de grand maitre de chiens. — “ Ou est votre mousquet ? vere is your 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.” — u Yill 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 de 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 ! ” I SPORTSMAN. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 165 i< 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 moeh 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 6toopid b£te 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.” — “Vot him 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 Monsieur 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 offer 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 : you 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 YORK CLUB.) Op all the themes that writers ever chose To try their wits upon- in verse or prose, A Pigeon-shooting 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 off with shoes and coat, While anxious D***s opens wide his throat, And roars, come M****ll! B***'*s! H****n! come, Let’s make a match for any modest sum. But S** y*******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 offers B*****y a bet, One out of ten, which makes the old man fret. 166 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY “ Ya know I cannot do ’t, and Jarvis, tew, “ And if I could, why hang me if I dew.” 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****n; 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 whitehead, 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. The outscouts 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 AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 167 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 Major’s* liquors. D. J. * Major Rose, who formerly kept the tavern on the ground where the New Pigeon Club shot their matches. PROSPECT OF GAME. 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 May, an occasional “ Bob 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 affording 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. An interesting Pigeon match, for Five Hundred Dollars a side, was decided on Wednesday, June 22d, 1831, at Cornell’s near Bristol, Pa. The parties were Messrs. T. P. G. and J. L., of Philadelphia, against Dr. G. W. and Mr. H. S., of New Jersey. Each person shot at twenty birds, twenty yards from the trap, and stood as follows: Birds. Birds. Mr. T. P. G 15 Dr. G. W 17 Mr. J. L 19 Mr. H. S 15 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. Mr. 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. 168 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY BUFFALO HUNT. We set out on the 24th July from Lake Travers, of which we took leave with a salute T»f 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, ancl 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 buffalo we saw. I soon came up with and passed him, though he was two miles off, 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 gentlemefi 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 buffalo’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, Cianiapa-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 Marcus 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 by 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. Mk‘ur* a,ld an Slane ii r Da^r GTtOWYD SQUIRREL . AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 1 69 GROUND SQUIRREL. SC I UR US (TA MIA SJ L YS TE RL [Plate XV.] Sciurus Lysteri. — Ray, Synops. Quad. 216. — Sciurus Striatus. Klein, Pull. Glires, 378. — Gmel. Schreb. tab. 221. — Sciurus Carolinensis, Briss. Reg. An. 155. No. 9. — Ecureuil Suisse — Desm. 339, 5 p. 547. — Es- curieux Suisses. — Sagard-Theodat, Canada , P. 746. Ground Squirrel, Lawson, Carolina, P. 124. — Cates- by, Carol. Vol. 2. p. 75. — Edwards, Vol. 4, t. 181. Kalm, Vol. 1. p. 322. t. i. — Godman, Vol. 2. p. 142. Striped Dormouse, Pennant — Arct. 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, afford 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, 170 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY cherry-stones, &c. these, as had been before stated, form 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 the 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 ears, 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 gray, 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 greyish 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. 171 fire lit upon the shore — the usual signals, and imports a welcome and a good landing, &c. Those of our party wre had sent for the copper rock were there; and hearing the yoyageurs 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 , Jiug. 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 effectually 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. Meanwhile, 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 Maakudayioeckoouyga, 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 my 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 Dieu!” they exclaimed, and Mr. 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 w.e 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 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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. Mary’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 military. 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 — Foo-Shoo,” — and on re- ceiving the pork and flour, was confounded at his unex- pected good luck, and seemed grateful. Thermometer, sun-do.wn, 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 it 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. A single star is at her side, and reigns With her o’er half the lovely heav’n; but still 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 ; parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest — till all is grey.” — 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.” I 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 , August 18 th. — 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 jj 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. J ust 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 White-fish, 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. 173 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 destroyed 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 papillae situated at the extremity of the abdomen, yet the manner in which these aerial jonrneys are effected still remains involved in obscurity, 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, wThich 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, 1826, which was a remarkably calm sunny day, 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; accordingly, 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 effect 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 affording 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, affords 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. 175 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 day 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, I 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; and if the result was satisfactory, after tightening them sufficiently 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 16th of 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, particularly 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 eyery 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 eyes 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 size 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 Siistema Naturae, 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. 177 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 steep 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 years 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 till, 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. Y y 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 178 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 reasons, for what to us appeared a great and marvel- lous secret.” Hutton. 