ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.—LONDON.

ILLUSTRATIVE ANECDOTES

OF THE

ANIMAL KINGDOM:

BY THE AUTHOR OF

PETER PARLEY'S TALES.

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

PRESS OF GEORGE C. RAND & CO.

CONTENTS.

ANECDOTES

OF THE

ANIMAL KINGDOM.

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

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

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GENERAL CLASSIFICATION OF THE ANIMAL KINGDOM

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VERTEBRATA.

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CLASS MAMMALIA.

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

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ORDER I.

BIMANA,

TWO-HANDED.

MAN.

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

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

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

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

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

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ORDER II.

QUADRUMANA,

FOUR-HANDED ANIMALS.

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

APES.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE BABOON.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MONKEYS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ORDER III.

CARNARIA,

BUTCHERING ANIMALS.

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

BATS.

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

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

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

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

HEDGEHOG.

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

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

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

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

THE MOLE.

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

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

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

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

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

THE BEAR.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE RACCOON.

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

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

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

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

THE COATI.

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

THE BADGER.

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

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

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

THE GLUTTON.

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

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

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

THE WEASEL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE POLECAT.

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

THE FERRET.

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

THE MINK.

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

THE MARTEN.

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

THE SABLE.

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

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

THE SKUNK.

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

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

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

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

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

THE OTTER.

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

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

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

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

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

THE DOG.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now I'm in the world alone,

Upon the wide, wide sea;

But why should I for others groan,

When none will sigh for me?

Perchance my dog will whine in vain,

Till fed by stranger hands;

But long ere I come back again,

He'd tear me where he stands."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Here never could the spearman pass,

Or forester, unmoved;

Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass

Llewellyn's sorrow proved.

And here he hung his horn and spear,

And oft, as evening fell,

In fancy's piercing sounds would hear

Poor Gelert's dying yell."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The firemen's dog? Why so? Has he no master?"

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

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

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

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

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

THE WOLF.

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

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

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

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

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