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 Mediterranean, 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, then 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 velocity, 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 are 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 twenty 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 i barrier which crosses the narrowest part of the Straits of Gibraltar. What, then, becomes of the excess of salt? — for this is an inquiry 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, silicia, alumina, sulphur, and other mineral ingredients, in a state of chemi- cal solution. To explain why 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 of soda can, in like manner, be precipitated, the wh muriate ole 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 difference 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 of 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 “ 6tangs” 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 to the existence of an inferior current flowing westward, none of the ex- periments made in 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 in 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 l’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 Tariffa 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 1784, 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. LyelVs Geology. CESTRUS 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 worthy 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 by 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. “I have often, 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, crawls about till it dies ; others are washed off by water, or are hatched by the sun and moisture thus supplied together. When in 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 larvae 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 fly appears. “ 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 by 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 60, and from that to about 80 de- grees. This change, if suddenly applied, would in all pro- bability be fatal to them ; but they 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 through 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. or • rii SWANS. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 181 WILD SWAN. CYGNUS FERUS. [Plate XVI.] (By John T. Sharpless, M. D.) Anas cygnus ferus, Linn. — Cygnus ferus, Briss. — Le Cygne sauvage, Buff. — Elk, or Hooper Swan, Ray Whistling Swan, Lath. Pennant. — Cygnus musicus, Bechst. — Sivan, Wilson’s List. — Wapa-Seu, In- dians Hud. Bay. — J. Doughty’s Collection. The Swan has been emphatically called the peaceful monarch of the Lake. It is undoubtedly the most beau- tiful of all the water-birds, whether we consider the 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 dying 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 dying 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 sang, 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,) 3dly, the Black Necked S. of the Falkland Islands, (C. nigricollis) , 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 i3 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 Bay 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 this vernal expedition. The Swan breeds in Lapland, Kamtschatka, 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 say, 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. When 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 different 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 of forces 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 about daylight with a general feu-de-joie of 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, “ by 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, IT. 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 pursuit of 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. 183 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 unwounded 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 Swan, supporting a broken wing, and almost lifting the sub- ject of their affectionate care out of the water. 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 the common 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 yet satisfied myself of the existence of two species of the American Swan, I have supposed the various voices depended on age or sex, the 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 flesh 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 be disabled 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 pieces of 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 former^ 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 his 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 heretofore never been given to the public. The following description of the Genus Cygnus 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. ferus. 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 Menagerie of 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 the 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. cygnus ferus ) 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 Linnaean Transactions of London, has asserted the existence of two distinct species in the English 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 the 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-yellow — tail havingeighteen feaihers, whole length three feet 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 furcatorium), 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 cavity 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 3-8 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. 185 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, to occupy 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 Freneh 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 of 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 ttje 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 hodyoi 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 within 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. Br 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 Accept the lay — the soft melodious numbers, Vouchsafed by Nature to my parting breath, The gentle prelude to unbroken slumbers — The symphony of death. I go, no more to breathe among the mountains The ambrosial fragrance, which the wild flowers fling, I go, no more beneath the woodland fountains To wet my snowy wing. NATURAL HISTORY 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. 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 page 163.) It is expected now, that your Dog has acquired spirit, and keenness for game, and the several day’s hunt have produced habits of industry. The next thing, then, to encounter, is, that when he is approaching game, he may show a disposition to rush in, and flush it from before the other Dogs, while at a stand; or, if you are hunting him alone, before you are sufficiently near to get a shot, you must, of course, check this disposition immediately, but with great prudence. This is the most important point to be experienced, during the whole season of training; and it often happens, at this period, that many valuable young Dogs are ruined forever. Great care and patience are abso- lutely necessary in the tutor; and much severity towards the young Dog, at this time, is seldom, if ever, attended with good, but, nine times out of ten, much evil. And the plan, adopted by some men, of shooting their Dogs, when thus keen after game, is, to say the least, absurd and cruel; and it is next to a miracle, if, after this treatment, a Dog is not utterly ruined. I have seen young Dogs of the finest promise, ruined in this way, because in error, or over-zeal, they flushed the game, and were shot in a most cruel man- ner, by an unfeeling master, while the poor animal, with blood streaming from his fifty wounds, would cry most piteously, and with looks of reproach seemed to say, “ Is this the reward of my faithfulness? Are the errors com- mitted in an over-zeal to serve you, to be punished with death-like cruelty? Or, is it because I have been created subservient to your pleasures, that you load me with sor- row and distress?” — I hope to see this inhuman punish- ment of the poor Dog entirely abolished : at any rate, sports- men should discard it from their practice. There is but one instance in which humanity will admit of this punish- AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 187 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. The effect 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 difficulty 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 in 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 sharply, “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 ; 188 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 suffered 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 the 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 lie down 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 thetendency to keephim out of sight, and no persuasion what- ever will bring him 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, andwith these words 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 intheadjoin- ingfield, and crosses the fence, todrawupon 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, kicking him in the sides, striking him over the head, punching him with the butt ofyourgun, pulling him by the ears, or throwing any missiles at him; a training whip should be provided, and always used. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 189 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 s 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 either 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, flustering, 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 aDog 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 training them, if these bad habits are preserved in the Dogs, but a Dog may and oyght 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 offences, 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 which belongs to another. To break a Dog of this disposition, I would recommend that the owner, get some 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 offender 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 off; 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 190 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY Dog in a state of idleness; but two meals are necessary dur- ing the hunting season; and at all times, a constant supply of good, clear, and cold water, if possible, should be placed 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 to hunt, and should be avoided. To keep a Dog in proper trim, he should have plenty of exercise, but especially be- fore the shooting season commences; and every gentleman who rides in the afternoon should give his Dog a good run to the country; this gives him an opportunity to eat grass, and hardens him to fatigue, and disrobes him of superfluous 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 within 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 should have a good kennel provided for his comfort, and on no account be permitted to enter the dwelling. This prac- tice should be deprecated; what is more unpleasant than to 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 trouble and expense of keeping him. I shall hereafter treat on the diseases of Dogs, their treatment, and on the principles of shooting. I. growing near the edge of the water, from which proceeded a most singular noise, accompanied by a considerable splash- ing of the water; unable, on my first approach, to discover 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 first discovered them, I suppose they must have just com- menced. For a considerable length of time, neither par- ty appeared to gain advantage — their muscular actions were violent in the extreme and appeared to engage in deadly strife. Whenever the eel succeeded in drawing its antago- 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- ponderate, according as each succeeded in getting this ad- vantage of its adversary — the eel appeared to lose that pow- erful energy, when rolling in the dirt, which belongs to it in its native element, and, it was as sensible as the snake 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- nessed, I have communicated it for insertion in your va- luable work. T. M. July 6th, 1831. BATTLE BETWEEN A SNAKE AND AN EEL. AN ENCOUNTER WITH WOLVES. Messrs Editors, The Deer in the vicinity of the prairies, of which I have been speaking, are very large. Some of them weigh from While I was walking, a few days since, along the bank 150 to 200 pounds. Wild Turkeys too, are here numerous of a shaded creek, a few miles from Philadelphia, my and they sometimes weigh from 20 to 30 pounds. But attention was attracted towards some weeds that were facts like these unduly affect 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 insufferable 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 mastiff. 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 to, 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. 192 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 tilled 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, twenty-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 evfer 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 that 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, maugre the welfare of the “ woolly people.” We, ofcourse, quarrel with noman’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. 193 AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. AMERICAN ARGALI. OVIS MONTANA. [Plate XVII. Male and Female.] White Buffalo. — Mackenzie, Voyages. Mountain Barn . M‘Gillivray. — New York Med. Repos, vol. vi. Bis; Horn. — Lewis and Clark. Ovis Montana. — Desma- REST,Mamm. Cuvier, Reg. an. Richardson, Faun. am. bor. Ovis Ammon. — 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 by 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 the 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 difference 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 formerly 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 the 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 194 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 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 enemy, 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 sjteepest 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 the 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 Biography. 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 ch'eese 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 dryness 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. 195 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. <4^, 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 beerwfollowed by many recent naturalists. To bring the whole matter before our readers, we will, therefore, give a short sketch of each of the 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 backwards, 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, thoughMthe 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. They 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, [O. murimon ,) 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 by 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 very 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 shedp 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 York, 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 Jinnales 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 London,) contained in Richardson’s fauna. It may be well to mention, that the figures in Griffith’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, though 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 difficulty 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 difficulty. 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. 197" No. 1. No. 2. Notes of a Naturalist. By Jacob Green, M. D. INDIAN ANTIQUITIES. In the early part of June (1831,) 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 being- 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 offering 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 198 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 werenot 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 very curiously wrought instruments of stone, 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, they 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 Mr. 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, w7ho 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 coffin 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, will 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 Mexican hog, cut off 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 Muskingum, the Scioto, the Miami, the Ohio, the Cumberland, and the Mississippi, 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 difference in the distances at which they can discover their prey: the lion springs only a few yards, while 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 thd 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 hornj? 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 exuviae, 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 the 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-yellow. 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 one 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 cliffs 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 are 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 them. When the old ones are at the nest, the boldest fowler dares not approach it, as one flap of the AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 201 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 broQd 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 off, and the mother climbed the hitherto 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 w7as the balmy air with laughter, whistle, and song. But the treegnomens threw 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 3 E of the parish, stooped down, and away with something 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 essaying 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, but 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 stump of an ash jutting out of a cliff, 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 fresh 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 dizzy, 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 off from the crumbling rock. Her eye, by some secret sympathy of her soul with the inanimate object, watched its fall ; and it seemed to stop, not far off 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 pieee 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 twas 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 eyrie, 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 Cliff. Many were now attempting it, and ere the cautious mother had followed her dumb guides a hundred yards 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 — O tell me if I’m wauken, or if a’ this be the wark o’ a fever, and the delirium o’ a dream V ” 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 Mont 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 effec- 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 hy Ornithologists, descriptive of particular parts. A — Auricttlars, — 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, [tectrices primse, 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. GO — 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- daries, Lin.] those that rise from the second bone. HH — 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. Iris, (plural irides) the part which surrounds the pupil of the eye. Mandibles, — the upper and under parts of the bill. Compressed, — 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, [ orbita , 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. Vibrissse, (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. Vibrissse pectinatse, (Lin.) as in the Whip-poor-will. 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, [lorum, 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, [pinnatus, Lin.] as in the feet of Coots. Fes lobatus, (Lin.) Toes furnished on the sides with broad plain membranes, as in the feet of the Grebe. Web-footed, — where the toes are connected by webs, as in Ducks. Semi-palmated, [semi-palm atus, 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. Bewick . 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 per hour. per second* 1 1.47 2 2.937 3 4.40 5 4 5.877 5 . .. 7.33 5 10 15 20 , .. 29.34 7 25 . .. 36.675 30 35 51.34 40 • 58.88 45 66.01 50 73.35 60 88.02 Light airs. Breeze. Brisk gale. Fresh gale. Strong gale. ^ Hard gale. £ Storm. 80 100 117 36? hurricanes tearing up trees, over- ,,r'7n r turning buildings, and almost every A Mother obstacle. AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 205 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 my 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 3 F nearly invisible, and at length it entirely 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 l ease they scatter destruction over a con- siderable extent of country. France, particularly in the south, has often suffered from their violence. In August 1823, 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 Marchefroy. 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- 2G6 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 water 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 is1' 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 cylinder, 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 finger, afterwards as thick as my arm, then as my leg, and at last as the 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.” Wright’s Bujfon. RAIL. RALLUS CARO LINUS. [Plate XVIII.] Soree, Catesb. i. 70. — Arct. Zool. p. 491, No. 409.— Little American Water Hen, Edw. 144. — Le Ral de Virginie , Buff. viii. 165. — Rallus Carolinus, Lin. Syst. p. 153, No. 5, ed. 10. — Gallinula Carolina, Lath. Ind. Orn.p. 771, No. 17. — J. Doughty’s Col- lection. Of 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 '! I \>l AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 207 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 with 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 into 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, crek, 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 cry,” 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 difficult 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, wThich 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 early 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 208 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 of Linnaeus, and the 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 numerous 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 outcry, and a reiterated kuk kuk 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- ing 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 differ in 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 tributary 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 early 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 strength 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 white 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, the breast pale brown, 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 Qrd, 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 1809, 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- 1 ed, with the like effect. In the autumn of 1811, 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 epilepsy. 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 Rallus 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. 21 pactness of the reed, and the 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 enemy, 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 youthful recollections ever to be effaced, while we 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; 212 THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY his, like Izaak’s to the angler, is the text book 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 howe: 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 speciallye 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 heavinge after his armes, as though he woulde helpe his shafte to flye, another wrythes, 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 water , 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 1828, by a few gentlemen, whose sole knowledge was the recollection 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 ^ with a bow about 18 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 off, 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^onger 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 Archery, 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 suffice, 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 inehes, 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 arrow 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: A O 5 I f J? A 3 □ 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 ca^e 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 1828, a silver arrow, was taken by 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 t^ie ^ast years’ prize, a silver bugle, ^ was again the successful competitor, and Q) 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 3 > 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 afford 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. Buffon 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 tyrant, 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; )*et, on scrutiny, the same demonstrations of joy will not take 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 occasionally 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. III. 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 how 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, frequently 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 terrorem 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 spiteful 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 implicitly 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, with 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 OP NATURAL HISTORY whether thf 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 opea 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. The 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 sine 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 (he 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 j best signs of health. [To be continued.] QUADRUPEDS. Or 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. 217 AMERICAN VARYING HARE. L EP US VIR GINMNUS. —Harlan. Varying Hare , Pennant Quad. Warden Descrip. U. S. v. p. 635. Lewis & Clarke, 2. p. 178. Lepus Vir- ginianus , 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 molar -*§• 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, u 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: