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BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 



WILLIAM BARTRAM. 



Jk a short biographical notice, like the present must 

 necessarily be, little more can be said of a man, than to 

 give the general outlines of character and the leading in- 

 cidents of his life. 



Of Mr. Bartram, the world, in times past, knew much, 

 for his fame extended to both continents; in his sphere, 

 he was one of the most eminent men of America; his 

 knowledge was acquired by incessant mental and bodily 

 labour; the fields of natural science in his early days were 

 unexplored, and he resorted to the study of nature where 

 she unfolds her works to the senses as the only true source 

 of knowledge, and it seems due to his eminence, to offer 

 a small tribute of respect in a biographical way, that his 

 example for temperance, application to the study of 

 science, perseverance, and the strict performance of his 

 social duties, should be given for the benefit and encourage- 

 ment of others. 



The accompanying portrait is a correct likeness of Mr. 

 Bartram, and the only engraved one ever given to the 

 American public. 



JOHN BARTRAM, (father to the subject of the pre- 

 sent biography,) was a celebrated and self-taught philoso- 

 pher and botanist, and was born near the village of Darby, 

 in Delaware county, Pennsylvania, in the year 1701. His 

 grandfather, John Bartram, and family, emigrated to 

 Pennsylvania from Derbyshire, in England, with some of 

 the adherents of William Penn, in 16S2. In very early 

 life he manifested much desire for knowledge, but the means 

 of education at that period in the colonies were not suffi- 

 cient to satisfy his thirst for knowledge, and being at so 

 great a distance from Europe, he had to content himself 

 with only a moderate education, and rely on the resources 

 of his own mind, and apply himself to books and the 

 society of literary and eminent men; the result was, that 

 he acquired a knowledge of other languages, and it is 

 said, that " so earnest was he in the pursuit of learning, 

 that he seldom sat at his meals without his book; often his 

 victuals in one hand and his book in the other," and by 

 I 



such indefatigable application he soon fitted himself for 

 the highest scale of society; he was bred a husbandman, 

 and while cultivating the grounds as means to support his 

 family, he prosecuted his avocations as a philosopher. The 

 vegetable kingdom, however, attracted most his attention, 

 and he applied himself with renewed vigour to the study 

 of botany. 



He was the first American who conceived and executed 

 the design of a botanic garden; this he located in a de- 

 lightful situation on the banks of the Schuylkill river, 

 about four miles from Philadelphia, on a spot which em- 

 braced a variety of soils and situations to the extent of six 

 or seven acres, and enriched it with a great variety of 

 indigenous and exotic plants; many of the former hav- 

 ing been collected by himself during his travels in various 

 parts from Canada to Florida. His progress in philoso- 

 phy, botany, and other branches of natural history, attract- 

 ed the notice and esteem of the principal literary and 

 eminent characters of America, and the correspondence 

 and friendship of many of those of Europe; in consequence 

 of which he was frequently employed in collecting what 

 was new and curious to furnish and ornament many of the 

 European gardens with the productions of the new world, 

 and he was at last appointed American Botanist to George 

 the Third, in which appointment he continued until his 

 death, in September, 1777, in the 76th year of his age. 



He left several children. John, (the fifth son,) succeed- 

 ed him as proprietor of the Kingsess botanic garden, which, 

 after his death, in 1812, was inherited by his daughter, 

 Mrs. Carr, wife of Col. Robert Carr, in whose possession 

 it still remains. 



WILLIAM BARTRAM, known as a traveller and 

 a botanist, was the fourth son of John Bartram, and 

 was born April the 9th, 1739, at the botanic garden, 

 Kingsessing township, near Philadelphia. 



His education was a moderate one, and nothing remark- 

 able appeared in his character during the early part of his 

 youth, which was chiefly spentin agricultural pursuits; this. 




BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 



however, he soon relinquish eJ to serve an apprenticeship 

 to a respectable merchant of Philadelphia, and at the age 

 of 22 he went to Wilmington, N. C, with the view of 

 entering into the mercantile business, but being ardently 

 attached to the study of botany, he left that place in about 

 four years, and accompanied his father on a journey into 

 East Plorida, to explore the natural production of that 

 country; and it was ( uring this period he discovered the 

 Franklinia, a beautiful tree, so called in honour of Dr. 

 Franklin. After this he settled on the River St. Johns, 

 in the same territory, and commenced th? cultivation of 

 indigo, but soon abandoned it in consequence of bad health, 

 and returned in the year 1771 to his father's residence. 



The information acquired by his travels and researches 

 now began to bring him to the notice of the eminent and 

 learned men of both America and England, and at the so- 

 licitations and expense of Dr. Fothergill, of London, he 

 made excursions to the Florida? and the western parts of 

 Carolina and Georgia, in search of rare and useful produc- 

 tions of nature, but chieflj' of the vegetable kingdom, to 

 which gentleman he sent his collection of plants, dried 

 specimens, iii:d drawings. 



From a diary kept by him during these travels he was 

 enabled to furnish tlie world with a large volume of the 

 most interesting and useful information, chiefly relating to 

 the comparatively unexplored parts of those inhospitable 

 regions, through which, at that early period, the traveller 



seldom bent his way merely for the love of science and 

 the studies of nature. 



This work was published in three countries about the 

 year 1791 to 1793, viz: in Germany, Ireland, (Dublin, Jand 

 the United States, in an octavo form of up wards of 500 pages. 



Mr. Bartram set sail on his intended journey from Phi- 

 ladelphia in April, 1773, in the brig Charleston Packet, 

 for Charleston, where he arrived after a very tedious and 

 stormy passage of eleven days from the Capes; here he re- 

 mained a few days, and gained the friendship of many of 

 the most wealthy and respectable families, when he de- 

 parted for Savannah on his intended expedition. 



At this period Georgia and the Floridas were inhabited, 

 and, indeed, overrun with different tnbes of Indians; 

 many of whom were exceedingly hostile to the whites — 

 from this circumstance, as well as the nai.'ire of the coun- 

 try, the miserable roads, and other difficulties in travelling, 

 it became extremely unpleasant, and, at times, hazardous 

 for Mr. Bartram to prosecute his journey; but his expe- 

 rience had prepared him for hardships, and, being of a 

 humane and amiable disposition, he went forward in tiie 

 confidence that others felt toward him, as he felt toward 

 all mankind — while these benevolent feelings wf.re fre- 

 quently manifested in his countenance and demeanour, 

 and on several occasions worked safety for him when ex- 

 treme danger was at hand.(l) 



In all his travels, Mr. Bartram singul.irly adhered to the 



(1) I arrWed at St. lUe's in tlie evening, wliere I lodged; and next 

 morning, Laving crossed over in a ferry-boat, set forward for St. Mary's. 

 The situation of the territory, its soil and prodnctions, beixeen these 

 two last rivers, nre nearly similar to those which I had passed over, 

 e.<:ept that the savannahs are moi'e fieouent and extensive. 



It may be proper to observe, that 1 iiad now passed the utmost .''ren- 

 tier of the white settlements on that border, it was drawing on to- 

 wards the close of day, the sties ;;crene and calm, the air temper.<ite- 

 ly cool, and gentle zephyrs breatliing tlirough the fragrant pine; llje 

 prospect around enchantiugly varied and beautiful; endless green 

 savannahs, chequered with coppices of fragrant shrulis, filled the air 

 with the richest perfume. The jaily attired plants which enamelled 

 the green had begun to imbibe the pearly dew of evening; nature ■ 

 seemed silent, and nothing cppsared to rufiBe the. happy moments 

 of evening contemplation; when, on a sudden, an Indian appeared" 

 crossing the path, at a considerable distance bi-fore me. On per- 

 ceiving that he was armed witU a rifle, the first sight of him 

 stanled me, and I endeavpured to elude his sight, by stopping my 

 ^ce, and keeping large trees between us; but he espied me, and 

 turning thorl about, set spurs to his horse, and came up on full 

 gallop. I never before this was afraid at the sight o.*' an Indian, 

 but at this time, I must own that my spirits were much agitated: 

 i saw at one., that being unarmed, I was in his power; and hav- 

 ing now but a few moments to prepare, I resigned myself entirely 

 to the will of the Alm'ghty, trusting to his mercies for my pre- 

 servation: my mind then became tranquil, and I resolved to meet 

 the dreaded foe wiih rfitoli.lion and cheerful confidence. The in- 



trepid Siminole stopped suddenly, three or four yards before me, 

 and silc;ntly viewed me, his countenance angi'y and fleroe, shifting 

 his rifle from shoulder to .shoulder, and looking about instantly on 

 all sides. I ulvanced towards him, and with an air of confidence 

 offered him my hand, hailing him, brother; at this he hastily jerked 

 bark his arm, with a look of malice, rage, and disdain, seeming every 

 way discontented; when again looking at me more attentively, he in- 

 stantly spurted up to trie, and with dignity in his look and action, 

 gave me his hand. l>oss.ibly the silent language of his soul, during 

 the moment of suspense, (for I believe his design was to kill me 

 when he first c.\me up,) was after this manner; " White man, thou 

 art my enemy, and thou and thy brethren may have killed mine; yet 

 it may not be so, and even were that the case, thou art now alone, 

 and in my power. Live; the great Spirit forbids me to touch thy life; 

 go to thy brethren, tell them thou sawest an Indian in the forests, 

 who knew how to be humane and compassionate." In fine, we shook 

 hands, and parted in a friendly manner, in the midst of & dreary wil- 

 derness; and he informed me of the course and distance to the trad- 

 ing-house, where I found he had been extremely ill treated the day 

 before. • 



I now SKt forward again, and after eight or ten miles riding, arrived 

 at the banks of St. Mary's, opposite the stores, and got safe over be- 

 fore dark. The river is here about one hundred yards across, has 

 ten feet water, and., following its course, aboul^ixty miles to the sea, 

 though but about t» enty miles by land. The li-.iding company here 

 received and treated me with great civility. On relating jnj' adven- 

 tures on the road, particularly the last with the Indian, the chief re- 




WILLIAM BARTRAM. 



objects of his search, not only in noticing the more com- 

 mon, but scrutinizing every plant which appeared new to 

 him, or would be rare to others interested in the botanical 

 kingdom. His researches, as before stated, attracted the 

 notice of some of the chief men of London, among whom 

 was Sir Joseph Banks, President of the Royal Society; 

 this nobleman, (whether for himself or the Society over 

 which he presided, is not precisely known,) wishing to 

 avail himself of the services of our traveller, offered him 

 one shilling sterling for every new plant which he might 

 discover in these southern districts, which offer drew 

 the following laconic answer: 



" William Bartram, in answer to Joseph Banks' propo- 

 sal, says, that there are not over five hundred species of 

 plants altogether in the provinces of Virginia, North 

 Carolina, South Carolina, West and East Florida, and 

 Georgia, which, at one shilling each, amounts only to 

 £25 — supposing every thing acceptable. It has taken 

 him two years to search only part of the two last pro- 

 vinces, and finds by experience it cannot be done with to- 

 lerable conveniency for less than £100 a year, therefore 

 it cannot reasonably be expected that he can accept 

 the offer." 



Mr.Bartram was occupied five years in these researches, 

 during which period he discovered a large number of 

 new plants, and contributed most extensive information 

 relative to the natural history of the country; he was the 

 first American ornithologist, and his table of birds was re- 

 garded as the only correct list extant, in which two hun- 

 dred and fifteen different species are enumerated; this 

 table is to be found in his work, page 2S5, of the Dublin 

 edition. 



After his return home, he devoted himself still more 

 closely to science; and in April, 17S2, he was elected 

 Professor of Botany in the University of Pennsylvania, 

 but declined serving in consequence of the impaired state 

 of his health; he was also elected a member of several 

 other scientific institutions in the city of Philadelphia. 



In 1776, just at the commencement of the Revolutionary 

 War, and while on his return from Florida to Georgia, 

 Mr. Bartram volunteered and joined a detachment of 

 men, raised by Gen. Lochlan Mcintosh, to repel a sup- 

 posed invasion of that state from St. Augustine by the 

 British; he was offered a lieutenant's commission if he 

 would remain, but the report which led him to volunteer 

 his services having proved false, the detachment was dis- 

 banded, and Mr. Bartram resumed his travels. Mr. Bar- 

 tram possessed a full share of republican principles, which 

 were imbibed at a very early age, the first impressions 

 being given when at school by his tutor, Charles Thomson, 

 afterwards Secretary to Congress during the revolution; 

 and Mr. Bartram was frequently heard to say, how care- 

 ful Mr. Thomson was, on every possible occasion, to instil 

 republican principles into the minds of his youthful 

 pupils. 



As a writer, Mr. Bartram, at times, was graphic, and 

 generally delineated things as he saw them, although here 

 and there some extravagant or enthusiastic remarks accom- 

 pany his descriptions, yet, upon the whole, he was easy, 

 intelligent, and instructive; he was often placed in unplea- 

 sant and sometimes perilous circumstances during his 

 travels; and his account of the alligators and frequent en- 

 counters with them, cannot be read without the most 

 thrilling interest.(2) Indeed, so powerful were the impres- 



plied, with a countenance that at once bespoke surprise and pleasure, 

 " My friend, consider yourself a fortunate man: ' tliat fellow,' said he, 

 ♦is one of the greatest villains on earth, a noted murderer, and out- 

 lawed by his countrymen. Last evening he was here, we took his 

 gun from him, broke it in pieces, and gave him a severe drubbing; he, 

 however, made his escape, carrying off a new rifle gun, with which, 

 he said, going off, he would kill the first white man he met.' " 



On seriously contemplating the behaviour of this Indian towards me, 

 so soon after his ill treatment, the following train of sentiments insen- 

 sibly crowded in upon my mind: 



Can it be denied, but that the moral principle, which directs the 

 savages to virtuous and praiseworthy actions, is natural or innate' It 

 is certain they have not the assistance of letters, or those means of 

 education in the schools of philosophy, where the virtuous sentiments 

 and actions of the most illustrious characters are recorded, and care- 

 fully laid before the youth of civilized nations: therefore this moral 

 principle must be innate, or they must be under the immediate influ- 

 ence and guidance of a more divine and powerful preceptor, who, on 

 these occasions, instantly inspires them, and, as with a ray of divine 

 light, points out to them at once the dignity, propriety, and beauty of 

 virtue. 



(2) The evening was temperately cool and calm. The crocodiles 

 began to roar and appear in uncommon numbers along the shores 

 and in the river. I fixed my camp in an open plain, near the 

 utmost projection of the promontory, under the shelter of a large 

 live oak, which stood on the highest part of the ground, and but 

 a few yards from my boat. From this open, high situation, I had 

 a free prospect of the river, which was a matter of no trivial con- 

 sideration to me, having good reason to dread the subtle attacks 

 of the alligators, who were crowding about my harbour. Having 

 collected a good quantity of wood for the purpose of keeping up 

 a light and smoke during the night, I began to think of preparing 

 my supper, when, upon examining my stores, I found but a scanty 

 provision. I thereupon determined, as the most expeditious v.-ay 

 of supplying my necessities, to take my bob and try for some trout. 

 About one hundred yards above my harbour began a cove or bay 

 of the river, out of which opened a large lagoon, "he mouth or 

 entrance from the river to it was narrow, but the waters soon af- 

 terwards spread and formed a little lake, extend'ng into the 

 marshes: its entrance and shores within I observed to be verged 

 with floating lawns of the pistia and nymphea, and tther aquatic 

 plants; these I knew were excellent haunts for trout. 




BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 



sioi,s left on Mr. Bartram by these unpleasant occur- 

 rfcnces, that he never could entirely divest himself of 

 them, and years after they had passed, he was heard to 

 say, that he was often startled from his sleep by violent 

 auH hideous dreams of his encounters with these mon- 



The difficulties under which the lamented Wilson la- 

 boured, in the commencement and progress of his work, 

 were, at times, almost insurmountable, and had nigh ter- 

 minated his labours in the cause of tsmithology; but in 

 Mr. Bartram he found a friend, an unJeviating friend, oa 

 whose counsel and guidance he always relied with filial 



The verges and islets of tlie hgooii were elegantly embeiiislied 

 wi:h fiowerinf plants «nJ shiubs; the laughing coots with wings 

 baJf spread were Uipping over the litlle coveg and hiding them- 

 selve* in the tufls of gra»s; young broods of the painted summer 

 teal, skirtiming the still smrfare of ilie waters, and following the 

 watchful parent unconscious of danger, were frequently surprised 

 by the voracious trout; and he, in turn, as often by tlie subtle 

 greedy alligator. Behold him rushing forth from the flags and 

 reeds. His enormous body swells. His plaited tail brandished 

 high, floats upon the lake. Tire waters like ;> cataract descend 

 from his opening jaws. Clouds of smoke issue from his dilsLed 

 nostrils. The earth trembles with his thunder. When immediate- 

 ly from the opposite coast of the lagoon, emerges from the deep 

 his rival champion. They suddenly dart upon each other. The 

 boiling surface of the lake marks their rapid course, and a terrific 

 conaict commences. They now sink to the bottom folded together 

 in horrid wreathes. The water b.-conies thick and discoloured. 

 Again they rise, their jaws clap together, re-echoing through the 

 deep surrounding forests. .4gain they sink, when the contest ends 

 at the muddy bottom of the lake, and the vanquished makes a 

 hazardous escape, hiding himself in the muddy turbulent waters 

 and sedge on a distant shore. The proud victor e.\ulting returns 

 to the place of action. The shores and forests resound his drea;!- 

 ful roar, together with the triumphing shouts of these plaited 

 tribes around, witnesses of tho horrid combat. 



My apprehensions weie highly alSrtned after being a spectator of so 

 dreadful a battle. It was obvious that every delay would but tend to 

 increase my dangers and difticull'ek, as the sun was near setting, and 

 the alligators gathered around my harbour from all quarters. From 

 these con-sideralions 1 concluded to be expeditious in my trip to the 

 lagoon, in urder to take some fish. Not think! r.g it prudent to take my 

 tusee wilf4 me, lest I might lose it overboard in case of a battle, which ( 

 had ever) reason to dread before my return, I therefore furnished my- 

 self wit, .. club for my defence, went on board, and penetrating the 

 first line of those which surrounded my harbour, they gave way; but 

 being pursued by several very large ones, I kept strictly on the watch, 

 and paddled with all my might towards the entrance of the lagoon, 

 iioping- to be sheltered liiere from the multitude of my assailants; but 

 ere I had half way reached the place, I was attacked on .til sides, seve- 

 ral endeavouring to overset the canoe. My situation now became 

 precarious to the last degree: two vei7 large ones attacked me close- 

 ^ iy, at the snme inscant, rushing up with their heads and part of their 

 bodies ii'jove the water, roaring terribly and belching floods of water 

 overme. They struck their jaws together so close to my ears, as al- 

 most to stun me, and I expected every moment to be dragged out of 

 (he boat and instantly devoured. But I applied my weapons so effectual- 

 ly about me, though at randoT>,that 1 was so successful as to beat them 

 off a little; w len, finding that they designed to renew the battle, I 

 made for the shore, as the only means left me for my preservation; for, 

 by keeping cose to it, I should have my enemies on one side only, 

 whereas 1 was before surrounded by ihem ; and there was a probability, 

 if pushed to the last e.«remity, of saving myself, by jumping outof the 

 canoe on shore, as it is easy to outwalk them on land, although compa- 



ratively as swift as lightning in the water. I found this last expedient 

 alone could folly answer my expectations, tor as soon as [ gained the 

 siiore, they drew oft" and kept aloof. 1 his was a happy relief, as my 

 confidence was, in some degree, recovered by it. On recollec'.ing :fiy- 

 self, I discovered that I had almost reached the entrance of the lagoon, 

 and determined to veture in, if passible, to take a few fish, and then re- 

 turn to my harbour, while day-light continued: for I could now, with 

 caution and resolution, make my way with safety along shore; and, in- 

 deed, there was no other way to regain my camp, without leaving my 

 boat and making my retreat through the mat.hes and reeds, which, if I 

 coii,ld even effect, would have been in a .nanuer throwing nv.self away, 

 for then there would have been no hopes of ever recovering my b^rk, 

 and returning in safety to aiW settlements of men. I accordingly pro- 

 ceeded, and made good my Entrance into the lagoon, though not with- 

 out opposition from the alligators, who formed a line across the en- 

 trance, but did not pursue me into it, nor was I molested by any there, 

 though there were some very large ones in a cove at the upperend. I 

 soon caught more trout than I had present occasion for, and the air was 

 too hot and sultry to admit of their being kept for many hours, even 

 though salted or barbecued. I now prepared for my return to camp, 

 which [succeeded in with but little trouble, by keeping close to the 

 shore; yet f was opposed upon re-entering the river out of the lagoon, 

 and pursued near to my landing, (though not closely attacked,) parti- 

 cularly by an old daring one, about twelve feet in length, who kept 

 close after me; and when I stepped on shore, and turned about, 

 in order to draw up my canoe, he rushed up near my feet, and lay 

 there for some time, looking me in the face, his head and shoul- 

 ders out of water, f resolved he should pay lor his temerity, and 

 having a heavy load in my fusee, I ran to my camp, and rt-turnmg 

 with my piece, found him with his foot on the gunwale of the boat, 

 in search of fish. On my coming up he withdrew sullenly and slowly 

 into the water, but soon returned and placed himself in his for- 

 mer position, looking at me, and seeming neither fearful nor any 

 way disturbed, i soon despatched him by lodging the contents (if 

 my gun in his head, and then proceeded to cleanse and prepare 

 my fish for supper; and accordingly took tl\em out of the boat, laid 

 them down on the sand close to the water, and began lo .icale them; 

 when, raising my head, I saw before me, through the clear water, the 

 bead and shouldtrs of a very large alligator, nio^'mg slowly towards 

 me. t instantly .stepped back, when, with a sweep of his tail, he 

 brushed off several of my fish. It was certainly most providential 

 that 1 looked up at that instant, as the monster would, probabl>, in 

 less than a minute, have seized and dragged me into the river. This 

 Incredible boldnes.i of the animal disturbed me greatly, supposing 

 there could now be no reasonable safety for me during the night, but 

 by keeping continually on the watch: I therefore, as soon as I had pre- 

 pared the fislV, proceeded to secure myself and effects in the best 

 manner f could. In the first place, I hauled my balk upon the shore, 

 almost clear out of the water, to prevent their oversetting or sinking 

 her; after this, every movable was taken out and carried to my camp, 

 which was but a few yards off; then ranging some dry wood in such 

 order as was the most convenient, I cleared the ground round .'ibout 

 it, that there might iie no impediment in my way, in case of aniittack 




WILLIAM BARTRAM. 



piety. It was through theencouragementand assistance ren- 

 dered by Mr. Bartram, that Wilson commenced and com- 

 pleted his splendid work on ornithology; and by his con- 

 stant visits to the rural and delightful grounds of the bo- 

 tanic garden, he first conceived the plan of forming the 

 work; he there also became enamoured of the study, and 



acquainted with a large number of birds figured in his 

 work; how often in his writings does he allude to his friend, 

 William Bartram, and this enchanting spot, so congenial 

 with his feelings! In a letter to Mr. Bartram on the sub- 

 ject, W^ilson says: 



"I send you afew more imitations of birds for your opinion 



in the night, either from the water or the land; for I discovered by 

 this time, that this small isthmus, from its remote situation and fruit- 

 fulness, was resorted to by bears and wolves. Having prepared my- 

 self in the best manner I could, I charged my gun and proceeded to 

 reconnoitre my camp and the adjacent grounds; when I discovered 

 that the peninsula and grove, at the distance of about two hundred 

 yards from my encampment, on the land side, were invested by a 

 cypress swamp, covered with water, which below was joined to the 

 shore of the little lake, and above to the marshes surrounding the 

 lagoon; so that I was confined to an islet exceedingly circumscribed, 

 and I found there was no other retreat for me, in case of an attack, 

 but by either ascending one of the large oaks, or pushing off with my 

 boat. 



It was by this time dusk, and the alligators had nearly ceased their 

 roar, when I was again alarmed by a tumultuous noise that seemed to 

 be in my harbour, and therefore engaged my immediate attention. 

 Returning to my camp I found it undisturbed, and then continued on 

 to the extreme point of the promontory, where I saw a scene, new 

 and surprising, which at first threw my senses into such a tumult, 

 that it was some time before 1 could comprehend what was the mat- 

 ter; however, I soon accounted for the prodigious assemblage of 

 crocodiles at this place, which exceeded every thing of the kind I 

 had ever heard of. 



How shall I express myself so as to convey an adequate idea of it 

 to the reader, and at the same time avoid raising suspicions of my 

 veracity! Should I say, that the river (in this place) from sliore to 

 shore, and perhaps near half a mile above and below me, appeared 

 to be one solid bank of fish, of various kinds, pushing through this 

 narrow pass of St. .luan's into the little lake, on their return down 

 the river, and that the alligators were in such incredible numbers, 

 and so close together from shore to shore, that it would have been 

 easy to have walked across on their heads, had the animals been 

 harmless' What expressions can sufficiently declare the shocking 

 scene that for some minutes continued, whilst this mighty army of 

 iish were forcing the pass? During this attempt, thousands, I may 

 say hundreds of thousands of them were caught and swallowed by 

 the devouring alligators. I have seen an alligator take up out of the 

 water several great fish at a time, and just squeeze them betwixt 

 his jaws, while the tails of the great trout flapped about his eyes and 

 lips, ere he had swallowed them. The. horrid noise of their closing 

 jaws, their plunging amidst the broken banks of fish, and rising with 

 their prey some feet upright above the water, the floods of water and 

 blood rushing out of their mouths, and the clouds of vapour issuing 

 from their wide nostrils, were truly frightful. This scene continued 

 at intervals during the night, as the fish came to the pass. After this 

 fight, shocking and tremendous as it was, I found myself somewhat 

 easier and more reconciled to my situation; being convinced that their 

 extraordinary assemblage here was owing to this annual feast of fish; 

 and that they were so well employed in their own element, that I had 

 little occasion to fear their paying me a visit. 



It being now almost night, I returned to my camp, where I had 



left my fish broiling, and my kettle of rice stewing; and having with 



me oil, pepper and salt, and excellent oranges hanging in abundance 



2 



over my head, (a valuable substitute for vinegar,) I sat down and re- 

 galed myself cheerfully. Having finished my repast, I rekindled my 

 fire for light, and whilst I was revising the notes of my past day's 

 journey, 1 was suddenly roused with a noise behind me toward the 

 main land. I sprang up on my feet, and listening, I distinctly heard 

 some creature wading in the water of the isthmus. I seized my gun, 

 and went cautiously from my camp, directing my steps towards the 

 noise: when I had advanced about thirty yards, I halted behind a cop- 

 pice of orange trees, and soon perceived two very large bears, which 

 had made their way through the water, and had landed in the grove, 

 about one hundred yards distance from me, and were advancing to- 

 wards me. I waited until they were within thirty yards of me: they 

 there began to snuff and look towards my camp: I snapped my piece, 

 butit flashed, on which they both turnedaboutandgalloppedoff.plung- 

 ing through the water and swamp, never halting, as I suppose, until 

 they reached fast land, asl could hear them leaping and plunging a long 

 time. They did not presume to return ag.ain, nor was I molested by 

 any other creature, except being occasionally awakened by the whoop- 

 U.^ of owls, screaming of bitterns, or the wood-rats running amongst 

 the leaves. 



The noise of the crocodiles kept me awake the greater part of the 

 night; but when I arose in the morning, contrary to my expectations 

 there was perfect peace; very few of them to be seen, and those were 

 asleep on the shore. Yet I was not able to suppress my fears and ap- 

 prehensions of being attacked by them in future; and, indeed, yester- 

 d.iy's combat with them, notwithstanding I came off in a manner vic- 

 torious, or at least made a safe retreat, had left sufficient impression 

 on my mind to damp my courage; and it seemed too much for one of 

 my strength, being alone in a very small boat, to encounter such col- 

 lected danger. To pursue my voyage up the river, and be obliged 

 every evening to pass sucli dangerous defiles, appeared to me as pe- 

 rilous as running the gauntlet betwixt two rows of Indians armed 

 with knives and firebrands. I however resolved to continue my 

 voyage one day longer, if I possibly could with safety, and then re- 

 turn down the river, should 1 find the like difficulties to oppose. 

 Accordingly I got every thing on board, charged my gun, and set 

 sail cautiously, along shore. As I passed by Battle lagoon, I began 

 to tremble and keep a good look out; when suddenly a huge alli- 

 gator rushed out of the reeds, and with a tremendous roar came 

 up, and darted as swift as an arrow under my boat, emerging up- 

 right on my lee quarter, with open jaws, and belching water and 

 smoke that fell upon me like rain in a hurricane. I Laid soundly 

 about his head with my club and beat him off; and after plunging 

 and darting about my boat, he went off on a straight line through 

 the water, seemingly with the rapidity of lightning, and entered 

 the cape of the lagoon. I now employed my time to the very best 

 advantage in paddling close along shore, but could not forbear look- 

 ing now and then behind me, and presently perceived one of them 

 coming up again. The water of the river hereabouts was shoal and 

 very clear: the monster came up with the usu.il roar and menaces, 

 and passed close by the side of my boat, when I could distinctly see 

 a young brood of alligators, to the number of one hundred or more, 

 following after her in a long train. They kept close together in a 




BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 



nnd correction, wliich I value beyond those of any body 

 nlse, although I am seriously apprehensive that I am trou- 

 blesome; these are the last I shall draw for some time, as 

 it consumes every leisure moment I have, leaving nothing 

 for friendsiiij) or the rural recreations I so much delight 

 in." 



On another occasion the same writer again addresses Mr. 

 Bartram: 



" The receipt of yours, of the lUh inst., (April, 1807,) 



in which you approve of my intended publication of Ame- 

 rican Ornithology, gave me much satisfaction; and your 

 promise of befriending me in the arduous attempt com- 

 mands my unfeigned gratitude. From the opportunities 

 I have lately had of examining into the works of Ameri- 

 cans who have treated of this part of our natural history, 1 

 am satisfied that none of them have bestowed sucli^nute 

 attention on the subject as you yourself have done. In- 

 deed, they have done little more than copied your no- 



•"olumn without straggling oft to the one side or the otiierj the young 

 ippeared to be ot an equal size, about fifteen inches in length, .ilitiost 

 ''ack, with pale yellow transverse waved clouds or blotches, much 

 like ra'.tlesnakcs in colour. 1 now lost sight of my enemy again. 



Still keeping close along shore, on turning a point or projection of 

 the river bank, at once 1 beheld a great number of hillocks or small 

 pyramids, resembling hay-cocks, ranged like an encampment along the 

 banks. They stood fifteen or tv/enty yards distant from the water, on 

 a. high marsh, about four feet perpendicular above the water. I knew 

 them to be the nesUof the crocodile, having had a description of them 

 before; and now expected a furious and general attack, as 1 saw several 

 large crocodiles swimming abreast of these buildings. These nests 

 being so great a curiosity tome, 1 was deternnlnedat all events imme- 

 diately to lard and examine them. Accordingly, I ran my bark on 

 shore at one of their landiugplaccs, which was a sort of nick or little 

 dock, from which ascended a sloping path or road up to the edge of the 

 meadow, where their nests were; most of them were deserted, and 

 the great thick whitish egg-shells lay broken and scattered upon the 

 ground round about them. 



The nests or hillocks are of the form of an obtuse cone, four feet 

 high and four or five feet in diameter at their bases; tliey are con- 

 structed with mud, grass, and lierbage. At first they lay a floor of 

 •his kind of tempered mortar on the ground, upon which they depo- 

 sit a layer of eggs, and upon this a stratum of mortar, seven or eight 

 inches in thickness, and then another layer of eggs, and in this man- 

 ner one stratum upon another, nearly to the top. 1 believe they 

 commonly lay from one to two hundred eggs in a nest: these are 

 hatched, 1 suppose, by the heat of the sun; and perhaps the vegeta- 

 ble substances :vixed with tlie earth, being acted upon by the sun, 

 may cause a small degree of fermentation, ,^nd so Increase the heat in 

 those hillocks. The ground for several acres about these nests show- 

 ed evident marks of a continual resort of alligators; the grass was 

 very where beaten down, hardly a blade or straw was left standing ; 

 .vhereas.all about, at a distance, it was five or six feet high, and as 

 iliick as it could grow together. The f. mrde, as t imagli.e, carefully 

 watches her own nest of eggs until tlity are sll hatched; or perhaps 

 while she is attending her own brood, she t.ikes under her care and 

 protection as many as she can get at one time, either from her own 

 particular nest or others; but certain it is, that the young are not left 

 10 shift for themselves; for I have had frequent opportunities of see- 

 ing, the female alligator leading about the shores her train of young 

 ones, just as a hen does her brood of chickens; and she is equally as- 

 siduous and courageous in defending the young, which are under her 

 care, and providing for their subsistence; and when she is basking 

 upon the warm b.iiiks, with her brood around her, you may hear the 

 young ones continually whining and barking, like young puppies. 1 

 believe but few of a brood live to the years of full growth and mag- 

 .litude, as the old t'ccd on the young as long m they can make prey 

 of them. 



The alligitor, when full grown, is a very large and terrible ciea- 

 ture, and of prodigious strengtli, ar.tivity, and swiftness in the w'ater. 

 1 have seen them twenty feet in length, and sonfte are supposed to be 

 twenty-two or twenty-three feel. Their body is asUi^e aa ih.it o! a 

 horse; their shape exactly resembles that of a lizr:! ,|, 



which is flat or cuneiform, being compressed on '■. <..- 



ally diminishing from the abdomen to the extreiTii; le 



whole body, is covered with horny plates or sq'.iiim^Ti^c/nr.pcnci.p.iile 

 when on the body of the live animal, even to a rifle-ball, except about 

 their head and just behind their fore legs or arms, where, it is said, 

 they are only vulnerable. The head of a full-grown one is about 

 three feet, and the mouth opens nearly the same length; their 

 eyes are small in proportion, and seem sunk deep in the head, by 

 means of the prominency of the brows; the nostrils are Large, inflated 

 and prominent on the top, so that the head in the water resembles, at 

 a distance, a great chunk of wood floating about. Only the upper 

 jaw moves, which they raise aljnost perpendicular, so as to form a 

 right angle with the lower one. In the fore-part of the upper jaw, 

 on each side, just under the nostrils, are two very large, thick, strong 

 teeth or tusks, not very sharp, but rather the shape of a cone: these 

 are as white as the finest polished ivory, and are not covered by any 

 skin or lips, and always in sight, which gives the creature a frightful 

 appearance: in the lower jaw are holes opposite to these teeth, to re- 

 ceive them: when they clap their jaws together it causes a surprising 

 noise, like that which is made by forcing a heavy plank with violence 

 upon the ground, and may be heard at a great distance. 



But what is yet more surprising to a stranger, is the incredible loud 

 and terrifying roar, which they are capable of making, especiully in 

 the spring season, their breeding time. It most resembles very heavy 

 distant thunder, not only shaking the air and waters, but causing the 

 earth to tremble; and when hundreds and thousands are roaring at the 

 same time, you can scarcely be persuaded, but that the whole globe Is 

 violently and dangerously agitated. 



An old champion, who is, perhaps, absolute sovereign of a little lake 

 or lagoon, (when fifty less than himself are obliged to content them- 

 selves with swelling and roaring in little coves round about,) dans 

 forth from the leedy coverts all at once, on the surface of the wivters, 

 in a right line; at first seemingly as rapid as lightning, but gradually 

 more slowly until he arrives at the centre of the lake, when he stops. 

 He now swells himself by drawing in wind .ind water through his 

 mouth, Avhich causes a loud sonorous rattling in the throat for near a 

 minute, but it is immediately forced out again through his ,Tioulh and 

 nostrils, with a loud noise, brandishing his tail in the air, and the va- 

 pour ascending from his nostrils like smoke. At other times, when 

 swollen to an extent ready to burst, his head and tail lifted up, he 

 spins or twirls round on the surface of the water. He acts his part 

 like an Indian chief when rehearsing his feats of war; and then retir- 

 ing, the exhibition is continued by others who dare to step forth, and 

 strive to excel each other, to gain the attention of the favourite female. 




WILLIAM BARTRAM. 



menclature and observations, and referred to your autho- 

 rity. To have you, therefore, to consult with in the 

 course of this great publication, I consider a most happy 

 and even auspicious circumstance; and I hope you will, on 

 all occasions, be a rigid censor and kind monitor, whenever 

 you find me deviating from the beauties of nature or the 

 truth of description." 



In fact, the rich fund of knowledge possessed by Mr. 

 Bartram, after so many years of application and research, 

 and the simple and unaffected manner in which he impart- 

 ed instruction to those who sought it of him, made his so- 

 ciety agreeable, and courted by the literary, scientific, 

 and others on very many occasions, but by no one more 

 than William Hamilton, Esq., a wealthy and highly re- 

 spectable citizen of the county of Philadelphia, whose 

 extensive domains bordering on the more humble resi- 

 dence of Mr. Bartram, offered him many opportunities of 

 reaping advantages and pleasure from the instructive know- 

 ledge of the latter; Mr. Hamilton himself being fond of 

 the study of botany. Mr. Bartram was a source of refer- 

 ence to many naturalists of his day, and there was scarce- 

 ly an American or foreign writer who attempted the natu- 

 ral history of this country but applied to him for informa- 

 tion on their relative treatises, and in many instances his 

 generous contributions were received and diffused to the 

 world by other writers without giving credit to the proper 

 author. 



So great was the fondness of Mr. Bartram for the works 

 of nature, that at the advanced age of 65, he concluded to 

 accompany Mr. Wilson on a short tour, and assist him in 

 his work on ornithology; on this the latter placed much 

 reliance, and his prospects of success became cheering by 

 so valuable a companion; but a long course of inclement 

 weather setting in, prevented the travellers from pursuing 

 their journey on the appointed day. On this occasion Mr. 

 Wilson composed the following stanzas, and sent them to 

 his aged friend in form of a note: 



June 16, 1804. 

 " I believe we had better put off our intended jaunt until some more 

 auspicious day. 



" Clouds, from eastern regions driven, 

 Still obscure the gloomy skies; 

 Let us yield, since angry heaven 

 Frowns upon our enterprise. 



" Haply some unseen disaster 

 Hung impending o'er our way, 

 Which our kind Almighty Master 

 Saw, and sought us thus to stay. 



" By-and-by, when fair Aurora 

 Bids the drowsy fogs to fly, 

 And the glorious god of Flora 

 Rises in a cloudless sky, 



" Then, in whirling chariot seated. 

 With my friend I'll gladly go: 

 With his converse richly treated — 

 Happy to be honoured so." 



Mr.Bartram was a member of theSociety of Friends, but 

 his religious opinions inclined to Unitarianism; his dispo- 

 sition was gentle, and his demeanour meek, but some- 

 what reserved. Mr. Bartram never married, and there- 

 fore had no parental duties to perform, but to those around 

 him, he was always provident, affectionate, and kind, and 

 benevolent to others. In stature he was below the niid- 

 dling size; his general health was good, although his con- 

 stitution was not robust. Habituated to the study of na- 

 ture, he saw nothing but mildness and harmony in all her 

 works, and, viewing them with that philosophy which 

 exalts and leads the mind to the contemplation of the great 

 first cause of all, he had imparted to his feelings the se- 

 renity which was so remarkable throughout his life; this, 

 supporting his constitution, and being exceedingly tempe- 

 rate in all his habits, his days were numbered beyond 

 the boundary common to human life. 



A few minutes before his death he wrote an article on 

 the natural history of a plant, and, in rising from his desk 

 to take a morning survey of the botanic grounds, he had 

 proceeded only a few steps from his door when he burst a 

 blood-vessel, which suddenly closed his useful life July 

 22d, 1823, in the 85th year of his age. 




TO 



TOLUME II. 



PORTRAIT OF WILLIAM BARTRAM. 



ENGRAVED TITLE PAGE. 



Page 



Plate I. Wild Horses, ---.-.-. j 



II. Great Horned Owl, - - ----- - 13 



III. Cougar, or Panther, -.--... 25 



IV. Canvas Back and Red-Headed Ducks, - . . . 37 

 V. Fox Hunting, (Breaking Cover,) .--.-. 49 



VI. Blue Jay and Ruby-Crowned Wren, - - - - - - 61 



VII. Raccoon, ----..--. 73 



VIII. Maryland Yellow-throat and American Red Start, - - - 8a 



IX. Esquimaux Dog, -...---. 97 



X. Humming-birds, Rose and Honeysuckle, ..... |09 



XI. Birds Eggs, - - - - - - - - 121 



XII. Scarlet Tanager and Blue-eyed Yellow Warbler, - - - - 133 



XIII. Gray Fox, - - - - - - - - 145 



XIV. Blue Crane and Hudsouian Godvvit, - - - - - - 157 



XV. American Buffalo, - - - - - - - 169 



XVI. Flicker, or Golden-winged Woodpecker, - . . \^\ 



XVII. Skunk, --..--. - 193 



XVIII. Gannet, old and young, ....... 205 



XIX. Polar Bear, - ..... 217 



XX. Snipe, ....-..., 229 



XXI. Grey Squirrel, ....... 2,^;^ 



XXII. Purple and Pine Finches, ---.-.. ^53 

 XXni. Black Wolf, ------- 265 



XXIV, Belted Kingsfishcr and Buffel-headed Duck, - - - - - 277 




CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



^mmmi^oikir m^m^m ^^©mii. 



THE HORSE. 

 EQUUS CABJILLUS. 



[Plate I. Vol. 2.] 



From the very exalted station which the noble animal, 

 the Horse, holds with man, a concise history of the vari- 

 ous breeds of horses, may be interesting and worthy of 

 attentive perusal; we have accordingly made selections on 

 this head, from a variety of authors, eminent as naturalists 

 and travellers, and embracing, we believe, almost every 

 species known. 



Of all brute animals in a state of association with the 

 human race, the Horse occupies the first and most impor- 

 tant rank. He forms an indispensable link in the chain of 

 Creation: without him, nature's system and human en- 

 joyments had been incomplete. He contributes equally 

 to the services, luxuries, and pleasures of man. Whether 

 it be laboriously to till the soil, as an associate with the 

 patient ox, to carry the heaviest burdens, or to perform 

 the longest and most painful journies, the Horse is the 

 ready and obedient slave of his master. Nature has en- 

 dowed this her favourite animal with a degree of intelli- 

 gence and a generous inclination to obedience, which 

 render him highly susceptible of education. His form 

 and qualities are admirably adapted by the Eternal and 

 Unerring Artist, to the particular rank he is intended to 

 fill in the scale of being. He is either fashioned to sustain 

 heavy burdens, and to endure the coarsest drudgery, or 

 endued with that just and beautiful symmetry of form and 

 delicacy of skin, which convey to the critical and scien- 

 tific view, ideas of perfection, and %vhich are harbingers 

 of the highest degree of quadrupedal activity and speed. 

 His full eye beams with mildness and generosity, or spar- 

 kles with the fire of courage, energy, and action. In war, 

 he offers a dauntless front to the greatest dangers, engag- 

 ing in the mortal strife and clangor of battle, unappalled, 

 and as actuated by an undivided and equal interest with 

 A 



his rider. In the field and on the course, he exhibits a 

 speed, and power of continuance, a firmness of nerve, a 

 strength of muscle and elasticity of sinew, of which no 

 other animal of the creation is capable; bearing his rider 

 along, over plains, hills, and vallies, as if impelled by su- 

 pernatural energy: but all descriptions of the Horse must 

 give place to that inspired one of Job, which has elevated 

 and delighted the minds of men of all ages and all na- 

 tions: — 



" Hast thou given the Horse strength? Hast thou clothed 

 his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a 

 grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible. He 

 paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength. He 

 goeth on to meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, 

 and is not affrighted: neither turneth he his back from the 

 sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering 

 spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with 

 fierceness and rage: neither believeth he that it is the 

 sound of the trumpet. He sayeth among the trumpets, 

 ha! ha! and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of 

 the captains, and the shouting." 



Job was a native of those desarts, to which is indigenous 

 that fine and delicate model of the horse genus, from his 

 superior speed, styled the Courser. These beautiful ani- 

 mals are supposed to have originated in the desarts of 

 Arabia, of Barbary, and of some other parts of Africa, and 

 from those to have migrated to the circumjacent countries. 

 Granting this to be supposition, it is confirmed by an 

 unbroken evidence of facts during thousands of years, 

 recourse being invariably had to those desarts for supplies 

 of this matchless race : but there exists no record of suffi- 

 cient antiquity to reach the first example of taming the 

 horse, since the most ancient histories represent him as 

 already inured to the service of man. 



The noblest conquest which was ever made by man is 

 that of this spirited and haughty animal, which shares with 

 him the fatigues of war and the glory of the combat. 

 Equally intrepid as his master, the Horse sees the danger, 

 and braves it; inspired at the clash of arms, he loves it, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



he seeks it, and is animated with the same ardour. He 

 feels pleasure also in the chase, in tournaments, in the 

 course; he is all fire, but, equally tractable as courageous, 

 does not give way to his impetuosity, and knows how to 

 check his inclinations; he not only submits to the arm 

 which guides him, but even seems to consult the desires 

 of his rider; and, always obedient to the impressions which 

 he receives from him, presses on, moves gently, or stops, 

 and only acts as his rider pleases. The Horse is a crea- 

 ture which renounces his being, to exist only by the will 

 of another, which he knows how to anticipate, and even 

 express, and execute by the promptitude and exactness of 

 his movements: he feels as much as we desire, does only 

 what we wish, giving himself up without reserve, and 

 refuses nothing, makes use of all his strength, exerts him- 

 self beyond it, and even dies the better to obey us. 



Such is the Horse, whose natural qualities art has im- 

 proved. His education commences with the loss of his 

 liberty, and by constraint it is finished. The slavery or 

 servitude of these creatures is universal, and so ancient 

 that we rarely see them in their natural state: they are 

 never wholly free from all their bands, not even at the 

 time of rest; and if they are sometimes suffered to range 

 at liberty in the fields, they always bear about them tokens 

 of servitude, and frequently the cruel marks of servitude 

 and of pain: the mouth is deformed by the wrinkles occa- 

 sioned by the bit, the flanks scarred with wounds inflicted 

 by the spur, the hoofs are pierced by nails, the attitude of 

 the body constrained, from the subsisting impression of 

 habitual shackles, from which they would be delivered in 

 vain, as they would not be the more at liberty for it. 

 Even those whose slavery is the most gentle, who are 

 only fed and broken for luxury and magnificence, and 

 whose golden chains serve less to decorate them, than to 

 satisfy the vanity of their master, are still more disho- 

 noured by the elegance of their trappings, by the tresses 

 of their manes, by the gold and silk with which they are 

 covered, than by the iron shoes on their feet. 



Nature is more delightful than art; and, in an animated 

 being, the freedom of its movements makes nature beau- 

 tiful: observe the Horses in Spanish America, which live 

 wild; their gait, their running, or their leaping, seem 

 neither constrained nor regular. Proud of their independ- 

 ence, they fly the presence of man, and disdain his care; 

 they seek and find for themselves proper nourishment; 

 they wander about in liberty in immense meads, where 

 they feed on the fresh productions of an eternal spring: 

 destitute of any fixed habitation, without any other shelter 

 than a mild sky, they breathe a purer air than those which 

 are confined in vaulted palaces. These wild Horses are 

 also much stronger, much swifter, and more nervous than 



the greater part of domestic Horses; they have, what na- 

 ture has bestowed upon them, strength and nobleness; the 

 others only what art can give, beauty and cunning. 



The JVild Horse. 



Troops of wild Horses are found in the plains of Great 

 Tartary, and also in several parts of South America. In 

 neither, however, can we recognise an original race. The 

 horses of the Ukraine, and those of South America, are 

 equally the descendants of those who had escaped from 

 the slavery of man. The Tartar Horses are fleet and 

 strong, but comparatively of an ordinary breed. Those 

 of South America retain, almost unimpaired, the size and 

 form of their European ancestors. 



In no part of America, or of the more newly-dis- 

 covered islands of the Pacific, was the Horse known, 

 until he was introduced by Europeans; and the origin of 

 the Horses of Tartary, has been clearly traced to those 

 who were employed in the siege of Azoph, in 1657, but 

 which were turned loose for want of forage. 



All travellers, who have crossed the plains extending 

 from the shores of La Plata to Patagonia, have spoken of 

 numerous droves of wild Horses. Some affirm that they 

 have seen ten thousand in one troop. They appear to be 

 under the command of a leader, the strongest and boldest 

 of the herd, and whom they implicitly obey. A secret 

 instinct teaches them that their safety consists in their 

 union, and in a principle of subordination. The lion, the 

 tiger, and the leopard,* are their principal enemies. At 

 some signal, intelligible to them all, they either close into 

 a dense mass, and trample their enemy to death; or, placing 

 the mares and foals in the centre, they form themselves 

 into a circle and welcome him with their heels. In the 

 attack, their leader is the first to face the danger, and, 

 when prudence demands a retreat, they follow his rapid 

 flight. 



In the thinly inhabited parts of South America, it is 

 dangerous to fall in with any of these troops. The wild 

 Horses approach as near as they dare: they call to the 

 loaded Horse with the greatest eagerness, and, if the rider 

 be not on the alert, and have not considerable strength of 

 arm, and sharpness of spur, his beast will divest himself 

 of his burden, take to his heels, and be gone for ever. 



Captain Head gives the following account of a meeting 

 with a troop of wild Horses, where the country is more 

 thickly inhabited. Some poor captured animals are sup- 

 posed to be forced along by their riders at their very- 

 utmost speed: — <' As they are thus galloping along, urged 



• These animals are of a different race from those which go under 

 the same names in the Old World, and are Tery inferior in strength. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



by the spur, it is interesting to see the groups of wild 

 Horses one passes. The mares, which are never ridden in 

 South America, seem not to understand what makes the 

 poor Horse carry his head so low, and look so weary.* 

 The little innocent colts come running to meet him, and 

 then start away frightened: while the old Horses, whose 

 white marks on the flanks and backs betray their acquaint- 

 ance with the spur and saddle, walk slowly away for some 

 distance, then, breaking into a trot as they seek their 

 safety, snort and look behind them, first with one eye 

 and then with the other, turning their nose from right to 

 left, and carrying their long tail high in the air." 



The same pleasing writer describes the system of horse- 

 management among the rude inhabitants of the plains of 

 South America. They have no stables, no fenced pastures. 

 One Horse is usually kept tied at the door of the hut, fed 

 scantily at night on maize; or at other times several may 

 be enclosed in the corral, which is a circular space sur- 

 rounded by rough posts, driven firmly into the ground. 

 The mares are never ridden, or attempted to be tamed, but 

 wander with their foals wherever they please. 



When the Gaucho, the native inhabitants of the plains, 

 wants horses for himself or for the supply of the traveller, 

 he either goes with his lasso to the corral, and selects 

 those, possibly, who on the preceding day had for the first 

 time been backed, or he scampers across the plain, and 

 presently returns with an unwilling, struggling, or sub- 

 dued captive. When the services of the animals have 

 been exacted, he either takes them to the corral, and feeds 

 them with a small quantity of maize, if he thinks he shall 

 presently need them again, or he once more turns them 

 loose on the plains. 



Travellers give some amusing accounts of the manner in 

 which all this is effected — Miers thus describes the lasso, 

 simple in its construction, but all-powerful in the hands of 

 the Gaucho. 



"The Lasso is a missile weapon used by every native 

 of the United Provinces and Chile. It is a very strong 

 plaited thong of equal thickness, half an inch in diameter, 

 and forty feet long; made of many strips of green hide, 

 plaited like a whipthong, and rendered supple by grease. 

 It has, at one end, an iron ring above an inch and a half 

 in diameter, through which the thong is passed, and this 

 forms a running noose. The Gaucho, or native Peon, is 

 generally mounted on horseback when he uses the lasso. 

 One end of the thong is affixed to his saddle girth: the 



* An Englishman once attempted to ride a mare, but he was hooted 

 and pelted by the natives, and thought himself fortunate to escape 

 without serious injury. 



Sir John Carr, in his Northern Summer, p. 44, states that it is only 

 a short time since mares began to be ridden in Russia. 



remainder he coils carefully in his left hand, leaving about 

 twelve feet belonging to the noose-end, in a coil, and a half 

 of which he holds in his right hand. He then swings 

 this long noose horizontally round his head, the weight of 

 the iron ring at the end of the noose assisting in giving to 

 it, by a continued circular motion, a sufficient force to pro- 

 ject it the whole length of the line." 



When the Gauchos wish to have a grand breaking-in, 

 they drive a whole herd of wild horses into the corral. 

 " The corral was quite full of Horses," says Captain Head, 

 "most of which were young ones about two or three years 

 old. The capitaz (chief Gaucho,) mounted on a strong steady 

 Horse, rode into the corral and threw his lasso over the neck 

 of a young Horse, and dragged him to the gate. For some 

 time he was very unwilling to leave his comrades; but the mo- 

 ment he was forced out of the corral, his first idea was to gallop 

 away: however a timely jerk of the lasso checked him in 

 the most effectual way. The peons now ran after him on 

 foot, and threw a lasso over his fore-legs just above the 

 fetlock, and twitching it, they pulled his legs from under 

 him so suddenly, that I really thought the fall he got had 

 killed him. In an instant a Gaucho was seated on his 

 head, and with his long knife, and in a few seconds, cut 

 off the whole of the Horse's mane, while another cut the 

 hair from the end of his tail. This they told me was a 

 mark that the Horse had been once mounted. They then 

 put a piece of hide into his mouth to serve for a bit, and a 

 strong hide halter on his head. The Gaucho who was to 

 mount, arranged his spurs, which were unusually long and 

 sharp,* and while two men held the Horse by his ears, he 

 put on the saddle, which he girthed extremely tight. He 

 then caught hold of the Horse's ear, and in an instant 

 vaulted into the saddle; upon which the man who held the 

 Horse by the halter threw the end to the rider, and from that 

 moment no one seemed to take any further notice of him. 



" The Horse instantly began to jump in a manner which 

 made it very difficult for the rider to keep his seat, and 

 quite different from the kick or plunge of an English 

 Horse: however, the Gaucho's spurs soon set him going, 

 and off he galloped doing everything in his power to throw 

 his rider. 



• The manufacture of the Gaucho's boots is somewhat singular. 

 " The boots of the Gauchos are formed of the ham and part of the leg- 

 skin of a colt taken reeking from the mother, which is said to be sacri- 

 ficed for the sole purpose, just at the time of bearing when the hair 

 has not begun to grow. At this stage, the skin strips off easily, and 

 is very white and beautiful in texture and appearance. The ham 

 forms the calf of the boot; the hock easily adopts itself to the heel, 

 and the leg above the fetlock constitutes the foot; the whole making 

 a neat and elegant half-boot, with an aperture sufficient for the great 

 toe, to project through." — Andrew's Journey in South America, vol. i, 

 p. 26. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



" Another Horse was immediately brought from the cor- 

 ral, and so quick was the operation, that twelve Gauchos 

 were mounted in a space which I think hardly exceeded 

 an hour. It was wonderful to see the different manner in 

 which different Horses behaved. Some would actually 

 scream while the Gauchos were girding the saddle upon 

 their backs; some would instantly lie down and roll upon 

 it; while some would stand without being held — their legs 

 stiff, and in unnatural positions, their necks half bent 

 towards their tails, and looking vicious and obstinate; and 

 I could not help thinking that I would not have mounted 

 one of those for any reward that could be offered me, for 

 they were invariably the most difficult to subdue. 



" It was now curious to look around and see the Gauchos 

 on the horizon in different directions, trying to bring their 

 Horses back to the corral, which is the most difficult part 

 of their work; for the poor creatures had been so scared 

 there that they were unwilling to return to the place. It 

 was amusing to see the antics of the Horses — they were 

 jumping and dancing in different ways, while the right 

 arm of the Gauchos was seen flogging them. At last they 

 brought the Horses back, apparently subdued, and broken 

 in. The saddles and bridles were taken off, and the young 

 Horses trotted off towards the corral, neighing to one 

 another. 



" The Horses of the Pampas are like the common descrip- 

 tion of Spanish Horse, but rather stronger. They are of 

 all colours, and a great number are pie-bald. When 

 caught, they will always kick at any person who goes 

 behind them ; and it is often with great difficulty that they 

 can be bridled and saddled: however, they are not vicious, 

 and when properly broken in, will allow the children to 

 mount by climbing up their tails. In mounting, it is ne- 

 cessary to be very quick, and previous to dismounting, it 

 is proper to throw the bridle over one side of the head, as the 

 Horses almost always run backwards, if one attempts to hold 

 them by the bridle when it is over the head, as in England. 

 "Although I rode many thousand milesin South America, 

 I was quite unable to learn how to select either a good 

 Horse or an easy-going one, for by their appearance I found 

 it impossible to form a judgment; indeed, I generally se- 

 lected for myself the worst-looking Horses, as I sometimes 

 fancied that they went the best. 



"When first mounted, they often begin to kickand plunge, 

 but by giving them a loose rein, and by spurring them, 

 they will generally start, and when once at their pace, 

 they go quiet. However, the kicking at starting is a most 

 painful operation to undergo, for from hard riding the 

 back and shoulders get so dreadfully stiff, that such sudden 

 and violent motion seems to dislocate the limbs." 



When the Gaucho wishes to take a wild Horse, he 



mounts one that has been used to the sport, and gallops 

 over the plain. As soon as he comes sufficiently near his 

 prey, "the lasso is thrown round the two hind legs, and 

 as the Gaucho rides a little on one side, the jerk pulls the 

 entangled horse's feet laterally, so as to throw him on his 

 side, without endangering his knees or his face. Before 

 the Horse can recover the shock, the rider dismounts, and 

 snatching his poncho or cloak from his shoulders, wraps it 

 round the prostrate animal's head. He then forces into 

 his mouth one of the powerful bridles of the country, straps 

 a saddle on his back, and bestriding him, removes the 

 poncho; upon which the astonished horse springs on his 

 legs, and endeavours by a thousand vain efforts to disen- 

 cumber himself of his new master, who sits quite compo- 

 sedly on his back, and, by a discipline which never fails, 

 reduces the Horse to such complete obedience, that he is 

 soon trained to lend his whole speed and strength to the 

 capture of his companions. 



" These animals possess much of the form of the Spanish 

 Horse, from which they sprung; they are tamed, as has 

 been seen, with far less difficulty than could be thought 

 possible; and, although theirs is the obedience of fear, and 

 enforced at first by the whip and spur, there are no Horses 

 who so soon and so perfectly exert their sagacity and their 

 power in the service of man. They are possessed of no 

 extraordinary speed, but they are capable of enduring im- 

 mense fatigue. They are frequently ridden sixtyor seventy 

 miles without drawing bit, and have been urged on by the 

 cruel spur of the Gaucho, more than a hundred miles, and 

 at the rate of twelve miles in the hour. 



"Like the Arab Horses, they know no intermediate pace 

 between the walk and the gallop. Although at the end of 

 a day so hard, their sides are horribly mangled, and they 

 completely exhausted, there is this consolation for them, 

 they are immediately turned loose on the plains, and it 

 will be their own fault if they are speedily caught again. 

 The mare is occasionally killed for food, and especially on 

 occasions of unusual festivity. General San Martin, 

 during the war for independence, gave a feast to the Indian 

 allies attached to his army; and mares' flesh, and the blood 

 mixed with gin, formed the whole of the entertainment. 



"On such dry and sultry plains the supply of water is 

 often scanty, and then a species of madness seizes on the 

 Horses, and their generous and docile qualities are no 

 longer recognized. They rush violently into every pond 

 and lake, savagely mangling and trampling upon one ano- 

 other; and the carcases of many thousands of them de- 

 stoyed by their fellows, have occasionally been seen in 

 and around a considerable pool. This is one of the means 

 by which the too rapid increase of this quadruped is, by 

 the ordinance of Nature, there prevented. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



" The wild Horses of Tartary, although easily domesti- 

 cated, materially differ in character from those on the 

 plains of South America. They will not suffer a stranger 

 to join them. If a domesticated Horse comes in their way, 

 unprotected by his master, they attack him with their teeth 

 and their heels, and speedily destroy him. They readily 

 submit, however, to the dominion of man, and become 

 perfectly docile and faithful. 



"Among the Tartars, the flesh of the Horse is a frequent 

 article of food; and although they do not, like the Indians 

 of the Pampas, eat it raw, their mode of cookery would 

 not be very inviting to the European epicure. They cut 

 the muscular parts into slices, and place them under their 

 saddles, and after they have galloped thirty or forty miles, 

 the meat becomes tender and sodden, and fit for their table; 

 and, at all their feasts, the first and last and rfiost favourite 

 dish, is a Horse's head. 



"When water was not at hand, the Scythians used to 

 draw blood from their Horses and drink it; and the dukes of 

 Muscovy, for nearly two hundred and sixty years, pre- 

 sented Tartar ambassadors with the milk of mares. If any 

 of this milk fell upon the mane of the Horse, the duke, by 

 custom, was bound to lick it off." 



In North America, innumerable wild Horses were seen 

 by Lieut. Z. M. Pike, while on his exploring expedition 

 to the sources of the Arkansas River, &c. ; they were met 

 with continually on the shores of most of the rivers in the 

 Arkansas Territories, the first herd being seen in Lat. 

 37° Long. 38°. 



" The natural disposition of these animals is not ferocious, 

 they are only high-spirited and wild; and thongh supe- 

 rior in strength to the greatest part of animals, they yet 

 never attack them; and if they are attacked by others, 

 either disdain them or trample them under their feet. 

 They go also in bodies, and unite themselves into troops, 

 merely for the pleasure of being together, for they are not 

 fearful of, but have an attachment to each other. As 

 herbs and vegetables are sufficient for their nourishment, 

 they have quite enough to satisfy their appetite; and as 

 they have no relish for the flesh of animals, they never make 

 war with them, nor with each other; they never quarrel 

 about their food, they have no occasion to ravish the prey 

 of another, the ordinary source of contentions and quar- 

 rels among carniverous animals. They live in peace be- 

 cause their appetite is simple and moderate; and as they 

 have enough, there is no room for envy. 



" As all parts of Europe are at present peopled, and al- 

 most equally inhabited, wild Horses are no longer found 

 there; and those which we see in America were origi- 

 nally European tame Horses, which have multiplied in the 

 vast desarts of that country. The astonishment and fear 

 B 



which the inhabitants of Mexico and Peru expressed at 

 the sight of Horses, and their riders, convinced the Spa- 

 niards that this animal was entirely unknown in these 

 countries; they therefore carried thither a great number, 

 as well for service and their particular utility as to propa- 

 gate the breed. M. de la Salle, in 1685, saw in the north- 

 ern parts of America, near the bay of St. Louis, whole 

 troops of these wild Horses feeding in the pastures, which 

 were so fierce that no one dared to approach them. The 

 author of the History of the Adventures of the Bucca- 

 neers, says that, in the island of St. Domingo, Horses 

 may sometimes be seen in troops of upwards of five hun- 

 dred, all running together, and that as soon as they see a 

 man, they will all stop; that one of them will approach to 

 a certain distance, snort, take flight, and then all the rest 

 will follow him. To catch them, they make use of nooses 

 made of ropes, which they spread and hang in places 

 which they know they frequent: but if they are caught 

 by the neck they strangle themselves, unless the hunter 

 comes time enough to their assistance, who instantly se- 

 cures them by the body and legs, and fastens them to 

 trees, where they are left for two days without either food 

 or drink. This experiment is sufficient to begin to make 

 them tractable, and in time they become as much so as if 

 they had never been wild; and even if by chance they 

 ever regain their liberty, they never become so again, 

 but know their masters, and suffer them to catch them 

 again without trouble. 



" The manners of these animals almost wholly depend on 

 their education. From time immemorial it has been 

 the custom to separate the colts from their mothers: 

 mares are suffered to suckle them five, six, or seven 

 months; for experience has taught us, that those colts 

 which are suckled ten or eleven months, are not of equal 

 value with those which are weaned sooner, though they 

 are generally fuller of flesh. After six or seven months 

 sucking, they are weaned, that they may take more solid 

 nourishment than milk; bran is then given them twice a 

 day, and a little hay, of which the quantity is increased in 

 proportion as they advance in age, and they are kept in 

 the stable as long as they seem to retain any desire to re- 

 turn to the mare; but when this desire ceases, they are 

 suffered to go out in fine weather, and led to pasture; 

 but care must be taken not to suffer them to go out to pas- 

 ture fasting; they must have bran, and be made to drink, 

 an hour before they are suffered to graze, and are never to 

 be exposed to great cold or rain: in this manner they 

 spend the first winter; in the May following, they are 

 not only permitted to graze every day, but are suffered to 

 lie in the fields all the summer, and even to the end of Oc- 

 tober, only observing not to let them eat the after-grass; for 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



if they accustom themselves much to it, they will grow dis- 

 gusted with hay, which ought, however, to be their principal 

 food during the second winter, together with bran mixed 

 with barley, or oats wetted. They are managed in this man- 

 ner, letting them graze in the day time during winter, and in 

 the night time during the summer, till they are four years 

 old, when they are taken from the pastures, and fed on 

 hay. This change in his food requires some precaution; 

 for the first eight days, the colt should have nothing but 

 straw, and it is proper to administer some vermifuge 

 drinks, as worms may have been generated from indiges- 

 tion and green food. 



" Great attention must be paid in weaning young colts, 

 to put them into a proper stable, not too hot, for fear of 

 making them too delicate and sensible to the impressions 

 of the air. They should frequently have fresh litter, and 

 be kept very clean, by rubbing them down with a wisp 

 of straw. But they should not be tied up and curried till 

 they are two years and a half or three years old; this cur- 

 rying gives them great pain, their skin being as yet too 

 delicate to bear it, and they would fall away instead of 

 growing fat from it; care must also be taken that the rack 

 and manger are not too high, the necessity of raising their 

 heads too high in order to reach their food may possibly 

 produce a habit of carrying it in this fashion, which would 

 give them an awkward appearance. 



" At the age of three years, or three years and a half, the 

 rider should begin to break them and make them tracta- 

 ble; they should at first have a light, easy saddle, and 

 ought to wear it two or three hours every day; and they 

 should be accustomed to have a snafide bit in their mouths, 

 and to lift up their feet, on which they should sometimes 

 receive rather smart strokes, and if designed for coach or 

 draught Horses, should wear harness and a bridle. At 

 first a curb should not be used, they should be held by a 

 caveson, or leather strap, and be made to trot, on even 

 ground, without a rider, and with only the saddle or har- 

 ness on tlie body; and when the saddle Horse turns 

 easily, and willingly follows the person who holds the lea- 

 ther strap, the rough rider should mount him and dis- 

 mount again in the same place, without making him move, 

 till he is four years old, because before that age, the weight 

 of a man overloads him, but at four years he should be 

 made to walk or trot, a little way at a time, with the rider 

 on his back. When a coach Horse is accustomed to the 

 harness, he should be paired with a Horse that is tho- 

 roughly broken, putting on him a bridle, with a strap 

 passed through it, till he begins to be used to the draught; 

 after this the coachman must teach him to back, having 

 the assistance of a man before, who must push him gently 

 back, and even give him some blows to make him do 



it: all this should be done before young Horses have 

 changed their food, for when once they are what is 

 called corn-fed, that is, when they feed on grain and hay, 

 as they are more vigorous, it is remarked also that they 

 are less tractable, and more diificult to break. 



" The bit and the spur are two means made use of to 

 bring them into order. The mouth does not appear form- 

 ed by nature to receive any other impressions than that of 

 taste and appetite; there is, however, so great a sensi- 

 bility in the mouth of a Horse, that, in preference to the 

 eyes and ears, we address ourselves to it, to make him un- 

 derstand our pleasure; the smallest motion or pressure of 

 the bit is sufiicient to inform and determine the animal; 

 and this organ of sense has no other fault than its perfec- 

 tion. Its too great sensibility must be managed, for if it 

 is abused, the mouth of the Horse is spoiled, and render- 

 ed insensible to the impression of the bit; the senses of 

 sight and hearing are not subject to such a change, and 

 could not be dulled in this manner; but it has been found 

 convenient to govern Horses by these organs, and it is 

 generally true, that signs given by the sense of feeling 

 have more effect on animals in general than those con- 

 veyed to the eyes or ears; besides, the situation of Horses 

 with relation to those who mount or conduct them, makes 

 their eyes almost useless for this purpose, because they 

 see only straight forwards, so that they could only per- 

 ceive the signs made to them when they turned their 

 heads round; and although they are frequently conducted 

 and animated by the ear, yet in fact, if they are well bro- 

 ken, the smallest pressure of the thighs, or most trifling 

 motion of the bit, is sufficient to direct them; the spur is 

 even useless, or at least it is only made use of to force 

 them to violent motions; and as, through the folly of the 

 rider, it often happens that in giving the spur he checks 

 the bridle, the Horse, finding himself excited on one side, 

 and kept in on the other, only prances and capers, with- 

 out stirring out of his place. 



" By means of the bridle we teach Horses to hold up their 

 heads, and place them in a proper manner, and the small- 

 est sign or movement of the rider is sufficient to make 

 the Horse show all his different paces; the most natural 

 is perhaps the trot, but ambling and galloping are more 

 pleasant for the rider, and these are the two paces we par- 

 ticularly endeavour to improve." 



[To be C07itinued.] 



TO THE EDITORS OP THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORT. 



Gentlemen: — At your request I send you for publi- 

 cation, the calendar of nature which accompanies this. It 

 was kept at a time when I had but little acquaintance with 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



Natural History, and when I had but little intercourse 

 with the scientific world. It was made for my own amuse- 

 ment, and was never intended for the public eye. As you 

 think it contains some curious facts, and that it is calculated 

 to elicit a spirit of observation in the youthful naturalist, 

 I have consented to its publication in the original form, 

 little or no alteration being made in the manuscript. 

 Yours truly, 



J. G. 

 Philada. Dec. 1st, 1831. 



NOTES OF A NATURALIST. 

 By Jacob Green, M. D. 



A correct tabular view, in which is recorded the leaf- 

 ing and flowering of plants, the arrival and incubation of 

 birds, and several other common occurrences of nature, 

 as they successively arise, cannot fail to be a source of 

 rational entertainment. Several attempts of this sort have 

 been made by naturalists, both in ancient and modern 

 times. In the works of Aristotle and Theophrastus, 

 something of this kind may be found. Pliny, in his Na- 

 tural History, remarks, (liber 16. 25,) ^«With the first 

 soft breeze the cornelian cherry puts forth its bud, next 

 the bai/, a little before the equinox. The lime, the ma- 

 ple, the poplar, the elm, the sallow, the elder, the filbert, 

 and the hazel, are among the first that put out leaves; the 

 plum tree also is very early." Thus we see from this 

 attentive observer, of other times, that trees were governed 

 by certain fixed laws, with regard to their time of leafing, 

 and that when one species of tree was seen to be in foliage, 

 the next in succession could be easily predicted. 



Calendars of a similar sort may be found in White's 

 highly interesting History of Selborne, in England, and in 

 several periodical works published in the United States. 

 In recording the numerous facts as they arise, I shall in- 

 dulge in any zoological or other remarks, which may 

 occur. Since my notes were completed, I find that Dr. 

 Bigelow of Boston, has issued a circular, in which he re- 

 quests the naturalists of the United States to keep such a 

 record during the spring of 1817, in order that contempora- 

 neous observations of the same facts, in difierent places, may 

 aflbrd materials for a general American Calendar of Flora. 



Naturalist'' s Calendar, kept at Princeton, N. J., in 1817, 

 by Jacob Green, M. D. Professor of Chemistry, 

 Experimental Philosophy, and Natural History, in 

 Nassau Hall. 



January. The deep snow which has covered the ground 

 for some days, obliges the common Crow, (corvus corone,) 



to leave their usual haunts. They flock around stacks of 

 grain, and visit our barn-yards in search of food. 



Larks, (alauda magna?) are now easily shot. They 

 frequent fields where the weeds are so tall as not to be 

 covered with snow, and hover around their tops, for the 

 seed; they are exceedingly fat. A Golden-eyed Duck, 

 (anas clangula,) was noticed in the water, in company 

 with a flock of tame ducks; it was killed, and a pike, 

 (esox,) about four inches long, was found in its throat. 



March 9th. Lamium amplexicaule, in bloom. The 

 bright red flowers of this little plant, are in beautiful con- 

 trast with the snow which is still in many places on the 

 ground. 



lOth. The trees exhibit but few marks of vegetation. 

 The Lombardy Poplar, (populus dilatata?) on being cut 

 down, exuded no sap. 



I5th. The Smelt, or snow-fish, (salmo eparlanus) taken 

 in the Raritan river, near New-Brunswick. 



\8th. This morning I heard for the first time the plain- 

 tive note of the Blue Bird, (silvia sialis. ) 



\9th. A more violent snow-storm than any during the 

 last winter. 



2\st. The Fe//ot« 5/r(i, (fringilla tristis,) seen. Blue 

 birds numerous. 



24/A. Robins in the orchards. Many of these birds 

 pass the whole winter in the bushy marshes of this neigh- 

 bourhood, where the water rarely freezes. 



25th. Heard the Killdeer (charadrius vociferus.) 



30/A. Frogs begin to croak (rana zebra?) In the shal- 

 low streams salamanders are numerous (sal. rubriventris, 

 var.) 



Jipril 1. I noticed this morning the brownish butterfly, 

 called Papilio Jintiopa, skimming along the wet places, 

 near the road-side. The snow was still visible in many 

 places in the woods, and on the hills. Pliny remarks, 

 that the appearance of the butterfly is supposed by many 

 the surest indication of returning spring, because the ani- 

 mal is too delicate to support severe changes in the wea- 

 ther. The Papilio Antiopa, is thought by many to ex- 

 ceed most of the papilios in beauty, but as it appears ear- 

 lier in the season than any other butterfly, it is probably 

 owing to this circumstance that it is so much admired. 

 Its glossy brown wings, edged with white, and spotted 

 with blue, are certainly pretty. Our good and great orni- 

 thologist, Wilson, alludes to it in the following line, 

 " When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing." 



2d. Common flies, (musca domestica,) seen in great 

 numbers. Earth worms perforate the surface of the soil. 



2d. Cabbage seed, and early peas sown. 



Ath. Potatoes, beets, and onions planted. 



5th. Shepherd's Pouch, (thlaspi,) in flowers, and the 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



catkins of the Jispen, (populns tremiila,) made their ap- 

 pearance. 



6M. The Gooseberry, (ribes,) and the Willow, (salix 

 babylonica,) in leaf. 



Sth. Spiders shoot their webs. Is this ever done, when 

 the animal moves about in the warm days of winter? 



9th. Aiemone Hcpatica blooms in the woods. In the 

 gardens, the Blue Violet, and the Daffodil, or Narsisus, 

 are in flower. The violet, — the vernal crocus, — the snow- 

 drop, and many other plants, which flower in the begin- 

 ning of spring, cannot by any pains or care, be made to 

 blossom in the autumn, or after the summer solstice. It 

 is remarkable, that these plants, which are so very patient 

 of the cold of spring, should in the autumn be so tender 

 as not to endure the first hard frost. There are, however, 

 many exceptions to this rule. The willow tree, or salix 

 babylonica, is one of the first trees clothed in verdure, and 

 is also one of the last that the frost of autumn strips of its 

 leaves. It is said that thistles, and some other plants, in 

 Sweden, which flower about the time of the summer sol- 

 stice, never blossom before or after, and that husbandmen 

 judge from this circumstance, as from a calendar which 

 cannot deceive them, whether the solstice be past. (See 

 Stillingfleet's Miscellaneous Tracts, page 140.) 



lOM. The Skunk Cabbage, (dracontium faetidum,) in 

 flower, in moist situations. 



IIM. A beautiful species of dytiscus, called here the 

 IVater iVilch, plays on the surface of the small streams. 

 Most of these insects were in pairs. 



12 fh. Jints open their holes. The Martin, (hirundo 

 purpurea,) appeared. The garden Hyacinth, (hyacinthus 

 orientalis,) in flower. In the woods, I saw the Blood 

 Root, or Sanguinaria Canadensis, in bloom. 



14/A. Bees begin to collect honey. They always come 

 from their hives in the warm days of winter. Pliny says 

 they do not leave them till the 11th of May, and seems to 

 blame Aristotle for saying they came out in March or the 

 beginning of spring. 



Moles, (sorex cristatus,) throw up hillocks; this is, I 

 believe, performed much earlier, though I have not seen 

 any indications of it. 



The Willow, (salix babylonica,) in blossom. I saw 

 for the first time a pair of Chipping Birds, (fringilla so- 

 cialis,) or American sparrows. I heard their notes, how- 

 ever, a considerable time ago. The name Chipping is 

 from the note they have when hopping on the ground, or 

 among the branches; their love song is very different. 



I5th. Reddish orange Butterfly, (papilio viola,) 

 whose wings are spotted with black, and expand about an 

 inch and a half, appeared flying about a cluster of full 

 blown daffodils. 



The young Grasshopper, (gryllus,) without wings, is 

 jumping about on the grass. In this state, it secretes a 

 remarkable quantity of a brownish fluid from its mouth. 



A small dipterous insect, resembling what is called the 

 May-fly, and a small kind of scaraboeus, appeared. 



Crickets open their holes in the fields, and play around 

 them. The common Mud Wasp was seen. In one of 

 the warm days in February last, I saw one of these insects 

 crawling torpidly in the sun. I placed it under a tumbler, 

 near my fire-place, and fed it on honey. It became active 

 and vigorous ; but died in about two weeks after its cap- 

 ture. A friend has related a curious instance respecting 

 this species of wasp. One summer afternoon a wasp flew 

 into the room where he was sitting, and upon watching its 

 motions he observed it fly to a number of small spider's 

 nests, and shake them with his feet, as if he were entangled 

 by them. He was at a loss to understand this mancEuvre, 

 till the wasp at last flew to a web, which he commenced 

 shaking as he did the others; a spider then darted from 

 his hiding place, no doubt expecting to seize some unfor- 

 tunate insect, which he supposed was fastened in his snare; 

 but the wasp grappled him as soon as he came within 

 reach, and bore him off in triumph. 



I saw large numbers of the Humble Bee lying dead on 

 the ground, which appear to have been thrown out of 

 their holes, which are bored in the rails of the fences. I 

 thought them torpid, and endeavoured to revive them; 

 they were both male and female. I suppose they must 

 have been killed by the severity of the last winter. I also 

 saw them flying. 



\(ith. tAnts deposit their eggs under stones. 

 Strawberries, (fragraria elatior et virginiana,) in flower. 

 (Ulmus Americana) Elm Tree, in flower. The Peach. 

 Tree, (amigdalus?) in blossom. Asparagus, (medeola,) 

 proper for cutting for the table. 

 17/A. Gooseberries in flower. 



21s/. Jinemone Thalictroides in bloom. Currants, 

 (ribes) begin to form. Cherry tree, (prunus) in full 

 blossom. Cabbage plants set out. 



24/A. Ranunculus Mortivus flowers. 

 2Qth. The Dandelion, (leontodon taraxacum,) flowers. 

 Dr. Barton, in the third volume of the American Phi- 

 losophical Transactions, says, this plant is not indige- 

 nous; it is certainly found in places remote from any habi- 

 tation. Blue Violet in the woods, (viola cuculata,) flowers. 

 2S//t. Saxifragia Virginia, nivalis and vernalis, in flow- 

 ers, in the woods, and road-sides. I transplanted the 

 saxifragia vernalis to a little box in my chamber, where it 

 flourishes very well. -The flowers, which are situated on the 

 top of a scapus, follow the course of the sun, like the He- 

 lanthus. This plant was in bloom a week since. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



Gnaphalium Plantagenium flowers, and also a species of 

 Myosotis. 



30ih. Voting chickens leave the egg. 



The Swallow, (hirundo Americana,) in numbers, and also 

 the Goldfinch. Both of these birds, I suppose, appear 

 much earlier, but my situation prevented me from seeing 

 them before. 



May 4th. The small Yellow Butterfly, (papilio he- 

 cube?) which expands its wings about an inch and a quar- 

 ter, and which is seen during the summer months playing 

 about wet, muddy spots along the road-side, was seen. 

 The small moscheto seen. 



5M. Viola Pubescens Acton, or Pennsylvanica Mich. 

 ill flower. 



Qth. Young Ducks hatched. 



\Oth. ?Fre«s build their nests, (silvia domestica. ) Night 

 Hawk, (caprimulgus Americanus,) appears. Chimney 

 Swallows, (hirundo pelasgia,) build their nests. 



Wth. The white nocturnal Moths, called Millers, which 

 expand their wings about one quarter of an inch, appeared. 



\Ath. The Blue Bird builds its nest. The female only, 

 as far as I observed, was employed. The male bird 

 guarded the box, and sang to her during her work. They 

 did not sleep in their new habitation, the two first nights 

 it was in their possession, for on the third day, after much 

 labour, they apparently abandoned it. 



I5th. The Cat Bird, (T. Lividus,) appears. This bird 

 rarely uses the note from whence it has its name, on its 

 first coming, but two or three other notes of the softest 

 melody. 



The Blue Flag, (iris,) the Snowball Tree, (vibernum,) 

 and the Peony, (paeonia,) in flower. 



I6th. The Chewenk, or Towhe Bunting, (emberiza, 

 erythrophthalma,) is on the trees; it has a charming song. 



I observed a large number of tints resorted to, and 

 covered the buds of the Peony, probably for food; but 

 when thefloiver is fully blown, they forsake it. 



Vaccinium Corymbosum, Geranium Maculatum, and 

 Podophyllum Peltatum, or May Apple, in flowers. 



Ring Dove, coos. Grey Owls, hoot. Goldfinches 

 pair. Quere, how long does this take place, before the 

 business of nidification is commenced? 



\lth. The orange-brown Moth, or Butterfly, which ex- 

 pands its wings about an inch, which are covered with 

 black spots, appeared. 



Caltha Palustus, in blossom. 



Azalea Viscosa, a variety of this plant blossoms. 



Rhaphanus Rhaphanistrus, or wild radish, flowers. 



Early Peas flower, being forty-six days after they were 

 planted. 



IS/A. The May Ease blooms. 

 C 



The Blue Birds have returned to their box. I suspect 

 they never intended to leave it entirely; but that they 

 always absent themselves some hours after their nest is 

 completed; though I observed, that nothing but straw and 

 small sticks were used, which could not require dry- 

 ing. The male and female always come together, though 

 the male now frequently leaves the other in the box, fly- 

 ing oS" to some neighbouring tree. This he never did, 

 while the nest was constructing; then he always called to 

 her while she was at work, and she answered him with a 

 short, plaintive note, which now she seems to have forgot- 

 ten. To-day, I think, she has deposited her first egg. They 

 visit the box but rarely in the course of the day, but at least 

 once early in the morning, and again as the sun is setting; 

 though I suspect they are all the day on the surrounding 

 trees. 



20th. The Mocking Bird, (T. Polyglottus,) sings. 

 This evening, just as the sun had gone down, this charm- 

 ing warbler made the woods to echo with his various notes. 

 I listened to him about a quarter of an hour, and then left 

 him singing. 



May 2lst. The seventeen year Locust, (cicada septem- 

 decima, ) appears. It rises from the ground a kind of ap- 

 terous beetle. After leaving the shell of its chrysalis 

 state, it is about twenty-four hours before it has suflicient 

 strength to fly, and then about five days before it sings. 



23d. Strawberries ripe. 



24th. Saw the Toad, (bufo musicus,) for the first time. 



The large Butterfly, (bombyx luna,) the handsomest 

 species of this insect in this part of the country, breaks its 

 winter case. A branch which supported this insect and 

 its cocoon, was broken from an apple tree last fall, and sus- 

 pended in the kitchen. 



Oyster Pla7it, (tragopodon,) flowers; the calyx of the 

 plant closes over the petals just before sundown; it never 

 fully expands but in the sunshine. 



21 fh. Mock Orange, (Philadelphus odorus,) flowers. 



Blue Birds hatch their first broods. 



3lst. May JVeed, (anthemis cotula,) flowers. The 

 full white blossom of this weed may be seen in uncul- 

 tivated fields, and along the road sides, till the end of 

 autumn. 



June 3d. The Locusts, which have been kept in tlie 

 ground, by reason of the cold and rainy weather. (Ther- 

 mometer, between 40° and 50°, the whole time) now ap- 

 pear in vast numbers. 



5th. The Robin, (turdus migratorius,) sits. Black- 

 berry, (rubus occidentalis,) blossoms. The Mallow, 

 (malva,) flowers. 



The pea-green Caterpillar, which appears about this 

 time, presented me with a curious fact. I fastened one of 




10 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



them to a board, with a pin, which passed through the 

 middle of the body, and in that situation the animal as- 

 sumed the chrysaline state, — the chrysalis was alive 

 three or four days afterwards. The caterpillar was about 

 an inch and a half long, and was marked with black bands 

 and spots. 



nth. The Rose Bug, (melolontha multivora,) appears. 

 Large numbers of these insects fill the air. A vi^ite sub- 

 stance seems to be a favourite article to rest upon, such as 

 bleached linen. They emit from them a juice similar to 

 that of the grasshopper, but somewhat darker. Apterous 

 animalculae, appear in rain water. When viewed through 

 the solar miscroscope, the fore-part appeared truncated, and 

 a little bristly; near the tail, there projected two or more 

 plume-like hairs; in swimming it seemed to move only at 

 the extremities, the middle part remaining still. This 

 animal darted so swiftly through the water, whenever it 

 was brought to the focus of the miscroscope, (owing, no 

 doubt, to the heat of the concentrated rays,) that I could 

 not accurately distinguish its component parts. To the 

 naked eye, the animal has somewhat the shape of a tad- 

 ])ole, the tail of which seemed forked. 

 [7b be continued.] 



PASSAGE ACROSS THE GREAT CORDILLERA. 



I WAS steadily riding my mule at the rate of five 

 miles an hour, in order to measure, by my watch, the 

 breadth of the plains of Uspallata, when we met an old 

 Gaucho huntsman, with two lads, and a number of dogs, 

 which at once put a stop to my calculation. He had seve- 

 ral loose horses, over one of which was hanging the car- 

 cass of a guanaco. 



He had been hunting for lions, and had been among the 

 mountains for two days, but had had little sport. The 

 Gaucho was a fine picture of an old sportsman. Round 

 his body were the "bolas" (balls,) which were covered 

 with clotted blood. His knees were admirably protected 

 from the bushes, by a hide, which was under his saddle, 

 and which in front had the appearance of gambadoes. 



He was mounted on a good horse; his lasso, in coils, 

 hung at his saddle. As soon as we stopped, he was sur- 

 rounded by his dogs, which were a very odd pack. Some 

 of them were very large, and some quite small, and they 

 seemed to be all of different breeds; many had been lamed 

 by the lions and tigers, and several bore honourable scars. 

 I regretted very much indeed that I had not time to fol- 

 low the sport, which must have been highly interesting. 



As soon as the dogs unkennel a lion or a tiger, they 



pursue him until he stops to defend himself. If the dogs 

 fly upon him, the Gaucho jumps off his horse, and while 

 the animal is contending with his enemies, he strikes 

 him on the head with the balls, to which an extraordinary 

 momentum can be given. If the dogs are at bay, and 

 afraid to attack their foe, the Gaucho then hurls the lasso 

 over him, and galloping away, he drags him along the 

 ground, while the hounds rush upon him, and tear him. 



The mountains now seemed to be really over our heads, 

 and we expected that we should have immediately to 

 climb them, but for many hours we went over a plain as 

 dry and barren as the country already described on the 

 other side of Uspallata, and which wound its course among 

 the mountains. At last we crossed a rapid torrent of 

 water, and then immediately afterwards came to another, 

 which takes its rise at the summit of the Andes, and whose 

 course, and comparatively gradual descent, directs the pas- 

 sage; and it is on this spot the traveller may proudly feel 

 that he is at last buried among the mountains of the Andes. 

 The surface of the rocks which surrounded us, afforded no 

 pasture, and the gnarled wood and the stunted growth of 

 the trees, announced the severity of the climate in winter; 

 yet the forms of the mountains, and the wild gioups in 

 which they stood towering one above another, can only be 

 viewed with astonishment and admiration. 



Although the sun was retiring, and the mules very tired, 

 we wished to have gone on half an hour longer, but the 

 peon assured us we should not find so good a place, and, 

 pointing to some withered herbage, and some large loose 

 stones, he earnestly advised me to stop, saying, " Hai 

 aqui pasto bueno para las mulas, y para su merced buen 

 alojamiento, hai agua, aqui hai todo," (here is pasture for 

 the mules, and for your excellency good lodging, water, 

 and everything.) We therefore dismounted near a spring, 

 and having collected wood, and the miners having cooked 

 our supper, we lay down on the ground to sleep. The air 

 was cool and refreshing, and the scene really magnifi- 

 cent. 



As I lay on the ground upon my back, the objects 

 around me gradually became obscure, while the sun, which 

 had long ago set to us, still gilded the summits of the high- 

 est mountains, and gave a sparkling brightness to the 

 snow, which faded with the light of day. The scene un- 

 derwent a thousand beautiful changes; but when it was all 

 lost in utter darkness, save the bold outline which rested 

 against the sky, it appeared more beautiful than ever. 



The peon, who was always very active, was up long 

 before day-break, and we were awakened by the bell- 

 mule, and the others which were now collected. We got 

 up in the dark, and as our party were preparing to start, 

 the group, though indistinctly seen by the blaze of the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



fire, was a very odd one. The three miners were eating 

 their breakfasts seated on loose stones round a large frag- 

 ment of rock, which served as a table. Their elbows were 

 squared, and they were eagerly bending over the food 

 before them. The peons, with their dark brown faces, 

 and different coloured caps, handkerchiefs, and ponchos, 

 were loading the " carga" mules. Some of the party were 

 putting on their spurs; others were arranging their toilette. 

 The light was now faintly dawning on the tops of the high- 

 est mountains, and the snow was just discovered lying in 

 large patches and ridges. The bottoms of the ravines 

 were in dark shade, and white windy clouds were flying 

 across the deep blue sky — for some moments all was 

 silent: however, as soon as the mules were ready we 

 mounted, and we were off before we could distinctly see; 

 but the mules picked their way, and continually ascending 

 by a path covered with great stones, and impracticable 

 to any animal except a mule, we continued to follow the 

 course of the great stream, which was a torrent, roaring and 

 raging, and altogether impassable. 



The sufferings of the poor mules now attracted our at- 

 tention; they had travelled from Mendoza with but little 

 rest, and little food; still they required no driving, but 

 were evidently making every possible exertion to keep up 

 with the mule which carried the bell. Occasionally the 

 " carga" would require adjusting, and the peon, throwing 

 his poncho over the creature's eyes, would alter it, while 

 the rest continued their course, but the poncho was no 

 sooner removed, than the mule, trotting and braying, 

 joined the troop, never stopping till he came to the bell. 



On the road, the number of dead mules, which indeed 

 strew the path from Mendoza to Santiago, seemed to in- 

 crease, and it was painful to see the living ones winding 

 their path among the bones and carcasses of those who had 

 died of fatigue. By the peculiar effect of the climate, 

 most of these poor creatures were completely dry, and as 

 they lay on the road with their hind legs extended, and 

 their heads stretched towards their goal, it was evident, 

 from their attitudes, that they had all died of the same 

 complaint — the hill had killed them all. 



After passing one or two very rapid torrents, we came 

 to a mountain, which was one precipitous slope from the 

 top to the torrent beneath. About half way up, we saw 

 a troop of forty guanacos, who were all gazing at us with 

 great attention. They were on a path, or track, parallel 

 to the water, and as the side of the mountain was covered 

 with loose stones, we were afraid they would roll some of 

 them down upon us. 



On the opposite side of the water, was one of the most 

 singular geological formations which we had witnessed. 

 At the head of a ravine was an enormous perpendicular 



mountain of porphyry, broken into battlements and tur- 

 rets, which gave it exactly the appearance of an old castle, 

 on a scale, however, altogether the subject of a romance. 

 The broken front represented, in a most curious manner, 

 old fashioned windows and gates, and one of the Cornish 

 miners declared " he could see an old woman coming 

 across a drawbridge." 



As I was looking up at the region of snow, and as my 

 mule was scrambling along the steep side of the rock, the 

 capitaz overtook me, and asked me if I chose to come on, 

 as he was going to look at the " Ladera de las Vaccas," 

 to see if it was passable, before the mules came to it. * He 

 accordingly trotted on, and in half an hour we arrived at 

 the spot. It is the worst pass in the Cordillera. The 

 mountain above appears almost perpendicular, and in one 

 continued slope down to the rapid torrent which is raging 

 underneath. The surface is covered with loose earth and 

 stones which have been brought down by the water. The 

 path goes across this slope, and is very bad for about se- 

 venty yards, being only a few inches broad; but the point 

 of danger is a spot where the water which comes down 

 from the top of the mountain, either washes the path away, 

 or covers it over with loose stones. We rode over it, and 

 it certainly was very narrow and bad. In some places 

 the rock almost touches one shoulder, while the precipice 

 is immediately under the opposite foot, and high above the 

 head are a number of large loose stones, which apjjcar a 

 if the slightest touch would send them rolling into the to 

 rent beneath, which is foaming and rushing with gre; 

 violence. However, the danger to the rider is only ima 

 ginary, for the mules are so careful, and seem so well 

 aware of their situation, that there is no chance of their 

 making a false step. As soon as we had crossed the pass, 

 which is only seventy yards long, the capataz told me 

 that it was a very bad place for baggage-mules, that four 

 hundred had been lost there, and that we should also very 

 probably lose one; he said, that he would get down to the 

 water at a place about a hundred yards off, and wait there 

 with his lasso to catch any mule that might fall into the 

 torrent, and he requested me to lead on his mule. How- 

 ever, I was resolved to see the tumble, if there was to be 

 one, so the capataz took away my mule and his own, and 

 while I stood on a projecting rock at the end of the pass, 

 he scrambled down on foot, till he at last got to the level 

 of the water. 



The drove of mules now came in sight, one following 

 another; a few were carrying no burdens, but the rest 



• When first, from the melting of the snow, the Cordillera is 

 "open," this passage is always impassable; but it becomes broader 

 towards the end of summer. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



were either mounted or heavily laden, and as they wound 

 along the crooked path, the difference of colour in the 

 animals, the different colours and shapes of the baggage 

 they were carrying, with the picturesque dress of the 

 peons, who were vociferating the wild song by which they 

 drive on the mules, and the sight of the dangerous path 

 they had to cross, — formed altogether a very interesting 

 scene. 



As soon as the leading mule came to the commence- 

 ment of the pass, he stopped, evidently unwilling to pro- 

 ceed, and of course all the rest stopped also. 



He was the finest mule we had, and on that account 

 had twice as much to carry as any of the others; his load 

 had never been relieved, and it consisted of four portman- 

 teaus, two of which belonged to me, and which contained 

 not only a very heavy bag of dollars, but also papers which 

 were of such consequence that I could hardly have conti- 

 nued my journey without them. The peons now redou- 

 bled their cries, and leaning over the sides of their mules, 

 and picking up stones, threw them at the leading mule, 

 who now commenced his journey over the path. With 

 his nose to the ground, literally smelling his way, he 

 walked gently on, often changing the position of his feet, 

 if he found the ground would not bear, until he came to 

 the bad part of the pass, where he again stopped, and I 

 then certainly began to look with great anxiety at my 

 )ortmanteaus; but the peons again threw stones at him, 

 ■* id he continued his path, and reached me in safety ; 

 ;veral others followed. At last a young mule, carrying 

 ^ portmanteau, with two large sacks of provisions, and 

 bmany other things, in passing the bad point, struck his load 

 ("against the rock, which knocked his two hind legs over 

 the precipice, and the loose stones immediately began to 

 roll away from under them: however his fore-legs were 

 still upon the narrow path; he had no room to put his 

 head there, but he placed his nose on the path on his left, 

 and appeared to hold on by his mouth: his perilous fate 

 was soon decided by a loose mule who came, and in walk- 

 ing along after him, knocked his comrade's nose off the 

 path, destroyed his balance, and head over heels the poor 

 creature instantly commenced a fall which was really 

 quite terrific. With all his baggage firmly lashed to him, 

 he rolled down the steep slope, until he came to the part 

 which was perpendicular, and then he seemed to bound 

 off, and turning round in the air, fell into the deep torrent 

 on his back, and upon his baggage, and instantly disap- 

 peared. I thought, of course, that he was killed; but up 

 he rose, looking wild and scared, and immediately endea- 

 voured to stem the torrent which was foaming about him. 

 It was a noble effort; and for a moment he seemed to suc- 

 ceed, but the eddy suddenly caught the great load which 



was upon his back, and turned him completely over; down 

 went his head with all the baggage, and as he was carried 

 down the stream, all I saw were his hind quarters, and his 

 long, thin, wet tail, lashing the water. As suddenly, 

 however, up his head came again; but he was now weak, 

 and went down the stream, turned round and round by 

 the eddy, until, passing the corner of the rock, I lost 

 sight of him. I saw, however, the peons, with their lassos 

 in their hands, run down the side of the torrent for some 

 little distance; but they soon stopped, and after looking 

 towards the poor mule for some seconds, their earnest 

 attitude gradually relaxed, and when they walked towards 

 me, I concluded that all was over. I walked up to the 

 peons, and was just going to speak to them, when I saw at 

 a distance a solitary mule walking towards us! 



We instantly perceived that he was the Phaeton whose 

 fall we had just witnessed, and in a few moments he came 

 up to us to join his comrades. He was of course dripping 

 wet; his eye looked dull, and his whole countenance was 

 dejected: however, none of his bones were broken, he was 

 very little cut, and the bulletin of his health was altogether 

 incredible. 



With that surprising anxiety which the mules all have to 

 join the troop, or rather the leading mule which carries 

 the bell, he continued his course, and actually walked over 

 the pass without compulsion, although certainly with great 

 caution. 



We then continued our course for two hours, until we 

 came to the " Rio de las Vaccas," which is the most dan- 

 gerous torrent of any of those which are to be crossed. 

 We got through it with safety, but it was very deep, and 

 so excessively rapid, that large stones were rolled down it 

 with the force of the water. The mules are accustomed to 

 these torrents, but they are, notwithstanding, much fright- 

 ened at them, and it is only long spurs that can force them 

 into them. 



While we were crossing, the peons stood down the 

 stream, with their lassos hurling round their heads, in order 

 to catch anything which might have been carried away; 

 but as the boxes which I had seen washed from the mules 

 were dashed to pieces before they had got twenty yards, 

 the peon's lasso came a little too late; and besides this, as 

 the mule is their own property, I used sometimes to think 

 that, in the hurry and indecision of the moment, they would 

 probably catch him instead of the rider. 



When a large party cross this river, and when it is 

 deep, it is really amusing, after one has got across it, to 

 observe the sudden change of countenance of one's friends 

 as they ride through it; sometimes perched up on the top 

 of a fragment of rock barely covered, and expecting the 

 next step to be their last; and sometimes scrambling out of 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



a hole, with uplifted eye-brows, open mouth, and an ear- 

 nest expression of uneasiness and apprehension — and these 

 are really situations into which the traveller in the Andes 

 is often thrown, though they disconcert the gravity and 

 solemnity of his "Personal Narrative." — Head's Jour- 

 neys across the Pampas. 



GREAT HORNED-OWL. 

 STEIX VIRGINMNA. 



[Plate IL Vol. 2.] 



yflrct. Zool. p. 228, No. 114.— Edw. 60.— Lath, r, 119. 

 TuRT. Syst.p. 166. — Hibou des Terres Magellaniques, 

 Buff. — PI. Enl. 385. — Bubo Virginianus, Briss. i, 

 p. 484. — Strix F'irginiana, Ind. Orn. p. 52. — Gmel. 

 Syst. I, p. 287. — Virginian Eared Owl, Lath. Gen. 

 Syn. Supl. VI, p. 40. — J. Doughty's Collection. 



"This noted and formidable Owl," says Wilson, "is 

 found in almost every quarter of the United States. His 

 favourite residence, however, is in the dark solitudes of 

 deep swamps, covered with a growth of gigantic timber; 

 and here, as soon as evening draws on, and mankind re- 

 tire to rest, he sends forth such sounds, as seem scarcely 

 to belong to this world, startling the solitary pilgrim as he 

 slumbers by his forest fire, 



' Making night hideous.' 

 Along the mountainous shores of the Ohio, and amidst 

 the deep forests of Indiana, alone, and reposing in the 

 woods, this ghostly watchman frequently warned me of 

 the approach of morning, and amused me with his singular 

 exclamations; sometimes sweeping down and around my 

 fire, uttering a loud and sudden Waugh O! Waugh O! 

 sufficient to have alarmed a whole garrison. He has 

 other nocturnal solos, no less melodious, one of which 

 very strikingly resembles the half-suppressed screams of 

 a person suffocating, or throttled, and cannot fail of being 

 exceedingly entertaining to a lonely benighted traveller, 

 in the midst of an Indian wilderness. 



"This species inhabits the country round Hudson's 

 Bay; and, according to Pennant, who considers it a mere 

 variety of the Eagle Owl, (Strix bubo) of Europe, is 

 found in Kamtschatka; extends even to the arctic regions, 

 where it is often found white; and occurs as low as Astra- 

 kan. It has also been seen white in the United States; 

 but this has doubtless been owing to disease or natural 

 defect, and not to climate. It preys on young rabbits, 

 squirrels, rats, mice, partridges, and small birds of various 



D 



kinds. It has been often known to prowl about the farm- 

 house, and carry off chickens from the roost. A very 

 large one, wing-broken while on a foraging excursion of 

 this kind, was kept about a house for several days, and at 

 length disappeared, no one knew how. Almost every- 

 day after this, hens and chickens also disappeared, one by- 

 one, in an unaccountable manner, till in eight or ten days 

 very few were left remaining. The fox, the minx and 

 weasel, were alternately the reputed authors of this mis- 

 chief, until one morning, an old lady, rising before day 

 to bake, in passing towards the oven, surprised her late 

 prisoner the Owl, regaling himself on the body of a 

 newly killed hen. The thief instantly made for his hole 

 under the house, whence the enraged matron soon dis- 

 lodged him with the brush-handle, and without mercy- 

 despatched him. In this snug retreat were found the 

 greater part of the feathers, and many large fragments, of 

 her whole family of chickens. 



"There is something in the character of the Owl so 

 recluse, solitary and mysterious, something so discordant 

 in the tones of its voice, heard only amid the silence and 

 gloom of night, and in the most lonely and sequestered 

 situations, as to have strongly impressed the minds of 

 mankind in general with sensations of awe, and abhor- 

 rence of the whole tribe. The poets have indulged freely 

 in this general prejudice; and in their descriptions and 

 delineations of midnight storms, and gloomy scenes of 

 nature, the Owl is generally introduced to heighten the 

 horror of the picture. Ignorance and superstition, in all 

 ages, and in all countries, listen to the voice of the Owl, and 

 even contemplate its physiognomy with feelings of dis- 

 gust, and a kind of fearful awe. The priests, or conjurers, 

 among some of our Indian nations, have taken advantage of 

 the reverential horror for this bird, and have adopted the 

 Great Horned-Owl, the subject of the present account, 

 as the symbol or emblem of their office. 'Among the 

 Creeks, 'says Mr. Bartram, 'the junior priests, or students, 

 constantly wear a white mantle, and have a Great Owl 

 skin cased and stuffed very ingeniously, so well executed 

 as almost to appear like the living bird, having large 

 sparkling glass beads, or buttons, fixed in the head for 

 eyes. This insignia of wisdom and divination they wear 

 sometimes as a crest on the top of the head; at other 

 times the image sits on the arm, or is borne on the hand. 

 These bachelors are also distinguished from the other 

 people by their taciturnity, grave and solemn countenance, 

 dignified step, and singing to themselves songs or hymns 

 in a low, sweet voice, as they stroll about the town.' 



"Nothing is a more effectual cure for superstition than 

 a knowledge of the general laws and productions of nature; 

 nor more forcibly leads our reflections to the first, great 




14 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



self-existent cAtrsE.of all, to whom our reverential awe 

 is then humbly devoted, and not to any of his dependent 

 creatures. With all the gloomy habits, and ungracious 

 tones, of the Owl, there is nothing in this bird supernatu- 

 ral or mysterious, or more than that of a simple bird of 

 prey, formed for feeding by night, like many other ani- 

 mals, and of reposing by day. The harshness of its voice, 

 occasioned by the width and capacity of its throat, may be 

 intended by heaven as an alarm and warning to the birds 

 and animals on which it preys, to secure themselves from 

 danger. The voices of all carnivorous birds and animals 

 are also observed to be harsh and hideous, probably for 

 this very purpose. 



"The Great Horned-Owl is not migratory, but remains 

 with us the whole year. During the day he slumbers in 

 the thick evergreens of deep swamps, or seeks shelter in 

 large hollow trees. He is very rarely seen abroad by 

 day, and never but when disturbed.* In the month of 

 May they usually begin to build. The nest is generally 

 placed in the fork of a tall tree, and is constructed of 

 sticks, piled in considerable quantities, lined with dry 

 leaves, and a few feathers. Sometimes they choose a 

 hollow tree, and in that case carry in but few materials. 

 The female lays four eggs, nearly as large as those of a 

 hen, almost globular, and of a pure white. In one of 

 these nests, after the young had flown, were found the 

 heads and bones of two chickens, the legs and head of 

 the Golden-winged Woodpecker, and part of the wings 

 and feathers of several other birds. It is generally con- 

 jectured that they hatch but once in the season. 



"The length of the male of this species is twenty 

 inches; the bill is large, black and strong, covered at the 

 base with a cere; the eyes golden yellow; the horns are 

 three inches in length, and very broad, consisting of 

 twelve or fourteen feathers, their webs black, broadly 

 edged with bright tawny; face rusty, bounded on each 

 side by a band of black; space between the eyes and bill 

 whitish; whole lower parts elegantly marked with numer- 

 ous transverse bars of dusky, on a bright tawny ground, 

 thinly interspersed with white; vent pale yellow ochre, 

 barred with narrow lines of brown; legs and feet large and 

 covered with feathers, or hairy down, of a pale brown 

 colour; claws very large, blue black; tail rounded, extend- 

 ing about an inch beyond the tips of the wings, crossed 

 with six or seven narrow bars of brown, and variegated 

 or marbled with brown and tawny; whole upper parts 

 finely pencilled with dusky, on a tawny and whitish 



* One day last summer, about noon, I discovered one of these Owls 

 feeding on a rabbi;, wliicb it had just caught, in a very retired wood 

 in the lower part of New-Jersey; from wliich circumstance I sup- 

 posed they frequently seize their prey in the day time. — Ep. 



ground; chin pure white, under that a band of brown, 

 succeeded by another narrow one of white; eyes very 

 large. 



"The female is full two feet in length, and has not the 

 white on the throat so pure. She has also less of the bright 

 ferruginous or tawny tint below; but is principally dis- 

 tinguished by her superior magnitude." 



" It is during the placid serenity of a beautiful summer 

 night," says Mr. Audubon, " when the current of the 

 waters moves silently along, reflecting from its smooth 

 surface the silver radiance of the moon, and when all else 

 of animated nature seems sunk in repose, that the Great 

 Horned-Owl, one of the Nimrods of the feathered tribes of 

 our forests, may be seen sailing along silently, yet rapidly, 

 intent on the destruction of the objects destined to form his 

 food. The lone steersman of the descending boat observes 

 the nocturnal hunter, gliding on extended pinions across 

 the river, sailing over one hill and then another, or sud- 

 denly sweeping downwards, and again rising in the air 

 like a moving shadow, now distinctly seen, and again 

 mingling with the sombre shades of the surrounding 

 woods, fading into obscurity. The bark has now floated 

 to some distance, and is opposite the newly cleared 

 patch of ground the result of a squatter's first attempt at 

 cultivation, in a place lately shaded by the trees of the 

 forest. The moon shines brightly on his hut, his slight 

 fence, the newly planted orchard, and a tree, which, spared 

 by the axe, serves as a roosting-place for the scanty stock 

 of poultry which the new comer has procured from some 

 liberal neighbour. Amongst them rests a Turkey-hen, 

 covering her offspring with extended wings. The Great 

 Owl, with eyes keen as those of any falcon, is now seen 

 hovering above the place. He has already espied the 

 quarry, and is sailing in wide circles, meditating his plan 

 of attack. The Turkey-hen, which at another time might 

 be sound asleep, is now, however, so intent on the care of 

 her young brood, that she rises on her legs, and purs so 

 loudly, as she opens her wings and spreads her tail, that 

 she rouses her neighbours, the hens, together with their 

 protector. The cacklings which they at first emit, soon 

 become a general clamour. The squatter hears the uproar, 

 and is on his feet in an instant, rifle in hand; the priming 

 examined, he gently pushes open his half closed door, and 

 peeps out cautiously, to ascertain the cause by which his 

 repose has been disturbed. He observes the murderous 

 Owl just alighting on the dead branch of a tall tree, when, 

 raising his never-failing rifle, he takes aim, touches the 

 trigger, and the next instant sees the foe falling dead to 

 the ground. The bird is unworthy of farther attention, 

 and is left a prey to some prowling opossum, or other car- 

 nivorous quadruped." 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



THE VARIETY OF GAME IN NEW-JERSEY. 



There is perhaps no spot in the United States, of the 

 same area as the State of New-Jersey, which so abounds 

 in the variety of game common to this country; certainly 

 there is not, in any civilized or cultivated neighbourhood 

 in any part of our widely extended continent, a place 

 where the sportsman and naturalist may resort, the one 

 for recreation, and the other for science, and so fully enjoy 

 the objects of their pursuit as in the small, but interesting 

 state of New-Jersey. 



In the successive seasons for shooting, a great plentitude 

 of game may be found in all parts of this state, and no 

 sooner does the genial influence of the opening spring 

 spread its beneficial effects, than this region is among the 

 first to be hailed by the carols of the many warblers, 

 which commence their northern migration; and for Orni- 

 thological research, it always has been esteemed one of 

 the best districts on the continent. Of the variety which 

 enters the catalogue of game in this country, the follow- 

 ing may be found in the state of New-Jersey. 



Snipe. In ISIarch, and until their final migration to the 

 north in May, all the low lands abound with these birds, 

 but especially the meadows along the water courses. 

 They are occasionally found through the summer, but 

 return again in numbers from the north in September and 

 October, and remain a short period previous to their flight 

 for winter quarters in the south. 



JFoodcock. It is well known to most of the sportsmen 

 in the cities of New- York and Philadelphia, that Wood- 

 cock abound throughout every part of this state. The 

 soil appears peculiarly adapted to the habits of these birds; 

 being soft, and free from stones and other hard substances, 

 is every way suited for their long and flexible bills to 

 penetrate in search of food free from obstruction. It is 

 the favourite place of resort for sportsmen when in search 

 of Woodcock, in preference to any other ground, as their 

 success is generally twofold more here than in other places. 

 On the low lands west of New-York, and those meadows 

 in the interior of the state, known generally by the name 

 of " Atsion Meadows," as well as those extensive low 

 lands which bound the Delaware, commencing a few miles 

 below Philadelphia, and running south for twenty or 

 thirty miles, are places in which multitudes of these birds 

 are destroyed, during the regular seasons for sporting. I 

 have heard of a party of two or three gentlemen, on some 

 spot in the former place, having killed, in one day, up- 

 wards of eighty Woodcock; and but recently, I was in- 

 formed by a gentleman, who formed one of a party on a 

 fourth of July excursion, that on a very small spot of a few 

 acres, in Salem county, as many as one hundred and fifty 



had been killed during that day, and numbers more on the 

 same spot the day succeeding. Certain it is, that an ex- 

 cursion to any good spot of ground in this state, is seldom 

 unsuccessful. 



The Quail, or Partridge. This state appears to be the 

 settled home for this most interesting of all birds. Of the 

 great variety of birds which every where abounds through- 

 out New-Jersey, none appears so much attached to its soil, 

 as this innocent bird. Other birds, as the seasons change, 

 depart for distant climes; but the Partridge is ever to be 

 found in this region; and when not persecuted by sports- 

 men, it becomes so accustomed to the sight of men, as to 

 make it half domesticated. Whatever scarcity prevails 

 generally in other districts, this well-known bird may 

 always be found here. Perched on a stump, or on the 

 fence, beneath the shade of an apple tree, at the close of a 

 sultry summer's day, the male bird sends forth those clear, 

 expressive, and familiar words, ''■Bob White," which 

 awaken so many pleasing recollections of the past, and 

 enlivening anticipations of the future, that it is ever a wel- 

 come visitor. These notes, too, proclaim that "Seed 

 time and harvest have come" — for they occur only during 

 those months. The many uncultivated parts; the exten- 

 sive tracts of bush land, and the numerous swamps, all 

 afibrd so much protection to the Partridge from the many 

 enemies which beset them on every side. Indeed it ap- 

 pears constituted by nature as a place of repose where 

 their kind may most freely propagate. 



The Buffed Grouse, or Pheasant. Among the pines 

 and laurel hills, may be found sometimes in numbers, the 

 Pheasant. How often in his solitary rambles through the 

 wood, when the mind is intensely fixed on other objects, 

 is the passenger startled with a loud, whirring noise, like 

 distant thunder, which makes his flesh fairly crawl! — it 

 is this shy and most difficult of all birds to shoot, flee- 

 ing the face of man as its great adversary. I have, in 

 September and October, seen these birds in flocks of fiom 

 six to sixteen. I well recollect, in the fall of 1824, start- 

 ing, one after another, fourteen Plieasants from a large grape 

 vine, which grew immediately opposite Philadelphia, on 

 the edge of a thicket, well known to the sportsmen of the 

 neighbourhood by the name of " Kaign's Swamp;" but I 

 have seen them in greater abundance on the lofty hills of 

 East Jersey, in my rambles after game. They are diffi- 

 cult birds to kill, not only from the exceeding velocity of 

 their flight, but by their seeking the most dense and diffi- 

 cult thickets, and their well-known stratagem of running 

 some distance first, and then flying off in an opposite di- 

 rection from the sportsman. 



Pinnated Grouse. The barrens of Gloucester, and other 

 counties of this stale, have been the most celebrated 




16 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



grounds, east of the Alleghany, for this chief of our fea- 

 thered game. In former jears they were in great abun- 

 dance on these barren grounds, which were then visited by 

 old and scientific sportsmen, who regarded the laws of 

 shooting, as well for example as from principle, — and mul- 

 titudes fell beneath the unerring aim of manj^ gentlemen, 

 who themselves are now numbered with the dead. But 

 lately, through great persecution, by those who have no 

 claims to the principles which constitute sportsmen, and 

 who visit these grounds months before the season for shoot- 

 ing commences by law, and while the birds are in an un- 

 fledged state, the Grouse are driven from this favourite 

 abode, to seek shelter in other and more retired spots 

 among the mountains. 



Year after year has this unhallowed persecution of the 

 Grouse been carried on, until the species has been almost 

 exterminated from the state. Of what satisfaction can it 

 be to a man who claims the character of a sportsman, to de- 

 stroy in numbers birds so young as to be useless for the 

 table, and possessing so little energy and power to fly, that 

 an ordinary missile would answer the purpose to kill them 

 as well as the gun; and that, too, so early in the season, 

 that the heat creates putrefaction, and renders them unfit 

 to bring home, and our soi disant sportsmen have no other 

 evidence of their success, than the boasting which usually 

 is so strong a feature in the characters of such persons? 

 Is it not more praiseworthy to bring down, in sportsman- 

 like manner, one full grown bird, powerful on the wing, 

 in October, than a score of young, squeaking birds, unable 

 even to top the scrub oaks, for want of feathers and 

 strength to support them? 



Babbits. Of the abundance of these animals, every one 

 seems aware; and although they do not rank in our cata- 

 logue as game, yet numbers find their way to the diSerent 

 markets, and by many are eagerly sought as a luxury. 

 But to a certain description of gunners they afford much 

 amusement; and in the absence of other species of game, 

 the sportsman may divert his leisure hours, and find recrea- 

 tion frequently in hunting Rabbits. It often occurs, that a 

 party of but few persons, will, without much fatigue, kill 

 from thirty to fiftj- of these animals in a single day. 



Foxes. Of the variety of hunting in New-Jersey, less 

 appears to be done after Foxes than other animals, although 

 in great abundance in every part of the state. In East 

 Jersey, they are yet hunted in the laudable, old-fashioned 

 style, on horseback; but in the western part of the state, 

 this appears, of late years, to be relinquished altogether; 

 more, perhaps, from the difficult land to ride over, being 

 generally covered with thickets and brushwood. And it 

 is only towards the holydays, that here and there a few 

 neighbours congregate for a Fox hunt, with horses, dogs, 



guns, &c. and altogether in a most unsportsmanlike way of 

 hunting. The gunners, however, at Cape May, appear to 

 have a mode adapted peculiarly to their neighbourhood, 

 of hunting '< Sly Reynard," which is chiefly on small 

 islands, situated on the sea-side, and separated considera- 

 bly from the main land. On some of these islands, the 

 Foxes are in great abundance, for hither they resort for the 

 variety of food which may at all times be found along the 

 margin of the sea, such as crabs, muscles, clams, gull's 

 eggs, young birds, &c., and, as the covering consists of 

 high grass, weeds, and a species of bush common to these 

 islands, and being altogether uninhabited, the Foxes pro- 

 pagate in numbers here, and at particular seasons afford 

 fine sport to the inhabitants along the sea shore. The 

 thickest cover grows on a ridge in the centre of these 

 islands, from which, to the water's edge, and where the 

 tide ebbs and flows, forms a clear space. Consequently, 

 when a party is made up, to hunt the Foxes, one or two 

 drives the centre, with dogs, while others of the party are 

 stationed with guns, at distances from each other to the 

 end of the island, and shoot successively as the Foxes pass 

 them. And here the manners and cunning of the animal 

 are often fully displayed; for frequently, when pursued by 

 the hounds, which go by scent altogether, the Foxes, to 

 avoid them, will run into the surf, and by keeping near 

 the edge of the water, as the breakers roll over the sand, 

 all the scent is effaced by the water, and the hounds are 

 disconcerted. But few, however, with all their artfulness, 

 escape, as the stationed gunners are ready at every point 

 to receive them, and in this way many are killed. 



Deer. Nothing is more common in the western part 

 of New-Jersey, than deer hunting in the months of Octo- 

 ber, November and December, and it is scarcely credible, 

 that in a country so thickly populated as is this state, and 

 so adjacent to the city of Philadelphia, that such herds of 

 these animals may be found; multitudes are killed every 

 fall in the counties of IMonmouth, Burlington, Cumberland 

 and Cape May. I have been on hunting excursions, 

 wherein ten or twelve Deer have been started in a single 

 drive. 



The manner of hunting these animals is by still shoot- 

 ing, or at stands. All the persons who compose the party, 

 (except one or two, who act as drivers,) depart for dis- 

 tant places, designated as the stands for each hunter, 

 and here they remain until what is termed, "the drive is 

 out." These stands, generally, are on knolls of land in the 

 wood, or in roads, and Deer-paths, which continually 

 intersect the region where these hunts take place, and ai-e 

 generally selected by experienced hunters, as places where 

 the Deer have repeatedly crossed during the night season. 

 After sufficient time is allowed for the individuals of the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



17 



party to reach their respective stands, the drivers, with 

 their :hounds, commence a few miles distant, and drive 

 directly towards some of the stands, and in this way it 

 occurs, that as many as five or six Deer are put in motion, 

 which being pursued by the hounds, take diffei-ent direc- 

 tions, and in running off very frequently pass the hunters 

 at their stands, and often fall victims to these artifices of 

 their enemies. The gun employed generally is the double 

 gun, charged with from twelve to twenty buckshot. 



Bears. It not unfrequently happens, that Bears are 

 killed in the lower part of this state; indeed, every season 

 furnishes some sport of this kind to the inhabitants of the 

 lower counties. Latterly, they have increased in such 

 numbers in particular neighbourhoods, as to become pests 

 to the farmers, and as beach and chesnuts are rare in that 

 part of New- Jersey, other articles of food must necessarily 

 supply the deficiency of this mast for the Bears; conse- 

 quently, they make frequent inroads on the corn-fields, 

 hogstyes, and sheep-folds, and during the present fall, 

 numbers are suspected to be residents of Cape May county, 

 where many hogs and sheep have already been killed by 

 them. And but a few days since, I was informed by a 

 gentleman, who was returning from^ Cape May to Phila- 

 delphia, that while crossing a large swamp a few miles from 

 Tuckahoe, he saw two full grown Bears in the public high- 

 way. 



This part of New-Jersey afibrds fine shelter for Bears: 

 the interminable pines, extensive cedar swamps, and other 

 immense thickets, are well adapted to shelter them from 

 successful pursuit, and protect them in their torpid state, 

 during the inclemencies of winter. Now and then, how- 

 ever, some of these animals, possessing more temerity 

 than their fellows, wander too far from their seclusion, and 

 approach so near the settlements, that they are shot. A 

 few years since a coloured man, who resided in Cape May 

 county, shouldered his musket, and, accompanied by his 

 hounds, entered a large pine swamp in search of deer. 

 He had not proceeded far, before his dogs gave tongue, as 

 he supposed, on the track of a deer, and after following 

 the sounds for some distance he came up to his dogs, which 

 appeared to have something at bay. Approaching more 

 near, he discovered, sitting very unconcernedly, midway 

 up a fallen pine tree, (which had lodged against another 

 tree,) a large Black Bear. After eyeing Bruin for some 

 time, and hesitating whether to shoot it or not, or per- 

 haps afraid to make an attack single-handed, our adven- 

 turer concluded it the safer part to return home for more 

 assistance, which he accordingly did; but on coming back 

 with reinforcement, he met the dogs, and found that the 

 Bear had made off, and thereby lost a chance of success- 

 fully signalizing himself, as his musket was heavily loaded 

 E 



with buck-shot. Not so with old ]\Ir. Fincli and his son 

 John. These celebrated hunters, so well known to the 

 inhabitants of West Jersey, had been scouring some large 

 swamps for deer, when the son entered a dense thicket, 

 with the hope of arousing and shooting a deer; but the first 

 animal he encountered was a Bear, which he immediately 

 shot, and, to his surprise, up sprung a second; this he at- 

 tacked with his musket; but before he could despatch it, 

 a third came to its assistance, which proved to be the 

 mother of both of the former. Here our hunter was in a 

 "straight betwixt two" — but, nothing daunted, he bela- 

 boured both so manfully with his musket, and calling at 

 the same time to his father, that he succeeded in repelling 

 their attacks, until the old man came up, who shot the 

 mother, and they jointly despatched the third. 



Water Fmol. For the multitudes of Water Fowl, it is 

 only necessary at this season of the year, and until spring, to 

 visit the sea-side of New-Jersey, from Cape May to the 

 highlands of Neversink. Here the shores teem with mil- 

 lions, forming almost every variety of Water Birds, of 

 which our continent can boast, such as Snipes, Plovers, 

 Ducks, Brant, Geese, Swans, and sometimes Pelicans, and 

 nearly all the Heron kind. Hither resort numbers of gun- 

 ners, during the season of shooting, who press to the noted 

 points, across which, thousands of these Water Fowl pass, 

 in their migratory movements, and the success attending 

 such excursions, is almost incredible. The inland fresh 

 water ponds, too, of Cape May, are visited by numbers, 

 chiefly of the Black Duck, at which places, gunners lay 

 in ambush, and on the approach of the Sea Fowl to feed in 

 the ponds, open a most destructive fire among the flocks, 

 whereby hundreds are killed. The most noted points for 

 shooting Ducks appear to be Squan, Manahawkin, Somers' 

 Point, and the neighbourhood of Cape May Court-House, 

 as well as points adjacent to these. 



Thus, when we survey a district so replete with animals, 

 which invite from neighbouring cities and states multitudes 

 of sportsmen, we cannot help admiring the wisdom of the 

 Legislature of New-Jersey, in enacting such laws, as will 

 not only protect their own rights from aggression, but the 

 innocent objects of their charge from undue destruction. 

 Game has always been the special care of many govern- 

 ments of the earth; and it is unnecessary to recur to the 

 severity of the laws of Great Britain on this head, to 

 prove the estimation in which game is there held; suffice it 

 to say, that the punishment for their violation, is among 

 the most severe of the penal code of England. I be- 

 lieve, however, that New-Jersey is the only state in 

 the Union, wherein the law affects the whole state. 

 Other states have enacted laws, only to suit particular 

 counties within their borders, upon the request of the 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



inhabitants, petitioning for the protection of the game of 

 their neighbourhood. These laws are only noxioas to un- 

 principled gunners, for, the man wlio hunts for recreation, 

 and is satisfied with a moderate quantity of game, is ever 

 pleased with wholesome laws; and such can mostly find a 

 welcome among the farmers of the hospitable state of 

 New-Jersey at all times, when the objects of his sport are 

 not wantonly destroyed, and his privileges abused by un- 

 gentlemanly conduct. I. 



New- Jersey, January 4, 1832. 



From the New-England Galaxy. 



SOME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A 



SPORTSMAN. 



It has been wisely said by men of olden time, that a 

 poet must be a poet by birth, and that no education can 

 communicate to him that inspiration which nature herself 

 has neglected to infuse into his mind. It is not our pro- 

 vince at this time to support or deny the truth of this posi- 

 tion, but simply to advance another, viz. that a sportsman 

 also is such only by birth. The propensity to indulge in 

 lield-sports, must develope itself in his very childhood; it 

 must be to him as a sort of second nature; it must be a free, 

 spontaneous impulse, which cannot be resisted or con- 

 trolled ; which shall lead the mind imperceptibly to fasten 

 itself upon the enjoyments to be received in the fields, or 

 on the flood; and render the body impatient and comfort- 

 less when restrained from its favourite pursuit. 



We are firmly satisfied of the correctness of this belief, 

 from observing how very decided is the aversion to field- 

 sports in one part of the community, while the other is 

 equally sincere in its love for them. And this dislike, or 

 this partiality, does not appear to vary, in any one indivi- 

 dual, in their degrees of strength; but in nearly every in- 

 stance, continue the same at all times, — undergoing no 

 material alteration. If they do suffer change, the par- 

 tiality is only confirmed, and the dislike augmented. 



Our own fondness for Sporting, first manifested itself 

 in an ardent love for Angling. And here we would re- 

 mark, that we shall employ the term Sporting, as equally 

 applicable to the use of the rod as the gun. Our first 

 acquaintance with the rod, (we mean the angling \oi^,) 

 commenced during our school-boy days, and bears even 

 date with our earliest and happiest recollections. It was 

 then our chief, and only unalloyed amusement, and served 

 to sweeten many a tedious task, and many a heavy hour of 

 scholastic slavery. If at any time we were degraded to 

 the foot of the class, and our head disgraced with that vile 



badge, the "fool's cap," we would console ourself with 

 the delightful reminiscences of the rod and line, and com- 

 fort ourself accordingly. If at any time the master's rod 

 visited upon our poor back the iniquities and deficiencies 

 of the head which surmounted it, that same head would be 

 busily at work, with delicious thoughts of a much longer 

 and less painful rod, and compensate thereby the poor 

 body for the anguish it had caused it. If a neglected 

 lesson occasioned a temporary imprisonment in a dark 

 room, our fancy would beguile the dreary hours, and 

 chase away the gloom, with the anticipated Saturday af- 

 ternoon, and the overflowing basket of shining fish. 



But our reminiscences of those holidays, are overcast by 

 one gloomy cloud, which will for ever remain above the 

 horizon of our existence, and will cast its shadow upon 

 many bright hours to come, as it has done on many a 

 blessed hour that has past and gone. The thought of the 

 painful accident which we are about to record, will often 

 obtrude itself upon our mind when its reception is least, 

 welcome and least anticipated. In the very midst of our 

 pleasure and hilarity, it will mingle itself with our 

 thoughts, like the abrupt visitation of death into a happy 

 and rejoicing family circle. 



Charley our earliest friend and school-mate, was 



a noble, high-spirited little fellow, with a thousand good 

 qualities, and no evil ones, that ever we could discover. 

 He seemed to acquire the most difficult task as if by intui- 

 tion, and while we were slowly bungling over its first pa- 

 ragraph, he would nimbly run it through to the end, and 

 then lend a helping hand to extricate his friend from the 

 quagmire of learning. He was in short a kind of admira- 

 ble Critchon, and sustained the lead in every thing. He 

 was not only the best scholar, but also the staunchest 

 champion, the fleetest runner, and, (what I considered to 

 be the most praiseworthy,) the most adroit angler in school. 

 Some how or other he seemed to exercise a charmed influ- 

 ence over the fish, for they would at times, leap at his 

 hook with avidity, while they would turn up their honoura- 

 ble noses at our own, as if they scorned to perish by any 

 other hand than his. 



One bright Saturday afternoon in Summer, we were 

 together as usual, at our old fishing-station, under the an- 

 cient rope-walks (now removed) at the foot of the Com- 

 mon, regardless of every thing in the universe, excepting 

 the glorious nibbles which were constantly twitching the 

 buoys of our lines under water. The prey was uncom- 

 monly plenty, and we protracted our diversion hour after 

 hour, till at length the evening shadows that began to 

 creep densely over the waves, admonished us to be gone. 

 We were in the very act of departing, when to my unut- 

 terable agony, I heard one heart-rending scream, a plunge 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



19 



into the water, — and poor Charley was lost for ever. The 

 tide was then coming in, and every instant increasing; 

 there was no help at hand, and we were both unable to 

 swim. The agony of horror condensed into that one little 

 moment, cannot be conceived or expressed in volumes. 

 It seemed, that if the sum of a whole life of misery, were 

 united in one wretched instant, it could not have inflicted 

 more intense torture than I then felt. I looked on the dark- 

 ening and turbulent waters, as they hurried along, and saw 

 the supplicating agony of his upcast look, and the convul- 

 sive motion of his limbs, as he struggled with the elements, 

 and without pausing to consider the consequences of 'the 

 act, plunged in, in the vain attempt to seize the arm that 

 was slowly sinking away from my sight; but it eluded my 

 eager hand, and his cry for help was choked by the angry 

 waters, for ever. I had fortunately retained my grasp on 

 the low timbers on which we had been standing at the time 

 of the accident, and to this circumstance I owed my own 

 preservation. I immediately raised an alarm, and search 

 was speedily made with the aid of lanterns, but the body of 

 poor Charley continued to slumber that night in the bosom 

 of the billows. On the morrow it was discovered, and 

 followed to its narrow habitation by his sorrowing school- 

 mates, but none followed the little coffin with such a burst- 

 ing and heavy heart, as did the one who has endeavoured 

 to record the event. 



The natives of old Massachusetts seem to possess a natu- 

 ral fondness for field sports; and as the old musket which 

 hangs over the ingle in the farmer's kitchen, is transmitted 

 from sire to son, and in this manner successively passes 

 into the hands of many generations, so also the ardent in- 

 clination to use it, is transmitted with it. As the venera- 

 ble old man sits in the centre of his children, at the win- 

 ter fire-side, and suffering his memory to return to the 

 days of his youth, recounts to them the glories and the 

 hardships of his Revolutionary adventures, his finger natu- 

 rally points to the time-worn weapon which occupies the 

 peg over the mantel, and which was his companion in 

 many a bloody field. Then docs his eye kindle again with 

 the martial spark, which the lapse of half a century has 

 been unable to extinguish, as he remembers the day when 

 he left his plough in the furrow of his father's field, and 

 shouldered his musket, and hurried away to have a shot at 

 the red-coats at Lexington. Then does his aged bosom 

 throb with excitement, as he calls to mind that bright 

 morning when with hands trembling with ardour, he 

 buckled his little knapsack to his shoulder, and hastened 

 away with his father and brethren to fight under the eye 

 of old Putnam, at Bunker Hill. He relates, with almost 

 childish exultation, how that, hour after hour he continued 

 to blaze away at the regulars, till at length not a cartridge 



remained in his box, and the point of his bayonet, and the 

 butt of his musket, were his only means of defence. With 

 that same well-tried weapon, and animated by the same 

 patriotic spirit, he followed his darling Washington 

 through the glorious wars of the Revolution, and shared 

 in the perils of Yorktown, Trenton, Monmouth, Benning- 

 ton, Ticonderoga, White-Plains, and Stony Point. 



If you enter any remote farm-house, embosomed amidst 

 deep woods and lonely hills, you will find ancient mus- 

 kets, and fowling-pieces, deposited in every corner, and 

 the huge powder-horn, and rudely-fashioned shot-belts, 

 depending from the wall. You will see, also, as trophies 

 of rustic skill, huge antlers of the deer, displayed with an 

 ostentatious pride by the honest farmer, and the skin of 

 the fox, or the body of the crow and hawk, nailed, in 

 ferroreni, against the broad barn-door. The former of 

 these is transmitted as a family heir-loom, and is valued 

 accordingly, and is pointed out by the sire to the son, 

 with much pardonable pride, as the relic of a noble species 

 of game, often pursued and conquered in the days of his 

 youth; but now, like the Indian race, nearly exterminated, 

 and unknown in the land. 



In the secluded villages of New-England, every farmer's 

 son, (over two, and under seven feet in altitude,) is the 

 owner of a rod and gun, with the former of which he scam- 

 pers away to the neighbouring river, and with the latter 

 to the surrounding woods, whenever he can elude the old 

 man's eye, or at such times as he can lawfully call his 

 own, after the labours of seed-time or harvest have been 

 completed. Their intimate familiarity with every retired 

 path in the forests, and every tangled glade on the hill-side, 

 usually renders them successful, if not adroit sportsmen. Not- 

 withstanding the wretched state of their equipments, they 

 will often contrive to hag game superior in quality to thai 

 which falls to the share of a crack sportsman, over the same 

 grounds. It is not a little curious to observe the very differ- 

 ent results of their respective exertions, after a comparison 

 of the means and appointments of the two parties, differing 

 as they do, toto ccrIo. 



The one, for instance, is followed by a pointer, a setter, 

 or spaniel of approved breed; and the other by a nondescript 

 little cur, whose parentage would defy the most practised ge- 

 nealogist in canine pedigree to trace; the one carried a thirty- 

 two inch double-barrel, bearing the stamp of a foreign Man- 

 ton, or a domestic Bishop, while the other groans under an 

 unwieldy piece of artillery, as long as a steeple, and which 

 cannot be sustained without the aid of a rest; the one is pro- 

 vided with the choicest Lady-Johnson, or Dupont, and 

 with shot of the right numlier, — while the other employs 

 a vile compound which is slow to ignite, and even after 

 that much-desired event takes place, burns with the tardy 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



alacrity of a "wet fuze." He uses at the same time, by 

 way of shot, certain pellets of lead, consisting of goose 

 and mustard shot, mixed indiscriminately, with a small 

 sprinkling of slugs, pebbles, and broken nails. Yet, with 

 all these disadvantages, the rustic fowler accomplishes mi- 

 racles, and after disposing of a portion of his spoils to his 

 less fortunate rival, returns home at evening covered with 

 feathers and glory. 



If, indeed, his war-worn weapon holds, in many cases, 

 its proprietor in suspense, by its habit of hanging fire, it 

 does explode at last, and rarely misses its aim. The wea- 

 pon, like poor human nature itself, has its faults as well as 

 its virtues, which serve to counterbalance each other. 

 Among the most prominent of the former is a vicious 

 propensity to recoil, to upset the youthful musketeer, and 

 in suffering the charge to escape in about equal propor- 

 tions at the breech and at the muzzle; one half of which in 

 fact singes the eyebrows of the shooter, and the remainder 

 the feathers of the shootee. So also the little beast which 

 accompanies him, has its good as well as its evil qualities, 

 and although it scampers through tlie bushes without the 

 direction of either training, reason, or instinct, it often 

 contrives to stumble upon the covey or the quarry, which 

 the nose of the more systematic pointer had not detected. 

 One reason, perhaps, which may be assigned for the dif- 

 ferent success of these two classes of sportsmen, is that the 

 less scrupulous one is anxious to destroy as much life as 

 possible, and believing that all is fair in sporting as in war 

 and politics, he fires into a full covey before they have 

 taken wing, and, in his desire to husband his scanty stock 

 of ammunition, generally contrives to creep so near, that 

 lie kills a large portion of them at a single shot. He does 

 not scruple in taking advantage of any and all means, fair 

 or foul, that may aid him in the attainment of his ends. He 

 has no respect, moreover, to the factitious rules of sports- 

 men, for the preservation of game, and believing that one 

 bird in the bag is worth a score in the bush, he slays with- 

 out distinction both young and old. But the more scienti- 

 fic sportsman observes certain legal rules, and obeys those 

 nice restrictions established by his craft, and shoots only 

 at proper times, and even then scorns to fire except at a 

 bird upon the wing, and carefully avoids striking any 

 that are not in season. Many species of game which 

 would scarcely escape from our rustic friend, would be dis- 

 regarded by him as unworthy of his aim. 



And here, we have a few remarks to make in relation to 

 Sporting Dogs, which may be properly introduced in this 

 connexion. The breed of valuable animals of this de- 

 scription with us, has been much improved during the last 

 three or four years, owing to the importation of them from 

 England and Spain. Valuable animals are annually increas- 



ing, while those of a spurious kind are in equal proportion 

 disappearing. The hue and cry raised against poor Tray 

 last summer, about the period of the dog-day panic, ope- 

 rated severely against the more ordinary species of ani- 

 mals. Poor Tray and his brethren being unapprised of 

 the proscriptive edict which had issued against them, and 

 their natural guardians taking no precautions for their pre- 

 servation, it naturally followed, that they were kidnapped 

 by the cart-load, and despatched by the axe or the bow- 

 string, without the merciful interposition of jury and ver- 

 dict. They were adjudged guilty, (by every brutal boy 

 in the street,) forasmuch as they were taken at large, with- 

 out the specified collar, and within the prohibited period, 

 and were executed without further ceremony. Dogs of a 

 better description, on the contrary, were carefully pre- 

 served from the snare laid for them, and by being deprived 

 of their liberty, escaped with their lives. 



And now, when the " dog-star" no longer rages, and the 

 mercury falls below cipher, one would naturally suppose 

 that this persecuted race might enjoy an interregnum of 

 quiet. But poor Tray is unfortunately considered a de- 

 sirable subject for medical investigation and surgical skill, 

 and is (we are led to think) ambushed, scalped, electrified, 

 anatomized, galvanized, and we know not what else, when- 

 ever his evil fortune throwshim into the powerof theenemy. 

 We warn ye all, therefore. Dash, Rake, Duff, Tray, Towser. 

 Lion, Argus, Pluto, and the rest, to keep "a bright eye," 

 and beware of all persons having a medical look, or you 

 will be conveyed away by ruthless hands, and immolated 

 upon the board of some medical Moloch. These inquir- 

 ing physiologists are no respecters of persons, and will as 

 willingly submit to the edge of their scalpel or to their galva- 

 nic batteries, the muscles and nerves of the sagacious setter 

 and pointer, " the wiry terrier gaunt and grim, and greyhound 

 with his length of limb," as those of the veriest vagabond 

 of the kennel. If, therefore, ye do not desire to become 

 involuntary martyrs to the cause of medical science, be 

 wary and vigilant, for it will require all your vigilance of 

 eye and scent, to baffle the designs of your foe. If in the 

 course of your daily rambles you encounter any person 

 with a Bell or a Wistar, or any other volume rich in ana- 

 tomical lore, in his hand, avoid him as you would the Cho- 

 lera, or by his fascinations he will lead you on to your un- 

 doing. 



Poor Tray ! thou art indeed a noble and most affection- 

 ate animal, and wherever thy regards have been once be- 

 stowed, there they will remain, throughout all persecution 

 and all change. His attachment is often more stable and 

 true than woman's love or brother's friendship. Human 

 faith often changes to treachery; human promises and pro- 

 testations often prove to be but hollow words and deceitful 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



breath; and human affections, cemented by many a kind 

 and liberal act, and strengthened by many a worthy deed 

 in the intercourse of life, too often are estranged by a sin- 

 gle thoughtless word spoken in anger, or by some sudden 

 and calamitous reverse of fortune. But the attachment 

 of our dumb friend and follower is often far more enduring 

 and disinterested. He will sustain neglect, will submit to 

 hardship and starvation, and yet continue faithful and 

 affectionate to the last, following his lord through all his 

 adversities, from the very pinnacle of his aflBuence to the 

 depths of degradation and poverty. 



Here, we will venture to insert a few I'ough lines in- 

 tended to commemorate the virtues of a departed favourite: 

 and if they offend the refined taste of any of your rea- 

 ders and contributors, we will only request them, just to sit 

 down and write better, to suit themselves. 



Thy master, by the woodland tree 



Has made thy simple grave, poor Tray! 

 It is the latest rite, which he. 



Can to thy humble rehcs pay. 

 Thy bOTes have had a decent bier; 

 Thy memory, an honest tear. 



The greenest spot in all the wood, 



I've chosen for thy place of rest, 

 'Tis sheltered from the North-wind rude; 



'Tis open to the sweet South-west; 

 And summer suns will love to shine 

 Upon that verdant mound of thine. 



Full many an hour have we, my dog, 



Beguiled in this obscure retreat, • 



I, loitering on yon weed-grown log, 

 Thou revelling in this clover-sweet, 



— No more we come, for thou hast pass'd 



That bourne which I must reach at last. 



And shall that bright regardful eye 



Ne'er watch thy master's rest again. 

 And shall that blithe, rejoicing cry, 



Ne'er startle these deep woods again; 

 Ne'er rouse the feeding partridge more. 

 Or wild-duck on the lonely shore! 



No, it is hushed in silence deep, 



— Corruption's awful quietness! 

 And the bright eye is shut in sleep, 



The slumber of forgetfulness! 

 Thy frolics, and thy sports no more 

 Will charm as they have charmed of yore. 



But summer birds will visit thee 



And sing their sweet songs at thy grave; 

 The robin's tuneful melody 



Will mingle with the passing wave 

 Which whispers by thy turfy cell, 

 — The winding brook thou loved'st so well. 



F 



The wind-flower and the violet 

 Thou spared'st for their rich perfume. 



Will in the spring-time not forget 



To hang their blossoms o'er thy tomb; 



And sometimes to thy lowly bed 



Thy master's footstep will be led. 



There are numerous anecdotes which serve to illustrate 

 the sagacity and fidelity of this noble animal in our pos- 

 session, and which, if we continue to furnish further ex- 

 tracts from our diary, we shall gladly insert, for we do not 

 think that a proper measure of respect and regard has been 

 at any time accorded to him. However he may be 

 esteemed by the world at large, to the sportsman he is in- 

 valuable, and whatever may be said relative to his nature, 

 qualities and habits, cannot be, on the whole, uninterest- 

 ing. M. 

 [To be continued.'] 



A DAY'S HUNT ON THE BLUE MOUNTAIN, 



OR, MY FIRST ESSAY AFTER DEER. 



Dear 



No doubt you are still plodding away at the dull pur- 

 suits of a ceVy life, in your dusty old corner, — yawning, 

 and stretching your tired limbs, a very slave, cursing your 

 hard fate, — whilst here am I, amongst the wild scenes of 

 nature, another Leather-stocking, blessing the "Great 

 giver of life" that there is air to breathe in freedom from the 

 constraints of civilization; — regions where the laws of the 

 white-skins have scarcely reached, and where the wild 

 creturs of the woods can sport unharmed ; — scenes so wild 

 and rough and rugged, that we cannot but cry shame on 

 the tame pencils, that pourtray nature as flat as a floor, and 

 withal smooth, neat, and pretty. Why here I stand, on 

 the point of a mountain-ridge, that the rain has centuries 

 ago, washed clear of every thing like earth, leaving no- 

 thing but loose rocks, tumbled one on another; and out 

 from among them grow, crooked, gnarled trees, bare of 

 leaves at this season, — their rough, broken bark covered 

 with moss, which hangs like fringe from every limb, — 

 the rocks also are spread over with the same pensive garb. 

 It is, indeed, a moss-covered spot; every thing is tinted 

 with its colouring, grey, hoary, and ancient. This univer- 

 sal sombre tone has this moment changed to one of golden 

 hue; for the sun has burst through the thick clouds, and 

 brightly pictures every thing at hand on the dark back 

 ground of the opposite mountain, and the deep black hol- 

 low where the Mahanoy flows, unseen, some hundred 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



feet, beneath. The innumerable crooked branches pre- 

 sent quite a fantastic appearance; for the long moss, in many 

 places, hangs in festoons from one limb to another, curi- 

 ously gilt with the fiery tints of the setting sun. But what 

 strikes my feelings more than all, is the solitai'iness of 

 nature. In these wild regions all is mute as death — the 

 numerous feathered tribes that abound in the regions of 

 civilization are here almost unseen — not a sound is heard 

 from any animated thing — the wind and the waterfall, 

 alone, seem to have being. To one bred up in the busy 

 scenes of a city, it seems, indeed, like death. 



I said that the creatures of the woods could have sport 

 unharmed, but I believe there is no place where the wily 

 hunter does not pursue them; for I yesterday chanced to 

 fall in with one who had lived to hoary age amongst them, 

 numbering the deaths of some hundred Deer, Bears, and 

 other animals, that his unerring rifle had brought down. 

 We soon became acquainted, and agreed to take an excur- 

 sion next day — and at early dawn I was awoke with 

 "Come, //i<;i/er, its time to be a moving." The appellation 

 was to me quite flattering, for I had never been on a hunt 

 in my life. We were off before day-light, and reached our 

 gi'ound just as the sun began to gild, with a pale yellow 

 light, the abrupt side of the mountain opposite our path. 

 We passed on to the bottom, and crossed the black, rolling 

 Mahanoy, hurrying on, torrent-like, over its rocky bed. 

 Gaining the opposite side, we had to make our passage 

 through a swampy piece of ground, tangled with brush, 

 and underwood, and fallen trees. We then separated, — 

 the old hunter taking the right, his comrade the left, and 

 myself the centre. Stepping silently and cautiously along, 

 we pursued our course — "Still Hunting," as they call 

 it — the dogs being kept close in behind us, and not allowed 

 to go out. We had passed on an hour or more in this way, 

 through woods that had been annually burnt out by the 

 hunters to keep down the undergrowth, — when, on a sud- 

 den, a sound new to me, but instantly understood, of the 

 quick bounding of a Deer, struck my ear. I stopped, and 

 found from its increasing loudness, the animal was coming 

 directly towards me! All on the alert, I expected to 

 signalize myself, and win the appellation of Hunter, that 

 the old man had given me; but my hopes were dashed — 

 for the heavy sound of his hoofs, as at each bound he 

 struck the earth, changed in an instant, for ho had caught 

 my scent, and altered his course. In another moment, 

 the crack of my companion's rifle, on the left, told me he 

 had gone in that direction. On coming up to him, I found 

 he had taken a chance shot, whilst running, and missed. 

 Patience is the hunter's motto, — so again we went, care- 

 fully and silently on, not rustling a leaf if it could be 

 avoided. We had now entered a thick hemlock grove, — 



a rough, hilly piece of gi-ound, with two or three rivulets 

 running through it, when, again, the smart crack of the 

 rifle was heard — look out, was the cry — the animal was 

 wounded, and coming in my direction; he however turned, 

 and took the course of one of the rivulets, making for the 

 creek, to elude the dogs. After an hour's search, we could 

 discover no trace of him; still the old hunter would not 

 give up, persuaded that he was secreted in the tangled 

 swamp. Perseveringly we hunted the whole spot, some- 

 times up to the waist in water, at others clambering 

 amongst fallen trees and bushes. A quick sign from the 

 hunter stopped us; his practised ear caught a low, wailing 

 sound — again it was repeated, and turning towards the spot 

 from whence it came, I saw through the bushes, lying 

 crouched in a hollow, formed by the upturned roots of a 

 fallen tree, a sight that, for a moment, brought a painful 

 feeling to the heart. There lay the wounded dam, her 

 head turned over on her side, and beside her stood a 

 young fawn. Game, however, was our object. I kept 

 down the kindly feelings of nature, and cautiously raising 

 my piece, I sent the deadly bullet through her head. The 

 young thing bounded ofi", but in a moment came back, 

 bleating after its lost parent, and followed the party home. 

 The old hunter was touched with pity at its fate, and he 

 continues to nurse it with a kindness and fondness that 

 proves what the old man says — that from him it shall 

 never part. 



Farewell, 



B. B. B. 

 Blue Mountains, Nov. 5th, 1831. 



STANZAS 



TO THE MEMORY OF ALEXANDER WILSON, THE ORNITHO- 

 LOGIST. 



He asked to be laid where the birds might sing 



Their matins around his tomb, 

 Where the earliest grass of the year might spring. 



And the earliest flowers bloom. 



For Nature had filled his noble breast, 



With a love that could not die; 

 And he thought it were sweetest to sink to rest, 



Where, in life, he was wont to lie. 



'Mid the beautiful creatures that tenant the wild. 



His brightest days were passed, 

 And the voices he loved, when a frolic child. 



Were the voices he loved to the last. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



It was meet they should give him a verdant tomb. 

 Where the flowers, unplucked, might throng. 



And the bright-winged birds, unmolested might come. 

 With their sweetest, softest song. 



They made his grave by the old church towers,* 



Away from the haunts of care; 

 There, breathes the odour of Summer flowers. 

 And the music of birds is there. C. W. T. 



GAME LAWS OF NEW-YORK. 



OF THE PRESERVATION OF DEER AND CERTAIN GAME 

 AND ANIMALS. 



1. No person shall kill any wild buck, doe, or fawn, 

 at any time during the months of January, February, 

 March, April, May, June, or July. 



2. Every person who shall expose to sale any green 

 deer skin, or fresh venison, or who shall have the same 

 in his custody, at any time during the months aforesaid, 

 shall be deemed to have violated the first section of this 

 title, unless he prove that the buck, doe, or fawn, of which 

 such green skin or venison was a part, was killed by some 

 other person. 



3. Whenever any complaint shall be made to a justice 

 of the peace, that a violation of the first section of this 

 title has been committed, and that any green deer skin, or 

 deer's flesh, is concealed, he shall inquire into the matter, 

 and if satisfied by competent testimonj^, that there is rea- 

 sonable cause of suspicion to justify such complaint, he shall 

 issue his warrant to any constable of the town, authorizing 

 a search, in the day time, of any house, store, out-house, 

 or other place, where such skin or flesh is suspected to be 

 concealed, and search shall be made accordingly. 



4. Whoever shall violate the first section of this title, 

 or shall conceal any green deer skin, or fresh venison, 

 shall forfeit Sl2 50. 



5. No person shall at any time hunt, pursue, or destroy 

 any wild buck, doe, or fawn, with any bloodhound or 

 beagle; and whoever shall offend herein, shall forfeit 

 812 50. 



6. No person shall set any trap, or any spear made of 

 iron, or other metal, or any sharp stick, either in or out of 

 a pit, for the purpose of catching Deer, nor shall any per- 

 son watch in the night time for the purpose of shooting 

 Deer, within thirty rods of any highway. Whoever offends 

 against either of these provisions, shall forfeit twenty -five 

 dollars. 



• Swedes' Church, Philadelphia. 



7. No person shall kill any Heath Hens, within the 

 county of Queens, between the first day of January, and the 

 first Wednesday in October; nor in the county of Suffolk, 

 between the first day of January and the second Wednes- 

 day in September; nor shall any person kill any Quail, or 

 Partridges, in the counties of Queens, Kings, Suffolk, and 

 New-York, between the fifth day of January and the 

 twenty -fifth day of September; nor in the county of Al- 

 bany, between the first day of March and first day of Octo- 

 ber; nor shall any person kill any Woodcock, in any of 

 the counties above named, between the first day of Fe- 

 bruary and the first day of July; nor shall any person kill 

 any Pheasants in the county of Albany, between the first 

 day of March and the first day of October. 



8. Whoever shall offend against the provisions of the 

 last section, by killing any Heath Hen, shall forfeit twenty- 

 five dollars; by killing any Partridge, one dollar; and by 

 killing any Quail, Woodcock, or Pheasant, fifty cents.. 



9. Any person who shall expose to sale any Heath Hen, 

 Woodcock, Quail, Partridge, or Pheasant, in either of the 

 said counties respectively, or shall have any of the 

 said game in his possession in either of the said counties, 

 during the time when the killing of such game is forbidden 

 by law, shall be deemed guilty of killing the same game, 

 within the time prohibited. 



10. No person shall kill any Muskrat at any other place 

 than along the line of some canal or artificial dam, or 

 embankment, between the first day of May and the 

 first day of November, in any year; whoever offends 

 against this provision, shall forfeit one dollar for every 

 Muskrat killed. 



11. The penalties prescribed in this title, shall be sued 

 for, and recovered by and in the name of the overseers of 

 the poor of the town where the offence was committed, 

 in an action within three months after the commission of 

 the offence, and shall be applied for the use of the poor. — 

 Revised Statutes of New-York, Vol. I. page 701. 



From the American Turf Register. 



THE EAGLE AND THE WILD CAT. 



Prairie des Chiens, October 4, 1831. 



A FEW days since I received a letter from Dr. R. M. 

 Coleman, of the army, who is stationed at Fort Armstrong, 

 two hundred miles below this, from which the following is 

 an extract, viz. 



" A few days since I went out with my dog and gun, 

 with the intention of hunting pheasants. When I had got 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



near the ground I expected to find them, I heard at the 

 distance of fifty or sixty yards, a squirrel chattering very 

 loquaciously, as if in distress. I approached within some 

 twenty or thirty paces, and saw the squirrel running about 

 the top of a tree in apparent great fright. It occurred to 

 me, that a snake was after it; I stood still for a moment, 

 and traced the tree from the squirrel down to within some 

 ten or twenty feet of the ground, and behold there was a 

 Lynx, or what is here called a Wild Cat. My gun being 

 loaded with small shot, I commenced to put in a few 

 larger, but whilst in the act, the Cat leaped from the tree. 

 Knowing that my dog would get much injured if he caught 

 the animal, I would not suffer him to pursue it. In the 

 direction which the Lynx run, I saw a very large Black 

 Eagle, sitting on a tree, I mounted my horse and pursued 

 my hunt about three quarters of an hour, when, by acci- 

 dent, my rambles brought me to the tree I had seen the 

 Eagle perched on; at that moment, my dog made a dead 

 set very near a pile of brush; I halted and looked, there 

 was an Eagle, with its wings extended on the brush; not 

 wishing to shoot it, I approached, expecting it would fly, 

 but on looking closer, I saw under the Eagle a Lynx. I 

 dismounted, and secured the Eagle, and took the Lynx up, 

 scratched and pierced in many places; one of its eyes was 

 completely gouged out, and it could not have been dead 

 more than twenty minutes; there were a great many fea- 

 thers scattered about the place, and other indications of 

 there having been a tremendous figlit. I took tlie Eagle 

 to my quarters and kept it for twenty hours, when it ex- 

 pired. On examination, I found it wounded in several 

 places, fatally under the wings on both sides. I have no 

 doubt that this was the Eagle and Lynx I had first seen; 

 that the Eagle was the aggressor, and sufiered for his teme- 

 rity." 



Respectfully your ob't servant, 



R. B. M. U. S. A. 



Extracted from Silliman's Journal. 



ON HABITS OF CLEANLINESS IN BIRDS. 



It is a fact, not generally known, that the claws of 

 Birds are used as combs to rid the plumage of vermin; 

 whence Birds which have short legs are most infested by 

 insects. The expedients, which Birds, characterized by 

 short feet, — the waders which, from the inflexible nature 

 of their legs, and the geese tribe, from the opposition to 

 scratching, offered by the membrane between the toes, are 

 put to, in order to get rid of their vermin, are well deserv- 



ing of attention, as illustrating the ingenuity of 

 and the curious provisions made by nature for their clean- 

 liness. When Birds, by accident or imprisonment, are 

 deprived of the natural means of ridding themselves of ver- 

 min, they often fall victims to their attacks. The author, 

 walking on the coast of Northumberland, disturbed a bird, 

 which flew heedlessly, as if injured. On shooting it, he 

 found it was covered with vermin, especially about the 

 head, and on further examination ascertained that it had lost 

 one leg, and was thus deprived of the means of ridding it- 

 self of these insects. A nest of young swallows had been 

 hatched, and they had attained considerable size, when a 

 change was made in the window, which frightened the 

 parents; from that time, they continued to feed their 

 offspring, but never entered the nest. The young ones 

 soon became sick, and perished, and on examination the 

 nest was found to be crowded vvith acari of large size. 



Poultry which run about in stony or paved yards, wear 

 away the points of their claws, by friction and digging, 

 which renders them unfit to penetrate their coating of fea- 

 thers; they arc, therefore, more covered with vermin, and 

 in consequence more sickly than fowls from the country. 

 \Jour. of Roy. Inst. Feb. 1831. 



KILLING LARGE INSECTS. 



As many of your young entomological readers may 

 have found equal difficulty with myself in ascertaining the 

 readiest method of killing the larger Moths when captured, 

 I trust you will excuse my troubling you with the follow- 

 ing remarks. In the Journal of a Naturalist, prussic acid 

 is suggested; but that is not only very expensive, but a most 

 dangerous thing to have any dealing with. I have tried hot 

 water, steam, hot needles, ether, sulphur, aqua fortis, &c. 

 but found none so decidedly effective as oxalic acid, which 

 I thus apply: — First, shape a nice small quill into the form 

 of a very sharp pointed blind pen, (i. e. a pen without a 

 slit,) then seize your Moth, with the finger and thumb 

 between the wings on the under side, holding its head to- 

 wards you, firmly, but with as little pressure as possible. 

 Then dip your pen-shaped quill into the acid, and run it 

 into its thorax, just below the head, or between the first 

 pair of legs; and after two or three quick applications, the 

 Moth will be found perfectly dead. This is not only the 

 most humane and expeditious, but very economical, as two- 

 pence worth of acid would be sufficient to destroy subjects 

 to fill a whole cabinet. As I am writing for the informa- 

 tion of your young friends, I may be excused for adding, 

 that oxalic acid is in the form of crystals, which must be 

 reduced to a liquid by a little water.— iora. Mag. of 

 Nat. Hist. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



THE COUGAR. 



FELIS CONCOLOR. 



[Plate III. Vol. 2.] 



Felis Concolor et discolor; L. Gmel. Syst. Nat. i. p. 79. 

 sp. 9 — 12. — Temminck, Monog de Mam. livrais iv. 

 p. 134. — Felis Concolor, Linn^us — Godman, ;o. 291, 

 vol. I. — Le Cougar, Buff. Quad. vol. ix. tab. 59; Cou- 

 gar de Pennsylvanie et Cougar Noir; Buff. Supp. 

 III. p. 41, 42. — Pouma; Garcilasso, liv. viii. chap. 

 xviii. — Gouzara, De Azzara, Quad, du Paraguay, 

 vol. I. p. 133. — Puma; Pennant, ^rt. Zool. vol. i. p. 

 49. — Menagerie of Living Animals, exhibited in 

 Philadelphia, winter of 1831-2. 



The interesting animal, from which our drawing is 

 made, (and which we consider a perfect representation of 

 the original,) is well known to the public as belonging to 

 the celebrated menagerie of wild animals, now exhibiting 

 in the city of Philadelphia. This Cougar was taken on Red 

 River, near Natchitoches, in the state of Louisiana, by a 

 hunting party, after a hard battle, in which he destroyed 

 several dogs, and was at last secured by means of long 

 poles, and taken to New-Orleans, where he was purchased, 

 and added to this menagerie. He is an uncommon fine 

 specimen of the species, and will measure eight and a half 

 feet from the nose to the tip of the tail, and was supposed 

 to be five years old when taken; but no treatment, either 

 kind or severe, has subdued his disposition sufficient to 

 permit him to be handled with safety. 



The Cougar, (erroneously called Panther, or Painter,) 

 is a common inhabitant of the United States, and is found 

 on the continent of North America, from Canada to Pata- 

 gonia, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific Oceans. In South 

 America, it is called the "American Lion;" but by many 

 foreign naturalists and travellers, the Puma. This animal 

 is the largest of the cat kind in North America, and with 

 the exception of the Grisly and Polar Bears, the most 

 ferocious and powerful. The severity of the northern cli- 

 mate, however, has much influence on their fei'ocity and 

 rage, and are considered, in these particulars, as inferior to 

 those found south of the equator. 



The Cougars are particularly fond of mountainous dis- 

 tricts, and in the wild and unsettled parts of Pennsylvania, 

 and other states, are frequently met with, but are much more 

 rare than in former years; for, as population is increasing, 

 they are either killed by settlers, or driven to more distant 

 and secluded places, — and being an enemy alike to man and 

 beast, they become objects of persecution, wherever they 

 are found. 



G 



In South America, these animals, which are in numbers 

 on the Pampas and the Great Cordillera, afford fine sport 

 to the Indians and Gauchos, or natives of the plains, who 

 hunt them altogether for diversion, as we have no evi- 

 dence that their skins are valuable, or that the flesh is 

 eaten by the natives. The manner of hunting them is ge- 

 nerally on horseback, accompanied by dogs, and armed 

 with lassos, and destructive weapons called string-balls — 

 (these being hard wooden balls, secured to the end of ropes, 

 or pieces of hides) — thus, when a Cougar is aroused and 

 attacked by the dogs, and the issue of the battle doubtful, 

 the Gaucho generally puts an end to the strife, by striking 

 the animal over the head with one of these string-balls, the 

 momentum gained by whirling this instrument a few times, 

 being so powerful as to deprive the animal instantly of life; 

 or should the dogs refuse to make an attack, and have a 

 Cougar at bay, the Gaucho rides sufficiently near as to 

 hurl the lasso over its head, and then by gallopping off, 

 drags the enemy on the ground, while the dogs follow, and 

 tear it to pieces. 



In the United States, the destruction of this animal is 

 usually effected with the rifle. Our hunters, by reason of 

 great perfection in shooting this instrument of death, and 

 their familiarity with the Cougars, regard these animals in 

 no other light than certain victims to their unerring aim; 

 few indeed escape, when once the keen eye of the hunter 

 ranges the barrel of his rifle, or the new fallen snow betrays 

 the footsteps of these wily destroyers. 



There is scarcely a brute animal on earth, but will flee 

 the face of man. Whether it is the dignity of his form, or 

 the fear implanted in all the brute creation by the Author 

 of their being, which causes them to acknowledge men " as 

 the lords of creation," — certain it is, that among even the 

 most ferocious animals, very few can be found which will 

 venture to attack a man; and when this is done, hunger or 

 desperation is the exciting cause. The Cougar, when hun- 

 gry, and no longer able to obtain the ordinary supplies of 

 food, or wounded by its adversary, will attack alike both 

 man and beast, fearless of all consequences. Its ferocity is 

 easily excited, and when a painful wound is inflicted, its 

 rage is terrible, and will evince the utmost determination 

 to revenge itself Many anecdotes may be told, illustrative 

 of this disposition; one or two, however, will suffice. A 

 party of hunters, residents of Delaware county, in the state 

 of New-York, made an excursion after a Cougar, which had 

 frequently been seen prowling about the neighbourhood. 

 Before starting, the preliminary agreed on was, that if the 

 Cougar should be started, and treed, it was not to be shot 

 until each individual composing the party should be pre- 

 sent — this agreement broken, a penalty of all the expenses 

 of the day, was to be imposed on the offender. Shortly 




26 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



after starting, the dogs aroused the animal, and after a 

 chase of a few miles, along the mountains, among rocks 

 and almost impenetrable laurels, it took to a beach tree, 

 and clambered to the top, about thirty feet from the ground, 

 where it crouched, and watched the dogs, which were in 

 numbers barking at the foot of the tree. Among the party 

 was a stranger, who had never experienced a hunt of the 

 kind, and regardless of the penalty to which he would sub- 

 ject himself, resolved at all hazards to shoot the Cougar, 

 if an opportunity offered, and enjoy the satisfaction of hav- 

 ing destroyed one of the most ferocious wild animals of our 

 forests. Accordingly he hastened to the scene of action, 

 when he saw the animal resting on the tree, and immedi- 

 ately fired at its heart, — but to his astonishment, instead of 

 killing, he only aroused its vengeance; for the moment he 

 discharged his rifle, the Cougar began to growl and spit, and 

 rip and tear every limb of the tree within its reach, and 

 when on the point of leaping at the hunter, a shot from an 

 unknown rifle, hurled the animal to the ground dead, 

 within ten or twelve feet of the person who first fired, and 

 who being so excessively frightened, and overcome with 

 tremour, that he sunk helpless on the ground; and but for 

 the fortunate intervention of his friend, would have been 

 torn in pieces. Being on a rocky precipice, and the place 

 so overgrown with high laurels, he did not see two of the 

 hunters who had arrived a few moments before him; nei- 

 ther were they aware, that any of the party were present 

 but themselves, until they heard the report of the rifle 

 within a few yards of them, and being experienced hunters, 

 they knew by its actions, that the animal was aiming the 

 destruction of their friend, and the timely interference and 

 unerring aim of Captain W , only saved his life. 



The following anecdote, which is copied from Godman's 

 Natural History, was furnished by the late William Scud- 

 der, who had the Cougar, and which is still in the New- 

 York Museum. 



"Two hunters, accompanied by two dogs, went out in 

 quest of game near the Kaatskill Mountains. At the foot 

 of a large hill, they agreed to go round it in opposite direc- 

 tions, and when either discharged his rifle, the other was 

 to hasten towards him, to aid in securing the game. Soon 

 after parting, the report of a rifle was heard by one of them, 

 who, hastening towards the spot, after some search, found 

 nothing but the dog, dreadfully lacerated, and dead. He 

 now became much alarmed for the fate of his companion, 

 and while anxiously looking around, was horror-struck by 

 the harsh growl of a Cougar, which he perceived on a 

 large limb of a tree, crouching on the body of his friend, 

 and apparently meditating an attack on himself. Instantly 

 he levelled his rifle at the beast, and was so fortunate as to 

 wound it mortally, when it fell to the ground along with 



the body of his slaughtered companion. His dog then 

 rushed upon the wounded Cougar, which, with one blow of 

 its paw, laid the poor creature dead by its side. The sur- 

 viving hunter now left the spot, and quickly returned with 

 several other persons, when they found the lifeless Cou- 

 gar extended near the dead bodies of the hunter and the 

 faithful dogs." 



The Cougar is exceedingly tenacious of its food, and 

 rather than relinquish it, will sufier death. Instances of 

 this kind sometimes occur, which the following anecdote 

 from the same author will show. 



" About five miles from Phillipsburgh, Centre county, 

 Pennsylvania, Mr. Mitchell, on the 8th of December, 1825, 

 shot at a buck, (cervus Virginianus,) and vi^ounded him in 

 the shoulder. He followed the animal for some time, and 

 at length perceived him at the distance of about forty yards, 

 lying with his heels upwards, and a Cougar holding him 

 by the throat. The hunter discharged his rifle at the Cou- 

 gar, and shot it through the heart; when this animal relin- 

 quished the buck, advanced four or five yards, and fell life- 

 less. Having again charged his rifle, and believing the 

 Panther to be dead, Mr. Mitchell, turning towards the 

 wounded buck, was surprised to see another Cougar in the 

 act of pulling down the head; and, as it now appeared, the 

 buck had been held down by both Cougars at the moment 

 the first was killed. The body of the buck was between 

 the hunter and the second Cougar, nothing but the head of 

 which was visible. At this Mr. Mitchell levelled his rifle, 

 and the ball entered it at the angle of the eye. The beast 

 remained still for a few minutes, and then, for the first time, 

 relinquished his hold of the buck, and walked over it to- 

 wards the hunter, who fired his rifle a second time, and 

 shot him through in the neighbourhood of the heart. At 

 this moment the buck recovered his legs, stumbled over 

 the body of the Cougar, finally extricated himself, and ran 

 off". A third discharge of the rifle, pierced the Cougar with 

 another ball, yet he still remained on his feet, and it was 

 not until the rifle was again discharged, and a fourth ball 

 driven through the back part of the under jaw, that the 

 animal fell and expired. What is most singular is, that the 

 male should not have relinquished his hold of the buck 

 when the female was killed, but continued in the same po- 

 sition until the ball entered his own head, near the eye. 

 The buck ran near a mile before he was finally overtaken, 

 and killed." 



The Cougar usually seizes its prey, by springing from 

 trees, while the unsuspecting animals which compose its 

 food, are passing by. The places of watchfulness are gene- 

 rally on old logs, fallen trees, and large limbs of trees pro- 

 jecting over or near deer-paths, and watering places. It 

 frequents salt licks, during the night season, where it often 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



makes havoc among the visitants of these places. At other 

 times, it approaches its prey by stealth, or stratagem, and 

 secures its victim generally by a sudden bound, and when 

 failing in this, seldom pursues, but sneaks off in search of 

 other objects, as its form, although remarkably strong, and 

 possessing astonishing agility, is unfitted for active pursuit. 

 It is remarkably fond of birds, especially wild turkeys and 

 pheasants; and when wild animals are no longer to be 

 caught, it prowls about farm-houses, and near villages, when 

 it becomes very destructive, by killing hogs, sheep, calves, 

 &c. In attacking animals larger than itself, the Cougar 

 springs on their backs, and never relaxes its hold until 

 the victim falls beneath its power. Its manner of destroy- 

 ing in this case, is by grasping firmly with its fore claws 

 the sides of the animal, and then by ripping the back and 

 loins with its hinder claws, and gnawing through the neck 

 until the vitals are reached, the suffering beast falls, writh- 

 ing in agonies, or the only possible chance of escape for the 

 poor animal is by taking to water, should any be near, as 

 the utter dislike of the feline species to this element, often 

 causes the Cougar to lose its prey. Smaller animals, such 

 as deer, sheep, hogs and calves, it usually strikes to the 

 earth, and then seizing them by the throat, will commence 

 sucking their blood, or throw them with ease over its 

 shoulder, and depart for a more convenient place to devour 

 its food at leisure. 



In its destructive habits, the Cougar resembles the Tiger 

 more than any other animal. The lion, and most carnivo- 

 rous animals, destroy only sufficient for their present neces- 

 sities, but the Tiger and Cougar are not only ferocious, but 

 cruel, when necessity no longer requires it. After destroy- 

 ing their prey, they first suck the blood, and should more 

 victims be present, go on destroying so long as subjects for 

 destruction are within their reach. They have a thirst for 

 blood which can hardly be satiated, and delighting so ex- 

 cessively in carnage, they are excited with as much energy 

 in killing the last, as they possessed when destroying their 

 first victim; and this prodigality of life is more strikingly 

 manifested by the fact, that when the carcass of their prey be- 

 comes void of blood, or putrid, they forsake it entirely. 

 It is one of those few animals whose ferocity is almost 

 unconquerable; and when friendship and good treatment 

 have in a measure softened its disposition, its constancy 

 is very suspicious, and treachery is frequently manifest- 

 ed towards the hand which is extended in kindness to- 

 wards it.* 



It is when a Cougar has become old, and its claws, 

 teeth, and energies are failing, and can no longer success- 

 fully follow wild animals, that it will venture near dwell- 

 ings for food, or attack mankind. An instance of this kind 

 occurred a few years since in the northern part of this 

 state. A woman who was gathering beans fi'om a small 

 patch of ground in front of a log house, which had just bee A 

 built in an uncultivated spot, was so teased by the barking 

 of a small dog, which usually remained about the house, 

 that she turned around to chide and drive it away, when to 

 her dismay, she saw, sitting on a large stump, a Cougar, 

 which had been kept in that position by the little guardian 

 dog, from springing at and destroying an infant, that was sit- 

 ting on the ground within twenty feet of the monster. The 

 unconscious mother had placed her child there, while she 

 completed her work; but on the discovery of the danger 

 it was in, ran and caught it up, and conveyed it to the 

 house, and closed the door; and the last she heard of 

 the beast, was the distant barking of the small dog, which 

 however soon ceased entirely. At dinner hour, the hus- 

 band returned from his work, and having with him his 

 rifle and large dog, (which were always his companions, 

 when absent from home,) without delay went in pursuit of 

 the monster, so soon as the above circumstances were made 

 known to him, and after following for more than two miles, 

 came up with and shot it, — and hearing nothing more of 

 the little dog, curiosity led him to open the Cougar, in 

 which he found the remains of the little animal which 

 saved the life of his child. 



Another anecdote is related of a man that was cutting 

 timber several miles from his dwelling, who as the sun was 

 declining, left his work to return home. He had pro- 

 ceeded only a short distance, when he saw in the snow, 

 (which was a foot deep,) the tracks of a Cougar, which had, 

 during that day, and while he was at work, crossed the path 

 which led to his house. Having his rifle, and the sun being 

 yet above the horizon, he concluded to follow the track in 

 hopes of surprising and killing the animal before dark; he 

 however was not a little surprised, to find that the enemy 

 had made a short, circuitous route, round him, while chop- 

 ping wood, and crouched itself on a fallen tree, within 

 thirty yards of him, where it had been watching until his 

 departure. But his surprise was still greater, when on 

 pursuing the track further, to find, that the animal had 

 proceeded up to the spot where he had been at work, and 



writer had a pair, which were taken by a boy in Kentucky, after the mo- 

 * Instances are recorded of these animals having been tamed, and ther had been killed, — these my friend kept and tamed, and were gene- 

 made as familiar to human society, as the domesticated cat. It is stated rally very sociable and playful, but their friendship could never be de- 

 that D'.\zara, the naturalist, had one, and Mr. Kean, the tragedian, ano- pended on, for frequently, in the most unsuspected moments, they would 

 ther, which were much attached to them; and an acquaintance of the show their treachery. 




28 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



which he had left but a minute or two previous. This 

 daunted the hunter, and he made the best of his way home, 

 as he was convinced the Cougar was after him. Next 

 morning, however, being joined by several hunters and 

 dogs, he went in pursuit, and finally overtook and killed 

 bis antagonist, — which proved to be an old, male Cougar, 

 whose teeth and claws were worn out, and which evidently 

 did not possess energy sufficient to make an attack on the 

 man. 



When the Cougar is aroused to madness, or in the act of 

 t^pringing on its prey, it usually crouches with its fore legs 

 nearly close to the ground, and the hinder parts somewhat 

 more elevated; the eyes are enlarged and wild, and the 

 muscles of the face so drawn up as to bespeak great ferocity, 

 while the light and shadows of the countenance are beauti- 

 fully variegated; the ears, which usually stand upright, are 

 now turned downward and backward, and in proportion to 

 its anger, lie closer to the skin. Our Drawing is made from 

 the animal while in this position, it having been excited 

 purposely, by the appearance of the Lama belonging to the 

 same menagerie, before its cage. 



The Cougar inhabits mountains, and the most dense for- 

 ests, and makes its lair in caves, among rocks, and under 

 large logs, and which is generally composed of leaves. It 

 purs frequently, but the usual voice is a loud, terrifying 

 scream, which at times appears like that of a female in dis- 

 tress; but when angry, growls, snorts, and spits at its antago- 

 nist. It usually brings forth three kittens at a time, which 

 remain blind for eight or ten days, and differ in colour from 

 the mother, being of a grayish-brown, and marked with 

 still darker brown stripes. 



The following description is taken from a very fine speci- 

 men, in the possession of the writer, which may be ac- 

 counted of a medium size: — Length, from the nose to the 

 tip of the tail, seven feet; body slim, legs long, and thick; 

 the fore legs more thick and muscular than the hinder; 

 lail long, and rather bushy; head small; eyes large, and of 

 a pale yellowish-ash; neck, sides, rump, external part of 

 the legs, and the under part of the tail and belly, a pale 

 brownish-red, and, in a particular light, approximate a rich, 

 silvery fawn colour; paws, to the first joint, of a brighter 

 colour than the upper parts; a dark ferruginous, inter- 

 mixed with a number of black hairs, extends from be- 

 tween the eyes, over the whole forehead, along the back 

 and upper part of the tail to the end, which is back; nose, 

 black; throat, and inside of the ears and legs, of a dirty 

 white; back of the ears black, except the edges, which are 

 whitish; the upper and under lips, of pure white — on each 

 side of the former is a black stripe, from which rise a num- 

 ber of long, thick, and white whiskers; under and over the 

 eyes are patches of a dirty yellowish colour; claws, of a 



white corn colour, exceedingly curved and long, and co- 

 vered by a sheath, which is withdrawn by the animal at 

 pleasure — the inner claw larger than the rest. 



THE HORSE. 



[Continued from page 6.] 



" The Horse, of all animals, is that which, with great 

 stature, has the most complete proportion and elegance in 

 every part of his body; and compared with every other 

 animal he appears superior in these respects. The great 

 length of the jaws is the principal cause of the difference 

 between the heads of quadrupeds and of the human spe- 

 cies: it is, also, the most ignoble mark of all; yet, though 

 the jaws of the Horse are very long, he has not, like the 

 ass, an air of imbecility, or of stupidity like the ox. The 

 regularity of the proportions of his head, on the contrary, 

 gives him an air of sprightliness, which is well supplied by 

 the beauty of his chest. The Horse seems desirous of 

 raising himself above his state of a quadruped, by holding 

 up his head, and in this noble attitude he looks man in the 

 face; his eyes are lively and large, his ears well made, and 

 of a just proportion, without being short like those of the 

 bull, or too long like those of the ass; his main suits well 

 his head, ornaments his neck, and gives him an air of 

 strength and haughtiness; his long, bushy tail, covers and 

 terminates advantageously the extremities of his body, far 

 different from the short tails of the stag, the elephant, &.c. 

 and the naked tails of the ass, the camel, the rhinoce- 

 ros, &c. The tail of the Horse is formed of long, thick 

 hair, which seems to come from the rump, because the 

 stump from which it grows, is very short; he cannot raise 

 his tail like the lion, but it suits him better hanging down, 

 as he can move it sideways; it is very useful to him to 

 drive away the flies which incommode him: for though his 

 skin is very hard, and is every where furnished with 

 a close, thick coat, it is, notwithstanding, extremely 

 sensible. 



" The head of a well proportioned Horse should be lean 

 and small, without being too long; the ears at a inoderate 

 distance, small, straight, immoveable, narrow, thin, and 

 well placed on the top of the head: the forehead narrow, 

 and a little convex; the hollows filled up, the eyelids thin, 

 the eyes clear, lively, full of fire, rather large, and project- 

 ing from the head, the pupil large; the nether jaw thin; 

 the nose a little aquiline, the nostrils large and open, the 

 partition of the nose, and the lips thin; the mouth of a mo- 

 derate width; the withers raised and sloping; the shoul- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



ders thin, flat, and not confined; the back equal, even, and 

 insensibly arched lengthways, and raised on each side of 

 the spine, which should appear indented; the flanks full and 

 short, the rump round and fleshy; the haunches well co- 

 vered with hair; the stump of the tail thick and firm; the 

 fore legs and thighs thick and fleshy, the knee round before, 

 the houghs large and rounded, the sinew loose, the joint 

 next the foot small, the fetlock not thickly covered with 

 hair, the pastern large, and of a middling length, the coro- 

 net rather raised, the hoof black, smooth, shining, and 

 high, the quarters round, the heels wide, and moderately 

 raised, the frog small and thin, and the sole thick and 

 hollow. 



" But there are few Horses in which this assemblage of 

 perfection is to be found. The eyes are subject to many 

 complaints, which are sometimes difiicult to be known. In 

 a healthy eye we ought to see through the cornea two or 

 three spots of the colour of soot, above the pupil: to see 

 these spots the cornea must be clear, clean, and transpa- 

 rent; if it appears double, or of a bad colour, the eye is not 

 good: a small, long, and straight pupil, encompassed with 

 a white circle, is also a bad sign; and when it is of a 

 bluish green colour, the eye is certainly bad, and the sight 

 dull. 



"It is very easy to judge of the natural and actual state of 

 the animal by the motion of his ears; when he walks he 

 should project forwards the points of his ears; a jaded 

 Horse carries his ears low; those which are spirited and 

 mischievous, alternately carry one of their ears forward 

 and one backwards; they all carry their ears on that side 

 from which they hear any noise, and when any one strikes 

 them on the back, or on the rump, they turn their ears 

 back. Horses which have the eyes deep sunk in the head, 

 or one smaller than the other, have usually a bad sight; 

 those which have the mouth dry are not of so healthy a 

 temperament as those which have the mouth moist, and 

 make the bridle frothy. A saddle Horse ought to have 

 the shoulders flat, moveable, and not very fleshy; the 

 draught Horse, on the contrary, should have them flat, 

 round, and brawny: if, notwithstanding, the shoulders of 

 a saddle Horse are too thin, and the bones show themselves 

 through the skin, it is a defect, which shows the shoulders 

 are not free, and consequently the Horse cannot bear fa- 

 tigue. Another fault of a saddle Horse is, to have the chest 

 project too forward, and the fore legs drawn too much 

 back, because he is apt to rest on the hand in galloping, 

 and even to stumble and fall: the length of the legs should 

 be proportionable to the height of the Horse; when the fore 

 legs are too long, he is not sure footed, — if they are too 

 short, he is too heavy in the hand: it is a remark, that 

 Mares are more liable than Horses to be short legged; and 

 H 



that Horses in general have the legs thicker than Mares or 

 Geldings. 



" One of the most important things to be known, is, the 

 age of the Horse: it is from the teeth that we obtain the most 

 certain knowledge of their age; the Horse has fort}' — 

 twenty-four grinders, four eye teeth, and twelve incisive 

 teeth: Mares have no eye teeth, or if they have them they 

 are very short: the grinders are not instrumental to the 

 knowledge of their age, — we form our judgment from the 

 front and eye teeth. The twelve front teeth begin to show 

 themselves fifteen days after the birth of the foal; these 

 first teeth are round, short, not strong, and drop out at 

 different times, in order to make room for others; at two 

 years and a half the four front middle teeth drop out the 

 first, two at top, and two at bottom; a year after four others 

 fall out, one on each side of those which are already re- 

 placed; at about four years and a half, four others drop out, 

 always on the side of those which have been replaced; 

 these four last milk teeth, are replaced by four others, 

 which do not grow near so fast as those which replaced 

 the first eight; and these four last teeth, which are called 

 the wedges, and which replace the four last milk teeth, are 

 those by which we know the age of a Horse: these are 

 easily known, since they are the third as well at top as at 

 bottom, beginning to count from the middle to the extre- 

 mity of the jaw; these teeth are hollow, and have a black 

 mark in their concavity; at four years and a half, or five 

 years old, they scarcely project beyond the gums, and the 

 hollow is plainly seen; at six years and a half it begins to 

 fill up, the mark also begins to diminish and grow nar- 

 rower, and so continues till seven years and a half or eight 

 years, when the hollow is entirely filled up, and the black 

 mark effaced: after the animal has attained eight years, as 

 these teeth do not give further information of the age, we 

 generally judge by the eye teeth or tusks; these four teeth 

 are placed at the side of those which I have just now been 

 speaking of; the eye teeth, as well as the grinders, are not 

 preceded by others which fall out; those of the inferior jaw 

 usually come out first at three years and a half, and the two 

 of the upper jaw at four years, and till they are six years 

 old, they are very sharp; at ten years old, the upper ones 

 appear already blunt, worn, and long, because they are 

 bare, the gum wearing away with age, and the more they 

 are worn away the more aged the Horse is: from ten till 

 thirteen or fourteen years, there is hardly any indication of 

 the age, but then some hairs on the eyebrows begin to 

 grow white; but this indication is equivocal, since it has 

 been remarked that Horses engendered from old stallions 

 and old mares have the hair white on the eyebrows at ten 

 years old. There are also Horses whose teeth are so hard 

 that they do not wear, and upon which the black mark 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



subsists, and is never efl'aced; and others which have the 

 mark in the mouth as long as they live. We may also 

 know, though with less precision, the age of a Horse, by the 

 ridges of the palate, which are effiiced in proportion to his 

 age. 



" It has been remarked, that studs situated in dry and 

 light countries, produce good-tempered, swift, and vigorous 

 Horses, with nervous legs and hard hoofs; while on the 

 other hand, those which are bred in damp places, and in 

 fat pasturage, have generally the head large and heavy, the 

 legs thick, the hoofs soft, and the feet flat. This difference 

 arises from the climate and food, which may be easily un- 

 derstood; but, what is more difficult to be comprehended, 

 and what is still more essential than any thing that has 

 been said, is, the necessity of always crossing or mixing 

 the breed, if we would prevent their degenerating. 



" Mares usually go with foal eleven months and some 

 days; they will breed commonly to the age of fourteen or 

 fifteen years, and the more vigorous longer than eighteen 

 years. 



" The duration of the life of Horses is like tliat of every 

 other species of animals, in proportion to the time of their 

 growth. Man, who is above fourteen years in growing, 

 lives six or seven times as long, that is to say, ninety or a 

 hundred years. The Horse, who attains his full growth in 

 four years, lives six or seven times as long, that is to say, 

 twenty-five or thirty years. There are so few examples to 

 contradict this rule, that we should not even regard them 

 as exceptions from which we may draw any precedents; 

 and as robust Horses are at their entire growth in less time 

 than delicate ones, they also live less time, and at fifteen 

 years of age are old. 



'< The Arabian Horses are the handsomest known in 

 Europe ; they are larger and plumper than those of Barbary, 

 and equally well shaped, but as they are not often brought 

 into this country, riding-masters are not able to give an 

 exact account of their perfections and defects. 



" The Horses of Barbary are more common, they are fre- 

 quently negligent in their paces, and must be often remind- 

 ed: they are very swift and strong, very light, and very fit 

 for hunting. These Horses seem the most proper to breed 

 from; it is only to be wished that they were of larger sta- 

 ture, as they seldom exceed four feet eight inches high." 



The Barb. 



" The earliest records we have of the Horse, trace him to 

 Egypt, whence he gradually found his way to Arabia and 

 Persia, and the provinces which were colonized from Egypt; 

 and thence to the other parts of the Old World. But Egypt 

 is not now a breeding country, and it does not appear to 



possess those requisites which could ever have constituted 

 it one. Without, however, entering into the question whe- 

 ther the Horse was primarily the inhabitant of some parti- 

 cular region, whence other parts were gradually supplied, 

 or whether it was common to many countries, but differing 

 in each; we have stated it to be probable that the Horses 

 of Egypt, the earliest on record, were derived from the 

 neighbouring and interior districts of Africa. Therefore, 

 in giving a very summary account of the most celebrated 

 and useful breeds of different countries, it is natural to be- 

 gin with those of Africa. 



"At the head of these is the Barb, from Barbary, and 

 particularly from Morocco and Fez, and the interior of 

 Tripoli, and remarkable for his fine and graceful action. It 

 is rather lower than the Arabian, seldom exceeding four- 

 teen hands and an inch. The shoulders are flat, the che.st 

 round, the joints inclined to be long, and the head parti- 

 cularly beautiful. The Barb is decidedly superior to the 

 Arab in form, but has not his spirit, or speed, or counte- 

 nance. 



" The Barb has chiefly contributed to the excellence of 

 the Spanish Horse; and, when the improvement of the 

 breed of Horses began to be systematically pursued in 

 Great Britain, the Barb was very early introduced. The 

 Godolphin Arabian, as he is called, and who was the ori- 

 gin of some of our best racing blood, was a Barb; and 

 others of our most celebrated turf Horses trace their descent 

 from African mares. 



"More in the centre of Africa, in the kingdom of 

 Bournou, is a breed which Mr. Tully, in his almost roman- 

 tic history of Tripoli, reckons superior even to those of 

 Arabia or Barbary; it possesses the best qualities of both 

 those breeds, being as serviceable as that of Arabia, and as 

 beautiful as that of Barbary. 



" In the more southern and western districts of Africa, 

 and particularly in the neighbourhood of the Guinea Coast, 

 the breed of Horses is very inferior. They are small, 

 weak, unsafe, and untractable. But neither Horses, nor 

 any other produce of value, can be looked for in those un- 

 happy countries, so long as they are desolated by the infer- 

 nal slave trade inflicted upon them by the most civilized, 

 but truly unchristian nations of Europe. " 



The Dongola Horse. 



" The kingdom of Dongola, and the neighbouring dis- 

 tricts lying between Egypt and Abyssinia, contain a Horse 

 not at all like any other oriental. 



"They stand full sixteen hands high, but the length of 

 the body, from the shoulders to the quarter, is considera- 

 bly less. Their form, therefore, is opposite to that of the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



Arabian, or English thorough-bred, which are longer by 

 some inches than they are high. The neck is long and 

 slender, the crest fine, and the withers sharp and high, 

 giving a beautiful forehand; but the breast is too narrow, the 

 quarters and flanks too flat, and the back carped. 



"Bosman, whose descriptions prove him to be no bad 

 horseman, thus speaks of them, but in somewhat too flatter- 

 ing a manner. ' The Dongola Horses are the most per- 

 fect in the world, being beautiful, symmetrical in their 

 parts, nervous and elastic in their movements, and docile 

 and affectionate in their manners. One of these Horses 

 was sold in 1S16, at Grand Cairo, for a sum equivalent to 

 1000/.' Going further eastward we arrive at Arabia, 

 whose Horses deservedly occupy the very highest rank." 



The ^Irabiun. 



" A few wild Horses are yet seen on some of the deserts of 

 Arabia. They are hunted by the Bedouins for their flesh, 

 which is considered a delicacy, if the animal be young; and 

 also to increase their stock of inferior Horses, which they 

 often palm on the merchant as descended from the sacred 

 breed. They are said to be even swifter than the domes- 

 ticated Horse, and are usually taken by traps hidden in 

 the sand. Mr. Bruce, however, doubts whether any wild 

 Horses are now found in Arabia Deserta. 



"Although in the seventh century, the Arabs had no 

 Horses of value, yet the Cappadocian and other Horses 

 which they had derived from their neighbours, were pre- 

 served with so much care, and propagated so uniformly 

 and strictly from the finest of the breed, that in the thir- 

 teenth century the Arabian Horse began to assume a just 

 and unrivalled celebrity. 



" There are said to be three breeds or varieties of Ara- 

 bian Horses: — the Jittechi, or inferior breed, on which 

 they set little value, and which are found wild on some 

 parts of the deserts; the Kadischl, literally Horses of an 

 unknown race, answering to our half-bred Horses — a mixed 

 breed; and the Kochlani, Horses whose genealogy, accord- 

 ing to the Arab account, is known for two thousand years. 

 Many of them have written and attested pedigrees extend- 

 ing more than four hundred years, and with true Eastern 

 exaggeration, traced by oral tradition from the stud of So- 

 lomon. A more careful account is kept of these genealo- 

 gies than belongs to the most ancient family of the proud- 

 est Arab chief, and very singular precautions are taken to 

 prevent the possibility of fraud, so far as the written pedi- 

 gree extends. 



" The Kochlani are principally reared by the Bedouin 

 Arabs, in the remoter deserts. A stallion may be pro- 

 cured without much difficulty, although at a great price. 



A mare is rarely to be obtained, except by fraud, and ex- 

 cessive bribery. The Arabs have found out that which the 

 English breeder should never forget, that the female is 

 more concerned than the male in the excellence and value 

 of the produce; and the genealogies of their Horses are 

 always reckoned from the mothers. 



"The Arabian Horse would not be acknowledged by 

 every judge to possess a perfect form; his head, however, 

 is inimitable. The broadness and squareness of the fore- 

 head, the shortness and fineness of the muzzle, the promi- 

 nence and brilliancy of the eye, the smallness of the ears, 

 and the beautiful course of the veins, will always charac- 

 terize the head of the Arabian Horse. His body may be 

 considered as too light, and his chest as too narrow; but 

 behind the arms the barrel generally swells out, and leaves 

 sufficient room for the play of the lungs. In the formation 

 of the shoulder, next to that of the head, the Arab is supe- 

 rior to any other breed. The withers are high, and the 

 shoulder-blade inclined backward, and so nicely adjusted, 

 that in descending a hill the point or edge of the ham 

 never rufiles the skin. He may not be thought sufficiently 

 high; he seldom stands more than fourteen hands two 

 inches. The fineness of his legs, and the oblique position 

 of his pasterns, may be supposed to lessen his apparent 

 strength; butthe leg, although small, is flat and wiry; ana- 

 tomists know that the bone has no common density, and 

 the starting muscles of the fore-arm and the thigh, indi- 

 cate that he is fully capable of accomplishing many of the 

 feats which are recorded of him. 



"The Barb alone excels him in noble and spirited ac- 

 tion; and if there be defects about him, he is perfect for 

 that for which he was designed. He presents the true 

 combination of speed and bottom — strength enough to carry 

 more than a light ^veight, and courage that would cause him 

 to die rather than to give up. We may not, perhaps, believe 

 all that is told us of the Arabian. It has been remarked, that 

 there are on the deserts which this Horse traverses, no 

 mile-stones to mark the distance, or watches to calculate 

 the time; and the Bedouin is naturally given to exaggera- 

 tion, and most of all, when relating the prowess of the ani- 

 mal, which he loves as dearly as his children; yet it can- 

 not be denied that, at the introduction of the Arabian into 

 the European stables, there was no other Horse compara- 

 ble to him. 



" The Arab Horse is as celebrated for his docility and 

 good temper, as he is for speed and courage. In that de- 

 lightful book, ' Bishop Heber's Narrative of a Journey 

 through the Upper Provinces of India,' the following inte- 

 resting character is given of him. ' My morning rides are 

 very pleasant. My horse is a nice, quiet, good-tempered 

 little Arab, who is so fearless that he goes, without starting, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



close to an elephant, and so gentle and docile that he eats 

 bread out of my hand, and has almost as much attachment 

 and coaxing ways as a dog. This seems the general cha- 

 racter of the Arab Horses, to judge from what I have seen 

 in this country. It is not the fiery dashing animal I had 

 supposed, but with more rationality about him, and more 

 apparent confidence in the rider, than the majority of Eng- 

 lish Horses.' 



"The 'kindness with which he is treated from a foal, 

 gives him an affection for his master, a wish to please, a 

 pride in exerting every energy in obedience to his com- 

 mands, and, consequently, an apparent sagacity which is 

 seldom seen in other breeds. The mare and her foal inha- 

 bit the same tent with the Bedouin and his children. The 

 neck of the mare is often the pillow of the rider, and, more 

 frequently, of the children, who are rolling about upon her 

 and the foal: yet no accident ever occurs, and the animal 

 acquires that friendship and love for man which occasional 

 ill-treatment will not cause him for a moment to forget. 



"When the Arab falls from his mare, and is unable to 

 rise, she will immediately stand still and neigh until 

 assistance arrives. If he lies down to sleep, as fatigue 

 sometimes compels him, in the midst of the desert, she 

 stands watchful over him, and neighs and rouses him if 

 either man or beast approaches. An old Arab had a valua- 

 ble mare that had carried him for fifteen years in many a 

 hard-fought battle, and many a rapid, weary march; at 

 length, eighty years old, and unable longer to ride her, he 

 gave her, and a scimitar that had been his father's, to his 

 eldest son, and told him to appreciate their value, and 

 never lie down to rest until he had rubbed them both as 

 bright as a looking-glass. In the'first skirmish in which 

 the young man was engaged, he was killed, and the mare 

 fell into the hands of the enemy. When the news reached 

 the old man, he exclaimed that ' life was no longer worth 

 preserving, for he had lost both his son and his mare, and 

 he grieved for one as much as the other;' and he immedi- 

 ately sickened and died. 



"Man, however, is an inconsistent being. The Arab 

 who thus lives with and loves his Horses, regarding them 

 as his most valuable treasure, sometimes treats them with 

 a cruelty scarcely to be believed, and not at all to be justi- 

 fied. The severest treatment which the English Race 

 Horse endures, is gentleness compared with the trial of 

 the young Arabian. Probably the filly has never before 

 been mounted; she is led out; her owner springs on her 

 back, and goads her over the sand and rocks of the desert, 

 at full speed, for fifty or sixty miles, without one moment's 

 respite. She is then forced, steaming and panting, into 

 water deep enough for her to swim. If, immediately after 

 this, she will eat as if nothing had occurred, her character 



is established, and she is acknowledged to be a genuine 

 descendant of the Kochlani breed. The Arab is not con- 

 scious of the cruelty which he thus inflicts. It is an inva- 

 riable custom, and custom will induce us to inflict many a 

 pang on those whom, after all, we love. 



"The following anecdote of the attachment of an Arab 

 to his mare, has often been told, but it comes home to the 

 bosom of every one possessed of common feeling: — 'The 

 whole stock of an Arab of the desert consisted of a mare. 

 The French consul ofl"ered to purchase her in order to send 

 her to his sovereign, Louis XIV. The Arab would have 

 rejected the proposal at once with indignation and scorn; 

 but he was miserably poor. He had no means of supply- 

 ing his most urgent wants, or procuring the barest necessa- 

 ries of life. Still he hesitated; — he had scarcely a rag to 

 cover him — and his wife and his children were starving. 

 The sum oSered was great, — it would provide him and his 

 family with food for life. At length, and reluctantly, he 

 consented. He brought the mare to the dwelling of the 

 consul, — he dismounted, — he stood leaning upon her; — 

 he looked now at his gold, and then at his favourite; he 

 sighed — he wept. ' To whom is it,' said he, ' I am going 

 to yield thee up? To Europeans, who will tie thee close, — 

 who will beat thee, — who will render thee miserable. 

 Return with me my beauty, my jewel, and rejoice the 

 hearts of my children.' As he pronounced the last words, 

 he sprung upon her back, and was out of sight in a mo- 

 ment. ' 



"The next anecdote is scarcely less touching, and not 

 so well known. Ibrahim, a poor but worthy Arab, una- 

 ble to pay a sum of money which he owed, was compelled 

 to allow a merchant of Rama to become partner with him 

 in a valuable mare. When the time came, he could not 

 redeem his pledge to this man, and the mare was sol J. 

 Her pedigree could be traced on the side of sire and dam 

 for full five hundred years. The price was three hundred 

 pounds, an enormous sum in that country. Ibrahim went 

 frequently to Rama to inquire after the mare: he would 

 embrace her, — wipe her eyes with his handkerchief, — rub 

 her with his shirt sleeves, — and give her a thousand bene- 

 dictions during whole hours that he remained talking to 

 her. ' My eyes,' would he say to her, ' my soul ! my 

 heart! must I be so unfortunate as to have thee sold to so 

 many masters, and not keep thee myself.' I am poor, my 

 antelope! I brought thee up in my dwelling as my child. 

 I did never beat nor chide thee; I caressed thee in the 

 proudest manner. God preserve thee, my beloved ! thou 

 art beautiful, thou art sweet, thou art lovely ! God defend 

 thee from envious eyes!' 



"Sir John Malcolm gives two anecdotes to the same 

 purpose, but of a more amusing nature. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



33 



" 'When the envoy, returning from his former mission, 

 was encamped near Bagdad, an Arab rode a bright bay- 

 mare of extraordinary shape and beauty before his tent, 

 until he attracted his attention. On being asked if he 

 would sell her — 'What will you give me?' was the reply. 

 'That depends upon her age; I suppose she is past five?' 

 ' Guess again,' said he. ' Four?' ' Look at her mouth,' 

 said the Arab, Mrith a smile. On examination, she was 

 found to be rising three. This, from her size and symme- 

 try, greatly enhanced her value. The envoy said, ' I will 

 give you fifty tomans,' (a coin nearly of the value of a 

 pound sterling.) 'A little more, if you please,' said the 

 fellow, apparently entertained. ' Eighty — a hundred.' 

 He shook his head, and smiled. The offer at last came to 

 two hundred tomans. ' Well,' said the Arab, ' j^ou need 

 not tempt me further — it is of no use. You are a rich 

 elchee (nobleman.) You have fine horses, camels, and 

 mules, and, I am told, you have loads of silver and gold. 

 Now,' added he, 'you want my mare, but you shall not 

 have her for all you have got ' 



" 'An Arab sheick, or chief, who lived within fifty 

 miles of Bussorah, had a favourite breed of Horses. 

 He lost one of his best mai-es, and could not for a long 

 while discover whether she was stolen, or had strayed. 

 Some time after, a young man of a different tribe, who had 

 long wished to marry his daughter, but had always been 

 rejected by the sheick, obtained the lady's consent, and 

 eloped with her. The sheick and his followers pursued, 

 but the lover and his mistress, mounted on one Horse, 

 made a wonderful march, and escaped. The old chief 

 swore that the fellow was either mounted upon the devil, 

 or the favourite mare he had lost. After his return, he 

 found that the latter was the case; that the lover was the 

 thief of his mare as well as his daughter; and that he stole 

 the one to carry off the other. The chief was quite grati- 

 fied to think he had not been beaten by a mare of another 

 breed; and was easily reconciled to the young man, in 

 order that he might recover the mare, which appeared an 

 object about which he was more solicitous than about his 

 daughter.' 



The enterprising traveller. Major Denham, affords us a 

 j)leasing instance of the attachment with which the docility 

 and sagacity of the Horse, may inspire the owner. He thus 

 relates the death of his favourite Arabian, in one of the most 

 desert spots of Central Africa. His feelings needed no apolo- 

 gy. We naturally honour the man in whom true sensibility 

 and undaunted courage, exerted for useful purposes, were 

 thus united: — ' There are few situations in a man's life in 

 which losses of this nature are felt most keenly ; and this was 

 one of them. It was not grief, but it was something very 

 nearly approaching to it; and though I felt ashamed of the 

 I 



degree of derangement I suffered from it, yet it was seve- 

 ral days before I could get over the loss. Let it, however, 

 be remembered that the poor animal had been my support 

 and comfort, — nay, I may say, my companion, through 

 many a dreary day and night; — had endured both hunger 

 and thirst in my service; and so docile, that he would 

 stand still for hours in the desert while I slept between 

 his legs, his body aflTording me the only shelter that could 

 be obtained from the powerful influence of a noon-day 

 sun; — he was yet the fleetest of the fleet, and ever fore- 

 most in the chase.' 



" Our Horses would fare badly on the scanty nourishment 

 afforded the Arabian. The mare usually has but one or two 

 meals in the twenty -four hours. During the day she is tied 

 to the door of the tent, ready for the Bedouin to spring, at 

 a moment's warning, into the saddle; or she is turned 

 out before the tent ready saddled, the bridle merely taken 

 off, and so trained that she gallops up immediately at her 

 master's call. At night she receives a little water; and 

 with her scanty provender of five or six pounds of barley, 

 or beans, and sometimes a little straw, she lies down con- 

 tent in the midst of her master's family. She can, how- 

 ever, endure great fatigue; she will travel fifty miles with- 

 out stopping; she has been pushed, on emergency, one 

 hundred and twenty miles; and, occasionally, neither she 

 nor her rider has tasted food for three whole days. 

 [To be continued.'] 



THE LION. 



The most interesting object of a menagerie is probably 

 its Lion; and there are few persons who are not familiar 

 with the general appearance of this most powerful animal. 

 To behold, in perfect security, that creature which is the 

 terror of all travellers in the regions where he abounds; 

 which is said to be able to bear oflf a buffalo on his back, 

 and crush the skull of a horse by a single stroke of his paw 

 — this is certainly gratifying to a reasonable curiosity. 

 The appearance of dignified self-possession which the Lion 

 displays when at rest; his general indifference to slight pro- 

 vocations; his haughty growl, when he is roused by the 

 importunities of his keepers, or the excitement of the mul- 

 titude; his impatient roar when he is expecting his daily 

 meal, and his frightful avidity, when he is at length ena- 

 bled to seize upon his allotted portion; — these are traits of 

 his character in confinement, which are familiar to almost 

 every one. 



To comprehend the habits of the Lion, we must not be 




34 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



satisfied to observe him in menageries; but we must follow 

 with attention the narratives of those travellers who have 

 seen him in his native haunts. From the Cape of Good 

 Hope, for instance, an adventurous naturalist sets forth to 

 explore the immense plains of the interior of Southern 

 Africa. His journey is performed partly on foot, and 

 partly in a wagon drawn by eight or ten oxen. His escort 

 consists of a few sturdy Hottentots, accustomed to the 

 country into which he desires to penetrate — excellent 

 marksmen — and expert in following up the track of every 

 wild or ferocious beast. Further and further he rolls on 

 from the abodes of civilization, and soon finds himself sur- 

 rounded by tribes of Bushmen, or Caffres, who live in a 

 rude but contented manner, depending for subsistence upon 

 their flocks and upon the chase, and knowing very few of 

 those agricultural arts by which their arid plains might be 

 partially redeemed from sterility. At length he reaches 

 those parts where ferocious animals abound; and where the 

 Lion, particularly, is an object of dread. Having passed the 

 borders of European colonization, his fears are first excited 

 by viewing the footmarks of the Lion. His Hottentot 

 guides have their tales of terror ready for the traveller, 

 who beholds, for the first time, the impress of those tre- 

 mendous feet upon the sands of the plain which he is to 

 cross; and they are ready to show their skill in tracking, 

 if necessary, the prowling savage to his lair. So nice is 

 this faculty in a Hottentot, of tracking footsteps, that Mr. 

 Barrow tells us he will distinguish the wolf from the do- 

 mestic dog, by the largeness of the ball of the foot, and the 

 comparative smallness of the toes; and will single out, 

 amongst a thousand, any of his companions' feet. This is 

 an effect of education — an ability produced by the constant 

 exercise of a peculiar faculty, which has been acquired by 

 early training. It is the same ability by which a skilful 

 shepherd is enabled to know every individual sheep belong- 

 ing to his flock; and its exercise, in each case, proceeds 

 from that habit of attention which enables the human mind 

 to attain excellence in every pursuit. But even a Hotten- 

 tot does not discover the footsteps of a Lion without fear. 

 Mr. Burchell, with his man Gert, was in search of a party 

 who had killed a hippopotamus. They were hurrying on 

 through a willow-grove, when the Hottentot suddenly 

 stopped, and cried out, with some emotion, "Look here, 

 sir!" Mr. Burchell continues: — " I turned my eyes 

 downwards, and saw the recent footmarks of a Lion, which 

 had been to drink at the river, apparently not more than 

 an hour before. This gave a check to our dialogue on the 

 hippopotamus; and, in a lower and graver tone of voice, 

 he talked now only of Lions, and the danger of being 

 alone in a place so covered with wood." That immediate 

 danger passed away, but new fears of the same nature were 



constantly presenting themselves. Mr. Barrow says: — 

 " It seems to be a fact well established, that the Lion pre- 

 fers the flesh of a Hottentot to any other creature;" and 

 the same writer states, in another place, that this powerful 

 and treacherous animal seldom makes an open attack, but, 

 like the rest of the feline genus, lies in ambush, till it can 

 conveniently spring upon its prey. The best security 

 which man and beast have against the attacks of the Lion, 

 is found in his indolence; he requires the strong excite- 

 ment of hunger to be roused to a pursuit; but when he is 

 roused, his vaunted magnanimity is no protection, even for 

 a sleeping foe, as the poets have pretended. 



We must, however, follow our African traveller a little 

 further in his career of observation. A lowering evening 

 comes on; thunder clouds collect in every quarter; and the 

 night becomes extremely dark. The most vivid flashes of 

 lightning are intermingled with the heaviest torrents of 

 rain. The cattle are restless; and the Hottentots are pre- 

 vented making their evening fire for the cookery of their 

 supper, and for defence against the beasts of prey. On 

 such nights as these the Lion is particularly active. The 

 fury of the elements appears to rouse him from his ordi- 

 nary torpidity. He advances upon his prey with much 

 less than his usual caution; and he is not at once driven off 

 by the barking of dogs and the sound of muskets. The 

 oxen of the caravan, who appear to scent the distant ap- 

 proach of their terrible enemy, struggle to break loose from 

 their wagons to escape their danger by instant flight — an 

 escape which would prove their destruction. It is only by 

 keeping with man that they are safe. The repeated dis- 

 charge of fire-arms has the remarkable efiect not only of 

 keeping off the Lion, but of abating the restlessness of 

 the cattle. They appear to feel that their enemy will 

 retreat when he hears this demonstration of the powers of 

 the only creature that is enabled, by superior reason, to 

 cope with him. Nights of such harassing watchfulness are 

 frequently experienced by the African traveller. 



It is no uncommon thing in the plains of Southern 

 Africa, to encounter innumerable herds of wild animals, 

 quietly grazing like tame cattle. Wherever the quagga, 

 (a species of wild ass,) the sprinkbok, and the hartebeest, 

 (the Dutch names for two varieties of the antelope,) are 

 found, there will be Lions, numerous in proportion, for 

 the destruction of their prey. Of course, those formidable 

 beasts can only exist where the means of their support are 

 to be procured. They are destined to live on animal food; 

 and, therefore, where there are flocks and herds, whether 

 in a wild or a domestic state, there they will be also. Mr. 

 Campbell states that the quagga migrates in winter from 

 the tropics to the vicinity of the Malaleveen river; which, 

 though farther to the south, is reported to be considerably 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



warmer than within the tropics, when the sun has retired foot, and unarmed, without any visible possibility of 



to the northern hemisphere. He saw bands of two or three 

 hundred quaggas, all travelling southward. They are 

 followed by Lions, who slaughter them night by night; 

 and what the Lions leave of the carcases of these unfortu- 

 nate animals, is devoured by the vultures and the Bushmen. 

 Even the buffalo, whose forehead, when he is of mature 

 age, is completely covered with a rugged mass of horn as 

 hard as a rock, the fibres of whose muscles are like so 

 many bundles of cords, and whose hide is little inferior in 

 strength and thickness to that of the rhinoceros — even he 

 is not safe from the attacks of the Lion. " He lies waiting 

 for him in ambush till a convenient opportunity offers for 

 springing upon the buffalo, and fixing his fangs in his 

 throat; then sticking his paw into the animal's face, he 

 twists round the head, and pins him to the ground by the 

 horns, holding him in that situation till he expires from 

 loss of blood." 



It has been often stated by Mr. Pringle, upon the autho- 

 rity of a chief of the Bechuanas, that the Lion, after he 

 has made his fatal spring upon the giraffe, when he comes 

 to drink at the pools, is carried away for miles, fixed on 

 the neck of that fleet and powerful creature, before his 

 victim sinks under him. 



To the traveller in Africa, the Lion is formidable, not 

 at night only; he lies in his path, and is with difficulty 

 disturbed to allow a passage for his wagons and cattle, even 

 when the sun is shining with its utmost brilliancy: or he 

 is roused from some bushy place on the road-side, by the 

 indefatigable dogs which always accompany a caravan. 

 Mr. Burchell has described, with great spirit, an encounter 

 of this nature: — 



" The day was exceedingly pleasant, and not a cloud 

 was to be seen. For a mile or two we travelled along the 

 banks of the river, which in this part abounded in tall 

 mat-rushes. The dogs seemed much to enjoy prowling 

 about and examining every bushy place, and at last met 

 with some object among the rushes which caused them to 

 set up a most vehement and determined barking. We ex- 

 plored the spot with caution, as we suspected, from the 

 peculiar tone of their bark, that it was what it proved to 



be. Lions. Having 



out, a task which they performed with great willi 



we had a full view of an enormous black-maned Lion and 



a Lioness. The latter was seen only for a minute, as she 



made her escape up the river, under concealment of the 



rushes; but the Lion came steadily forward, and stood 



still to look at us. At this moment, we felt our situation 



not free from danger, as the animal seemed preparing to 



spring upon us, and we were standing on the bank at the 



distance of only a few yards from him, most of us being on 



escap- 

 mg. I had given up my horse to the hunters, and was on 

 foot myself; but there was no time for fear, and it was 

 useless to attempt avoiding him. I stood well upon my 

 guard, holding my pistols in my hand, with my finger 

 upon the trigger,— and those who had muskets kept them- 

 selves prepared in the same manner. But at this instant, 

 the dogs boldly flew in between us and the Lion, and sur- 

 rounding him, kept him at bay, by their violent and reso- 

 lute barking. The courage of these faithful animals was 

 most admirable; they advanced up to the side of the huge 

 beast, and stood making the greatest clamour in his face, 

 without the least appearance of fear. The Lion, conscious 

 of his strength, remained unmoved at their noisy attempts, 

 and kept his head turned towards us. At one moment, 

 the dogs perceiving his eyes thus engaged, had advanced 

 close to his feet, and seemed as if they would actually 

 seize hold of him; but they paid dearly for their impru- 

 dence, for, without discomposing the majestic and steady 

 attitude in which he stood fixed, he merely moved his paw, 

 and at the next instant I beheld two lying dead. In doing 

 this, he made so little exertion that it was scarcely percep- 

 tible by what means they had been killed. Of the time 

 which we had gained by the interference of the dogs, not 

 a moment was lost; we fi^-ed upon him; one of the balls 

 went through his side just between the short ribs, and the 

 blood immediately began to flow, but the animal still re- 

 mained standing in the same position. We had now no 

 doubt that he would spring upon us; every gun was 

 instantly reloaded; but happily we were mistaken, and 

 were not sorry to see him move quietly away; though I 

 had hoped in a few minutes to have been enabled to take 

 hold of his paw without danger. 



"This was considered by our party to be a Lion of the 

 largest size, and seemed, as I measured him by compari- 

 son with the dogs, to be, though less bulky, as large as an 

 ox. He was certainly as long in body, though lower in 

 stature; and his copious mane gave him a truly formidable 

 appearance. He was of that variety which the Hottentots 

 and boors distinguish by the name of the black Lion, on 

 account of the blacker colour of the mane, and which is 



encouraged the dogs to drive them said to be always larger and more dangerous than the 

 other, which they call ti\e pale Lion, (vaal \eeuw.) Of 

 the courage of the Lion I have no very high opinion; but 

 of his majestic air and movements, as exhibited by this 

 animal, while at liberty in his native plains, I can bear 

 testimony. Notwithstanding the pain of a wound, of 

 which he must soon afterwards have died, he moved 

 slowly away with a stately and measured step. 

 . "At the time when men first adopted the Lion as the 

 emblem of courage, it would seem that they regarded great 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



size and strength as indicating it; but they were greatly 

 mistaken in the character they have given to this indolent, 

 skulking animal, and have overlooked a much better ex- 

 ample of true courage, and of other virtues also, in the 

 bold and faithful dog." 



[To be confi)wed.] 



CANVAS-BACK DUCK. 

 ^N^S VJiLISINERlJi. 



[Plate IV. Vol. 2.] 



Collection of S. P. Gkiffitts, Esq. 



This celebrated American species, as far as can be 

 judged from the best figures and descriptions of foreign 

 birds, is altogether unknown in Europe. It approaches 

 nearest to the Pochard of England, ,/inas ferina, but dif- 

 fers from that bird in being superior in size and weight, in 

 the greater magnitude of its bill, and the general whiteness 

 of its plumage. A short comparison of the two will eluci- 

 date this point. The Canvas-ba^ik measures two feet in 

 length, by three feet in extent, and when in the best order 

 weighs three pounds and upwards. The Pochard, according 

 to Latham and Bewick, measures nineteen inches in length, 

 and thirty in extent, and weighs one pound twelve or 

 thirteen ounces. The latter writer says of the Pochard, 

 " the plumage above and below is wholly covered with 

 prettily freckled slender dusky threads, disposed trans- 

 versely in close set zig-zag lines, on a pale ground, more 

 or less shaded off with ash;" a description much more 

 applicable to the bird figured beside it, the Red Head, and 

 which very probably is the species meant. In the figure 

 of the Pochard given by Mr. Bewick, who is generally 

 correct, the bill agrees very well with that of our Red 

 Head, but is scarcely half the size and thickness of that of 

 the Canvas-back; and the figure in the Planches Enlumi- 

 nees corresponds in that respect with Bewick's. In short, 

 either these writers are egregiously erroneous in their 

 figures and descriptions, or the present Duck was altogether 

 unknown to them. Considering the latter supposition the 

 more probable of the two, I have designated this as a new 

 species,- and shall proceed to detail some particulars of its 

 history. 



The Canvas-back Duck arrives in the United States from 

 the north about the middle of October; a few descend to 

 the Hudson and Delaware, but the great body of these 

 birds resort to the numerous rivers belonging to and in 



the neighbourhood of the Chesapeake Bay, particularly 

 the Susquehanna, the Patapsco, Potomac, and James' 

 Rivers, which appear to be their general winter rendez- 

 vous. Beyond this, to the south, I can find no certain 

 accounts of them. At the Susquehanna they are called Can- 

 vas-backs, on the Potomac, ITTiite-backs, and on James' 

 River, Sheldrakes. They are seldom found at a great 

 distance up any of these rivers, or even in the salt water 

 bay; but in that particular part of tide water where a 

 certain grass-like plant grows, on the roots of which they 

 feed. This plant, which is said to be a species of Valisi- 

 neria, grows on fresh water shoals of from seven to nine 

 feet, (but never where they are occasionally dry,) in long 

 narrow grass-like blades of four or five feet in length; the 

 root is white, and has some resemblance to small celery. 

 This grass is in many places so thick that a boat can with 

 difficulty be rowed through it, it so impedes the oars. 

 The shores are lined with large quantities of it torn up by 

 the Ducks, and drifted up by the winds, lying like hay in 

 wind rows. Wherever this plant grows in abundance the 

 Canvas-backs may be expected, either to pay occasional 

 visits, or to make it their regular residence during the 

 winter. It occurs in some parts of the Hudson; in the 

 Delaware, near Gloucester, a few miles below Philadel- 

 phia; and in most of the rivers that fall into the Chesa- 

 peake, to each of which particular places these Ducks 

 resort; while in waters unprovided with this nutritive 

 plant they are altogether unknown. 



On the first arrival of these birds in the Susquehanna, 

 near Havre-de-grace, they are generally lean; but such is 

 the abundance of their favourite food, that towards the 

 beginning of November they are in pretty good order. 

 They are excellent divers, and swim with great speed and 

 agility. They sometimes assemble in such multitudes as 

 to cover several acres of the river, and when they rise sud- 

 denly, produce a noise resembling thunder. They float about 

 these shoals, diving and tearing up the grass by the roots, 

 which is the only part they eat. They are extremely shy, 

 and can rarely be approached unless by stratagem. When 

 wounded in the wing, they dive to such prodigious dis- 

 tances, and with such rapidity, continuing it so persever- 

 ingly, and with such cunning and active vigour, as almost 

 always to render the pursuit hopeless. From the great 

 demand for these Ducks, and the high price they uniformly 

 bring in market, various modes are practised to get within 

 gunshot of them. The most successful way is said to be, 

 decoying them to the shore by means of a dog, while the 

 gunner lies closely concealed in a proper situation. The 

 dog, if properly trained, plays backwards and forwards 

 along the margin of the water, and the Ducks observing 

 his manoeuvres, enticed perhaps by curiosity, gradually 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



approach the shore, until they are sometimes within twenty 

 or thirty yards of the spot where the gunner lies concealed, 

 and from which he rakes them, first on the water, and 

 then as they rise. This method is called tolling them in. 

 If the Ducks seem difficult to decoy, any glaring object, 

 such as a red handkerchief, is fixed round the dog's mid- 

 dle, or to his tail, and this rarely fails to attract them. 

 Sometimes, by moonlight, the sportsman directs his skiff 

 towards a flock, whose position he had previously ascer- 

 tained, keeping within the projecting shadow of some wood, 

 bank, or headland, and paddles along so silently and imper- 

 ceptibly, as often to approach within fifteen or twenty 

 yards of a flock of many thousands, among whom he gene- 

 rally makes great slaughter. 



Many other stratagems are practised, and indeed every 

 plan that the ingenuity of the experienced sportsman can 

 suggest, to approach within gunshot of these birds; but of 

 all the modes pursued, none intimidate them so much as 

 shooting them by night; and they soon abandon the place 

 where they have been thus repeatedly shot at. During 

 the day they are dispersed about; but towards evening 

 collect in large flocks, and come into the mouths of creeks, 

 where they often ride as at anchor, with their head under 

 their wing, asleep, there being always sentinels awake, 

 ready to raise an alarm on the least appearance of danger. 

 Even when feeding and diving in small parties, the whole 

 never go down at one time, but some are still left above 

 on the look-out. 



When the winter sets in severely, and the river is 

 frozen, the Canvas-backs retreat to its confluence with the 

 bay, occasionally frequenting air-holes in the ice, which 

 are sometimes made for the purpose, immediately above 

 tlieir favourite grass, to entice them within gunshot of the 

 hut or bush which is usually fixed at a proper distance, and 

 where the gunner lies concealed ready to take advantage of 

 tlieir distress. A Mr. Hill, who lives near James' River, at a 

 place called Herring Creek, informs me, that one severe 

 winter he and another person broke a hole in the ice about 

 twenty by forty feet, immediately over a shoal of grass, 

 and took their stand on the shore, in a hut or bush, each 

 having three guns well loaded with large shot. The Ducks, 

 which were flying up and down the river in great extre- 

 mity, soon crowded to this place, so that the whole open 

 space was not only covered with them, but vast numbers 

 stood on the ice around it. They had three rounds, firing 

 both at once, and picked up eighty-eight Canvas-backs, and 

 might have collected more had they been able to get to 

 the extremity of the ice after the wounded ones. In 

 the severe winter of 1779-80, the grass, on the roots of 

 which these birds feed, was almost wholly destroyed in 

 James' River. In the month of January the wind conti- 



nued to blow from W. N. W. for twenty-one days, which 

 caused such low tides in the river that the grass froze to 

 the ice every where, and a thaw coming on suddenly, the 

 whole was raised by the roots, and carried ofi" by the fresh. 

 The next winter a few of these Ducks were seen, but they 

 soon went away again; and for many years after, they con- 

 tinued to be scarce; and even to the present day, in the 

 opinion of my informant, have never been so plenty as 

 before. 



The Canvas-back, in the rich juicy tenderness of its 

 flesh, and its delicacy and flavour, stands unrivalled by the 

 whole of its tribe, in this or perhaps any other quarter of 

 the world. Those killed in the waters of the Chesapeake 

 are generally esteemed superior to all others, doubtless 

 from the great abundance of their favourite food which 

 these rivers produce. At our public dinners, hotels, and 

 particular entertainments, the Canvas-backs are universal 

 favourites. They not only grace but dignify the table, 

 and their very name conveys to the imagination of the 

 eager epicure, the most comfortable and exhilarating ideas. 

 Hence on such occasions, it has not been uncommon to pay 

 from one to three dollars a pair for these Ducks; and, in- 

 deed, at such times, if they can they must be had, what- 

 ever may be the price. 



The Canvas-back will feed readily on grain, especially 

 wheat, and may be decoyed to particular places by baiting 

 them with that grain for several successive days. Some 

 few years since, a vessel loaded with wheat, was wrecked 

 near the entrance of Great Egg-Harbour, in the autumn, 

 and went to pieces. The wheat floated out in vast quan- 

 tities, and the whole surface of the bay was in a few days 

 covered with Ducks of a kind altogether unknown to the 

 people of that quarter. The gunners of the neighbour- 

 hood collected in boats in every direction, shooting them; 

 and so successful were they, that, as Mr. Beasley informs 

 me, two hundred and forty were killed in one day, and 

 sold among the neighbours, at twelve and a half cents a 

 piece, without the feathers. The wounded ones were 

 generally abandoned, as being too diflicult to be come up 

 with. They continued about three weeks, and during the 

 greater part of that time a continual cannonading was heard 

 from every quarter. The gunners called them Sea Ducks. 

 They were all Canvas-backs, at that time on their way 

 from the north, when this floating feast attracted their 

 attention, and for awhile arrested them in their course. A 

 pair of these very Ducks I myself bought in Philadelphia 

 market at the time, from an Egg-Harbour gunner, and 

 never met with their superior either in weight or excel- 

 lence of flesh. When it was known among those people 

 the loss they had sustained in selling for twenty-five cents 

 what would have brought them from a dollar to a dollar 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



and a half per pair, universal surprise and regret were na- 

 turally enough excited. 



The Canvas-back is two feet long, and three feet in ex- 

 tent, and when in good order weighs three pounds; the 

 bill is large, rising high in the head, three inches in length, 

 and one inch and three-eighths thick at the base, of a 

 glossy black; eye very small; irides dark red; cheeks, and 

 fore part of the head, blackish brown; rest of the head, and 

 greater part of the neck, bright glossy reddish chesnut, 

 ending in a broad space of black that covers the upper part 

 of the breast, and spreads round to the back; back, scapu- 

 lars and tertials, white, faintly marked with an infinite 

 number of transverse waving lines, or points, as if done 

 with a pencil ; whole lower parts of the breast, also the belly, 

 white, slightly pencilled in the same manner, scarcely 

 perceptible on the breast, pretty thick towards the vent; 

 wing coverts gray, with numerous specks of blackish; 

 primaries and secondaries, pale slate, two or three of the 

 latter of which nearest the body, are finely edged with 

 deep velvetty black, the former dusky at the tips; tail very 

 short, pointed, consisting of fourteen feathers of a hoary 

 brown; vent and tail coverts, black; lining of the wing, 

 white; legs and feet, very pale ash, the latter three inches 

 in width, a circumstance which partly accounts for its 

 great powers of swimming. 



The female is somewhat less than the male, and weighs 

 , two pounds and three-quarters; the crown is blackish- 

 brown; cheeks and throat of a pale drab; neck, dull brown; 

 breast, as far as the black extends on the male, dull brown, 

 skirted in places with pale drab; back, dusty white, 

 crossed with fine waving lines; belly, of the same dull 

 white, pencilled like the back: wings, feet, and bill, as in 

 the male; tail coverts dusky, vent white waved with 

 brown. 



The windpipe of the male has a large flattish concave 

 labyrinth, the ridge of which is covered with a thin trans- 

 parent membrane; where the trachea enters this it is very 

 narrow, but immediately above swells to three times that 

 diameter. The intestines are wide, and measure five feet 

 in length. 



Note. — It is a circumstance calculated to excite our sur- 

 prise, that the Canvas-back, one of the commonest species 

 of our country, — a Duck which frequents the waters of the 

 Chesapeake in flocks of countless thousands, should yet 

 have been either overlooked by the naturalists of Europe, 

 or confounded with the Pochard, a species whose characters 

 are so obviously different. But that this is the fact, I feel 

 well assured, since I have carefully examined every author 

 of repute to which I have had access, and have not been 

 enabled to find any description which will correspond to 

 the subject before us. The species, then, we hope, will 



stand as Wilson's own; and it is no small addition to the 

 fame of the American Ornithology, that it contains the first 

 scientific account of the finest Duck that any country can 

 boast of. 



The Canvas-back Ducks frequent the Delaware in consid- 

 erable numbers. The Fix/is/nena grows pretty abundantly 

 in various places, from Burlington, New-Jersey, to Eagle 

 Point, a few miles below Philadelphia. Wherever this 

 plant is found, there will the Ducks be; and they will fre- 

 quently venture within reach of their enemies' weapons 

 rather than abstain from the gratification of their appetite 

 for this delicious food. The shooters in the neighbourhood 

 of Philadelphia for many years were in the habit of sup- 

 plying our markets with this species, which always bore 

 the name of Red-heads, or Red-necks; and their ignorance 

 of its being the true Canvas-back was cunningly fostered by 

 our neighbours of the Chesapeake, who boldly asserted that 

 only their watefs were favoured with this species, and that 

 all other Ducks, which seemed to claim affinity, were a 

 spurious race, unworthy of consanguinity. Hence at the 

 same time when a pair of legitimate Canvas-backs, proudly 

 exhibited from the mail-coach, from Havre-de-Grace, rea- 

 dily sold for two dollars and fifty cents, a pair of the iden- 

 tical species, as fat, as heavy, as delicious, but which had 

 been unfortunately killed in the Delaware, brought only 

 one dollar; and the lucky shooter thought himself suffi- 

 ciently rewarded in obtaining twenty-five per cent, more 

 for his Bed-necks, than he could obtain for a pair of the 

 finest JMallards that our waters could aflford. But the delu- 

 sion is now passed; every shooter and huckster knows the 

 distinctive characters of the Canvas-back and the Red- 

 head; and prejudice no longer controverts the opinion that 

 this species is a common inhabitant of the Delaware; and 

 epicures are compelled to confess that they can discern no 

 diSerence between our Canvas-back, when in season, and 

 that from Spesutie, or Carrol's Island, the notorious shoot- 

 ing ground of the hon-vivants of Baltimore. 



The last mentioned place, though commonly termed an 

 island, is properly a peninsula, situated on the western side 

 of the Chesapeake Bay, a few miles from Baltimore. It is 

 a spot highly favourable for the shooting of water fowl. It 

 extends for a considerable distance into the bay; and, being 

 connected with the main land by a narrow neck, the shoot- 

 ers are enabled to post themselves advantageously on the 

 isthmus; and intercept the fowl, who, in roving from one 

 feeding ground to another, commonly prefer crossing the 

 land to taking a long flight around the peninsula. In calm 

 weather the shooters have not much luck, the Ducks keep- 

 ing out in the coves, and, when they do move, flying high; 

 but should a fresh breeze preva.il, especially one from the 

 eastward, rare sport may be anticipated; and it is no unusual 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



circumstance for a party of four or five gentlemen return- 

 ing home, after a couple of days' excursion, with fifty or 

 sixty Canvas-backs, besides some other Ducks of inferior 

 note. The greatest flight of Ducks commonly takes place 

 between daybreak and sunrise, and, while it lasts, the roar- 

 ing of the fowling-pieces, the bustle of the sportsmen, the 

 fluttering of the fowl, and the plunging of the dogs, consti- 

 tute a scene productive of intense interest. The dog in 

 most esteem for this amusement is a large breed, partaking 

 of the qualities of the Newfoundland variety. They trust 

 altogether to their sight, and it is astonishing what sagacity 

 they will manifest in watching a flock of Ducks that had 

 been shot at, and marking the birds that drop into the wa- 

 ter, even at a considerable distance ofi". When at fault, 

 the motion of their master's hand is readily obeyed by them; 

 and when unable to perceive the object of their search, 

 they will raise themselves in the water for this purpose, 

 and will not abandon the pursuit while a chance remains of 

 succeeding. A generous, well-trained dog, has been known 

 to follow a Duck for more than half a mile; and, after hav- 

 ing been long beyond the reach of seeing or hearing his 

 master, to return, puffing and snorting under his load, 

 which seemed sufficient to drag him beneath the waves. 

 The Editor having been an eye-witness of similar feats of 

 these noble animals, can therefore speak with confidence 

 as to the fact. 



On the Delaware but few of this species, comparatively, 

 are obtained, for the want of proper situations whence they 

 may be shot on the wing. To attempt to approach them, 

 in open day, with a boat, is unproductive labour, except 

 there be floating ice in the river, at which time, if the 

 shooter clothe himself in white, and paint his skifi" of the 

 same colour, he may so deceive the Ducks as to get within 

 a few feet of them. At such times it is reasonable to sup- 

 pose that these valuable birds get no quarter. But there is 

 one caution to be observed, which experienced sportsmen 

 never omit: it is to go always ivith the current; a Duck 

 being sagacious enough to know that a lump of ice seldom 

 advances against the stream. They are often shot, with 

 us, by moonlight, in the mode related in the foregoing ac- 

 count; the first pair the Editor ever killed, was in this 

 manner; he was then a boy, and was not a little gi-atified 

 with his uncommon acquisition. 



As the Valisineria, will grow in all our fresh water 

 rivers, in coves, or places not affected by the current, it 

 would be worth the experiment to transplant this vegetable 

 in those waters where it at present is unknown. There is 

 little doubt the Canvas-backs would, by this means, be 

 attracted; and thus would afford the lovers of good eating 

 an opportunity of tasting a delicacy, which in the opinion 

 of many, is unrivalled by the whole feathered race. 



In the spring, when the Duck-grass becomes scarce, the 

 Canvas-backs are compelled to subsist upon other food, 

 particularly shell-fish; their flesh then loses its delicacy of 

 flavour, and although still fat, it is not esteemed by epi- 

 cures; hence the Ducks are not much sought after; and are 

 permitted quietly to feed until their departure for the north. 



Our author states that he had had no certain accounts of 

 this species to the southward of James' River, Virginia. In 

 the month of January, 181S, I saw many hundreds of 

 these Ducks feeding in the Savannah River, not far from 

 Tybee light-house. They were known by the name of 

 Canvas-backs; but the inhabitants of that quarter considered 

 them as fishing Ducks, not fit to be eaten: so said the pilot 

 of the ship which bore me to Savannah. But a pair of 

 these birds having been served up at table, after my arri- 

 val, I was convinced, by their delicate flavour, that they 

 had lost little by their change of residence, but still main- 

 tained their superiority over all the water fowl of that 

 region. In the river St. John, in East Florida, I also saw 

 a few scattered individuals of this species; but they were 

 too shy to be approached within gunshot. 



The Canvas-backs swim very low, especially when fat; 

 and when pursued by a boat, they stretch themselves out 

 in lines in the manner of the Scaup Ducks, so that some of 

 the flock are always enabled to reconnoitre the paddler, 

 and give information to the rest, of his motions. When 

 the look-out Ducks apprehend danger, the stretching up of 

 their necks is the signal, and immediately the whole 

 squadron, facing to the wind, rise with a noise which may 

 be heard at the distance of half a mile. 



The guns employed in Canvas-back shooting should be 

 of a medium length and caliber; and of the most approved 

 patent breech. My experience has taught me that a barrel of 

 three feet seven inches, with a bore short of seven-eighths 

 of an inch, is quite as effective as one of greater dimensions, 

 and is certainly more convenient. It may appear a work 

 of supererogation to speak of the quality of powder to be 

 used in this kind of sporting; and yet so often are shooters 

 deceived in this article, either through penuriousness or 

 negligence, that a word of advice may not be unprofita- 

 ble. One should obtain the best powder, without regard 

 to price; it being an indispensable maxim in shooting, but 

 which is too often forgotten, that the best is always the 

 cheapest. — PVilsori's Ornithology. 



[As the Red-headed Duck is so frequently imposed on purchasers 

 for the Canvas-back, from the Philadelpliia and other markets, we 

 have thought it advisable to introduce both birds in the same Plate, 

 (vide Plate IV. Vol. 2,) when it will be seen, that the di.sting-uishinjr 

 marks are chiefly confined to the bill, eyes, head, and size of the birds; 

 the Red-head being- the smallest bird, and having a brighter red over 

 the whole head.— Ed. 1 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



RED-HEADED DUCK. 

 "* ^NJIS FERINE. 



[Plate IV. Vol.2.] 



t^nas Ferina, Gmel. i. p. 530, No. 31. — ^nas ritfa, Id. 

 p. 515.— Ind. Orn. p. 862, No. 77; p. 863, No. 78.— 

 Rufous 7iecked-Duck, Gen. Syn. iii. p. 477, No. 32. — 

 Pochard, Id. p. 523, No. 68. — Red-headed Duck, Law- 

 son's Carolina, p. 150. — Bewick ii. p. 320. — Arct. 

 Zool. No. 491. Br. Zool. No. 284.— Ze Milloum, 

 Briss. VI. p. 384, No. 19, pi. 35. Jig. 1; Le Millouin 

 nois, Id. p. 389, A. young male? Le Millouin du 

 Mexique, Id. p. 390, No. 20, female, Buff. ix. p. 216. 

 PI. Enl. 803.— Temm. Mem. d'Orn. p. 669.— Wil- 

 LOUGHBT, p. 367, § XI. — Montagu, Oim. Diet. — Phi- 

 ladelphia Museum. 



This is a common associate of the Canvas-back, fre- 

 quenting the same places, and feeding on the stems of the 

 same grass, the latter eating only the roots; its flesh is very 

 little inferior, and it is often sold in our markets for the 

 Canvas-back, to those unacquainted with the characteristic 

 marks of each. Anxious as I am to determine precisely 

 whether this species be the Red-headed Wigeon, Pochard, 

 or Dun bird of England, I have not been able to ascertain 

 the point to my own satisfaction; though I think it very 

 probably the same, the size, extent, and general description 

 of the Pochard agreeing pretty nearly with this. 



The Red-head is twenty inches in length, and two feet 

 six inches in extent; bill, dark slate, sometimes black, two 

 inches long, and seven-eighths of an inch thick at the base, 

 furnished with a large broad nail at the extremity; irides, 

 flame-coloured; plumage of the head long, velvetty, and 

 inflated, running high above the base of the bill; head, and 

 about two inches of the neck, deep glossy reddish chesnut; 

 rest of the neck and upper part of the breast black, spread- 

 ing round to the back; belly white, becoming dusky 

 towards the vent by closely marked undulating lines of 

 black; back and scapulars, bluish white, rendered gray by 

 numerous transverse waving lines of black; lesser wing 

 coverts, brownish ash; wing quills, very pale slate, dusky 

 at the tips; lower part of the back, and sides under the 

 wings, brownish black, crossed with regular zig-zag lines 

 of whitish; vent, rump, tail, and tail coverts, black; legs 

 and feet, dark ash. 



The female has the upper part of the head dusky brown, 

 rest of the head and part of the neck, a light sooty brown; 

 upper part of the breast, ashy brown, broadly skirted with 

 whitish ; back, dark ash, with little or no appearance of white 

 pencilling; wings, bill, and feet, nearly alike in both sexes. 



This Duck is sometimes met with in the rivers of North 

 and South Carolina, and also in those of Jersey and New- 

 York; but always in fresh water, and usually at no great 

 distance from the sea. Is most numerous in the waters of 

 the Chesapeake, and with the connoisseurs in good eating, 

 ranks next in excellence to the Canvas-back. Its usual 

 weight is about a pound and three-quarters, avoirdupois. 



The Red-head leaves the bay and its tributary streams in 

 March, and is not seen until late in October. 



The male of this species has a large flat bony labyrinth on 

 the bottom of the windpipe, very much like that of the 

 Canvas-back, but smaller; over one of its concave sides is 

 spread an exceeding thin transparent skin, or membrane. 

 The intestines are of great width, and measure six feet in 

 length.— /6. 



From the New-England Galaxy. 



SOME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A 

 SPORTSMAN. 



[Continued from page 21.] 



It is impossible that the Sportsman should be other 

 than an admirer of nature. In all his solitary rambles, 

 whether upon the wild and lonely hill-side, or in the 

 heart of the pastoral valley; at the edge of the mirror-like 

 lake, or along the borders of the mountain brook, — his eye 

 is always filled with beautiful and picturesque objects. His 

 ear soon becomes familiar with the light carol of every bird 

 which inhabits the thicket or the forest; and his eye is soon 

 made acquainted with the whole lovely family of flowers, 

 which enamel the earth, and enrich the air with their wind- 

 scattered perfume. There is not a wild flower that nods 

 to him from the top of the verdant bank, or the vine-covered 

 precipice, or a bird that salutes him with its voluble over- 

 ture from its leafy dome, that he cannot recognize and call 

 by name. The speckled turtle, that plunges from its black 

 fortress into the pool, at the sound of his approaching step, 

 or the glittering snake, which hastens to conceal itself 

 beneath its bush, at his coming, are not unnoticed by him. 

 He has an eye open to the observance of all rural objects, 

 and an ear awake to the hearing of all woodland sounds. 



One of our most favourite places for ramble and sport, 

 has been Mount Holyoke, the most romantic link in that 

 chain of hills, which Nature has stretched along the west- 

 ern borders of this state. At its base rolls the broad and 

 fertilizing Connecticut. Behind it, hills after hills, like 

 successive ranks of an advancing host, lift up their vapoury 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



41 



summits, covered with verdure, and bristling with the 

 sharp spires of a thousand forests. Many a time have I 

 stood, surrounded by the mists and shadows that repose or 

 tumble around its summit, to behold the bright coming of 

 the dawn, or to admire the gradual departure of the twi- 

 light, from its loftiest peak, "the last to parley with the 

 setting sun." Poets have always delighted to select the 

 decaying glory of twilight, or the sober grandeur of even- 

 ing, as the themes for their song, — but it seems to me, 

 that they would find a far nobler theme for their verse, in 

 the first grey breaking of the dawn, and its first rosy flush 

 upon the mists and shadows that cover up the hills, as 

 with a garment. The most unromantic mind could not 

 contemplate such a scene with indifference. The spectator 

 seems, as it were, to be surrounded with an illimitable sea 

 of vapour, whose white surges perpetually boil and heave 

 around him. If I look into the dome above me, my eye can- 

 not penetrate the thick curtain of gloom that hangs around it; 

 if I cast my eye into the abyss around and beneath, I can- 

 not discern an object on the bosom of the green earth 

 below, for " shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it." 



" At once that sea of v.ipour 



Parted away, and melting' into air 



Rose round me, and I stood involved in light; 



As if a flame had kindled up, and wrapped me 



In its innocuous blaze. Away it rolled 



Wave after wave. Then climbed the highest rocks, 



Poured over them in surges, and then rushed 



Down glens and valleys, like a wintry torrent 



Dashed instant to the plain. It seemed a moment, 



And they were gone, as if the touch of fire 



At once dissolved them. Then I found myself 



Midway in air; — ridge after ridge below. 



Descended with their opulence of woods. 



Even to the dim-seen level, where a lake 



Flashed in the sun, and from it wound a line. 



Now silvery bright even to the farthest verge 



Of the encircling hills. A waste of rocks 



Was round me — but below how beautiful! 



How rich the plain! a wilderness of groves, 



And ripening harvests; while the sky of June — 



The soft blue of June, and the cool air. 



That makes it then a luxury to live 



Only to breathe it, and the busy echo 



Of cascades, and the voice of mountain-brooks. 



Stole with such gentle meanings to my heart, 



That where 1 stood seemed heaven." 



The verdure of the earth is then lost and mingled in a 

 thousand varied colours, made up of all the rich combina- 

 tions of the rainbow. The sky itself then seems to lose its 

 rich, deep azure, and the smoky vapours that then ascend 

 its dome, and repose in its serene chamber, seem to have 

 caught the variegated hues of the earth itself. Every moun- 

 tain turn and lonely pool, every brimming river and subsi- 

 L 



diary stream, is then richly tinged with a myriad of wavy 

 hues, caught from the reflected woods, or the overhanging 

 clouds. In the very depths of the woods the pine and fir, 

 and a few other evergreens, may still retain their verdant 

 tinge, the wild grape-vines also, which are among the last 

 to perish, may preserve their pure and lovely greenness, 

 but every where else the eye is dazzled with the gaudiest 

 combinations, of azure, purple, crimson, scarlet, yellow, 

 orange, and gold. All these rich varieties of colour, ren- 

 ders the wide drapery of the woods, inexpressibly lovely, 

 whether it is shaken and tossed about by the clear moun- 

 tain breeze, or remains utterly motionless in the profound 

 silence; so profound that nothing is audible, save, perhaps, 



The sound of nutshells, by the squirrel dropped 

 From some tall beech, fast falling through the leaves. 



I was once, I remember, rambling alone on those hills, on 

 a beautiful day in that period of the year, when the foliage, 

 having attained the perfection of its colouring, and drop- 

 ping in clouds from the trees, seemed to repeat that moni- 

 tory lesson, which Autumn has been so poetically repre- 

 sented as conveying. Nothing can exceed the glory of 

 our native woods at the autumnal period, when the forest 

 casts the leaf, and 



When the sound of dropping nuts is heard 



Though all the trees are still; 

 And twinkle in the smoky light 



The waters of the rill. 



I had been rambling the whole day, with my gun, upon 

 that mountain, so celebrated for gray squirrels, wild tur- 

 keys, rattlesnakes, and various kind of game, and being 

 fatigued with scaling precipices and straggling through 

 almost impervious thickets, was about returning, when 

 chance threw in my way a very eccentric, and at the same 

 time agreeable companion. He was a stout woodsman, 

 who had been employed like myself, in the pursuit of 

 game, but with a very different weapon. Like the hardy 

 pioneers of the West, he used the rifle only in his sports, 

 disdaining to employ the ordinary weapon in common use 

 with New-England Sportsmen. He had killed nothing 

 but gray squirrels, but of these he had destroyed a great 

 number. Each animal bore the mark of a single ball, and 

 many of them were pierced directly through the head. He 

 assured me that he rarely failed of despatching his victim, 

 though perched on the loftiest limb of the forest. This 

 feat is the more surprising, when we consider how closely 

 the animal adheres to the body of the tree, whenever 

 alarmed, and by this sagacious act protects itself from obser- 

 vation, and offers but a very uncertain mark to its pursuers. 



I subsequently saw this man at certain "turkey shoot- 

 ings," and was still more struck with the astonishing accu- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



racy of his aim. In fact, it was not unusual for the owners 

 of the poor birds, which were inhumanly " set up" on 

 such occasions, to bribe him to take no share in the sports. 

 If he did persist in claiming his privilege, the six-cents 

 premium paid for the chance, was but a poor recompense 

 to the owner for the loss of his bird. " Old Natty Bumpo," 

 for so he was called by his brother shooters, was in the 

 habit of posting away to take a part in great turkey-matches, 

 in remote villages, where he was unknown, from which 

 he always returned, with a large proportion of the plunder. I 

 was told that he at one time hired his wagon, rode twenty 

 miles, and returned the same day, having killed forty out 

 of fifty of the birds. His booty amply paid him for his 

 trouble and expense, in addition to the gratification of 

 gaining so complete a triumph over the "strangers." 

 He was in the practice of wandering about, alone, in the 

 extensive meadows in the valley of the Connecticut, and 

 wo betide the beast or bird that ventured within the range 

 of his rifle. He at one time, in the course of his rambles 

 in these plains, discovered an eagle sitting upon a large 

 and solitary oak, apparently regardless of his approach. He 

 fired at him from a great distance, fearing that he should be 

 unable to approach without giving alarm, and fortunately 

 wounded him. The eagle lost his balance, but still held, 

 however, his grasp upon the branch upon which he had 

 rested. Our rifleman fired again, cut off the twig which 

 he clung to, and secured his prisoner. 



It was of such hardy and skilful men that our armies of 

 the Revolution were composed; and to their accuracy of 

 eye, and firmness of nerve, we may attribute the repeated 

 successes of undisciplined men, over the practised veterans 

 of Europe. If General Hull, during the North-Western 

 Campaign of the last war, had been followed to the field by 

 a body of such men, bearing any fair proportion to the 

 army of Brock, he would have added new lustre to the 

 reputation he had gained under Washington, in nearly 

 every battle of the Revolution, and escaped those vile im- 

 putations upon his honour and courage, which his enemies, 

 and those by whom he had been wronged, endeavoured to 

 cast upon him. Posterity, however, will see this affair 

 through the medium of historical truth, and will render to 

 his memory a deserved though tardy tribute. M. 



INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN. 



No. I. 



The first important step towards becoming an expert 

 Sportsman, is a perfect knowledge of the gun. This is 

 the rudiment of the science, and is of more importance than 



most young men are aware, who are about to enter into 

 the enjoyments of the field. To obtain this knowledge, 

 much patience and experience are required; and certain 

 rules observed by the learner, from which he ought not to 

 depart. In the hands of the careless and inexperienced, 

 the gun often proves an instrument of death to a compa- 

 nion, and his future days become embittered by the care-, 

 lessness of a moment, which might have been avoided, had 

 that attention been paid to the subject which it certainly 

 demands. Wherefore, I hold it as an infallible rule, that 

 none should ever venture in search of game with a gun, 

 especially beside his companions, until familiarity with it at 

 home, has made him a master of his gun. I shall advance 

 a few rules on this head, founded on my own observation 

 and the experience of others, which perhaps may assist the 

 young beginner in the science. 



So much has been said about the "choice of guns," that 

 any thing advanced here on that point might be considered 

 superfluous; but when we reflect on the number of accidents 

 which have occurred through the medium of inferior guns, 

 and how much it is recommended that " any kind of gun'* 

 will answer to learn with, — that I cannot help joining other 

 writers, and exclaim against all inferior or low priced guns. 

 I most strenuously recommend the young Sportsman to 

 beware of common English, French, and Dutch guns. A 

 medium or high price English gun is the cheapest in the 

 end for a gentleman who intends using it during the succes- 

 sive seasons of shooting, and would recommend him to pay 

 a price not less than fifty dollars, as very few lower priced 

 than this can be depended on. The best, and most popular 

 description of guns, are the stub and twist double guns, of 

 ll-16ths of an inch calibre, and thirty inches in length, with 

 back action locks, and steel works; steel furniture without 

 scroll guards; spring-box triggers; a plain stock, checquered 

 only at the breech, and the grain of the wood running 

 parallel with the bend. Do not choose a gun for its beau- 

 tiful stock, as that description seldom proves serviceable, 

 but will break with very trifling usage. Let the stock be 

 rather straight, and long from the trigger to the butt, in 

 order to enable you to keep your head elevated. 



A gun of the above cast can be purchased now for sixty to 

 seventy-five dollars, — should you pay less than this for a 

 new gun, in a regalar gun store, you cannot depend on its 

 being a stub and twist. Very showy guns have been sell- 

 ing at prices, varying from thirty-five to fifty dollars, but 

 be assured they are only twisted iron; and have not steel 

 works in their locks, but case-hardened iron, which is 

 almost as brittle as glass, and the furniture is either of cast 

 iron, or of the most inferior quality. 



A gun of the former kind may be used constantly for 

 eight or ten years, or until the owner becomes an expert 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



shot, when, if his means will warrant, he can purchase a 

 higher price, or first rate London gun. 



I have two guns, one of which is of Birmingham manu- 

 facture, and the other from London; the former was in- 

 voiced at £18.10, and cost me ninety dollars, — the latter 

 had seen many years of service before it came into my 

 possession, and I was assured it originally cost forty gui- 

 neas. This gun, although upwards of twenty years old, is 

 substantial and perfect in its parts, and performs as well as 

 when it came into my possession, eight years since; and I 

 have no doubt that with care and constant use, it will last 

 for half a century to come; while the other gun has seen but 

 seven years' service altogether, and is deficient, more or less, 

 in all its parts. I do not mean by this to say, that a young 

 beginner should be so extravagant as to pay two hundred 

 dollars for a gun, but it is only to contrast the two kinds of 

 guns, and the superiority of the manufacture, and the dura- 

 tion of the one over the other, which augments its price, 

 and endeavour to reconcile a difficulty which arises in the 

 minds of many persons, who frequently ask the question, 

 " What makes one gun cost so much more than another" — 

 and, " What advantage is to be derived from such difference 

 in price." 



The young Sportsman having now provided himself 

 with a gun, he should learn to halhdle it expertly, and with 

 grace. I delight to see a man do this; — it proves him 

 worthy of the instrument, and that he has given proper 

 care and attention to the leading principles of shooting. 

 What is more unsightly than a Sportsman to use his gun 

 as though it was an uncouth stick of wood? — to see him 

 bring it to his shoulder so clumsily, as to catch it either in 

 his accoutrements, or the butt an inch or two under his 

 arm-pit, before he can bring it to its proper place. And 

 yet you will see many persons do this, (and some good shots 

 too,) but certainly if there is any thing which requires grace, 

 I think this noble science does. The manner in which a 

 Sportsman handles his gun, is in my view, an index to his 

 proficiency in the art; for I never yet saw a man use his 

 gun with grace, loho ivus an inferior shot. The beauty 

 of any thing is constituted by the symmetry or proportion 

 of one part with another, and these with the whole; and 

 perfection in any science or art, is only achieved, when not 

 only the general and leading principles are acquired, but 

 the minutiae also. 



To attain this, handle your gun very frequently, (but 

 always uncharged) — hold it carelessly in your hand, or on 

 your shoulder, and repeatedly throw it to your sight at 

 some distant object, until your familiarity with it is so 

 great, as to make you as perfectly drilled to it as the sol- 

 dier is to his musket. Just behold one of our militia-men 

 attempt the manual exercise, and then witness a regular, or 



a marine, and it needs no further argument to convince 

 you of the necessity of constant drilling, until you are per- 

 fect in handling your gun. It is a great acquisition to 

 sight your gun quick, or to become a snap-shot, as it ena- 

 bles the shooter to be more successful in thicket shooting, 

 where the game often springs at his feet, and passes swiftly 

 through the dense shrubbery, and only a trifling opening 

 offers. Success in this case can only attend, with any de- 

 gree of certainty, him who has habituated himself to 

 sighting and shooting quick. I do not mean that you should 

 hurry yourself; there is a vast difference between being 

 expert, and being hurried. An expert shot will so econo- 

 mise, (if I may thus speak,) his moments of shooting, as to 

 bring his gun to his shoulder, and sight the bird at the same 

 time; and knowing the precise moment when the impulse 

 to the trigger is to be given, he is quick, and yet deliberate. 

 But a hurried person is always taken by surprise, and dis- 

 concerted at the moment of shooting, and before he deter- 

 mines the correctness of his aim, fires, and either misses 

 his object, or tears it to atoms. 



After you have become expert in handling your gun, I 

 would advise, before you take the field in search of game, 

 to practise at other things. These may be objects, such as 

 stones, or blocks of wood, thrown in the air, or swiftly 

 by you, by a companion. But, in either case, never 

 put your gun to your shoulder until the article is fairly in 

 the air. A most excellent plan will be found in the fol- 

 lowing: — Tie a block of wood, (the size of a lark,) to the 

 end of a long string, and let this, if possible, be suspended 

 from the projecting limb of a large tree, or some tall ob- 

 ject; then take a side or an oblique situation of fifteen or 

 twenty yards from it, — let some friend draw it back to 

 the stretch of the cord, and let it swing, and while in mo- 

 tion, fire at it; this do repeatedly, and until you can 

 strike it almost successively, always minding to keep up 

 the swing of the gun in proportion to the motion of the 

 target. When you have become perfect in one position, 

 try another, and so vary the motion of the target in every 

 manner as may accord with the flight of a bird. One hour 

 a day, on several days spent in this waj-, will so accustom 

 you to the use of your gun, that its advantages will be 

 felt as soon as you take the field after game. There 

 are those, however, who condemn every thing of this kind, 

 as being unlike the flight of game, and.would rather recom- 

 mend you to practise on swallows, blackbirds, bats, and 

 pidgeons from the trap. If, however, my plan has nothing 

 else to recommend it, it has the merit of discouraging the 

 destruction of life, which- must necessarily follow the other 

 plan; and this destruction of innocent birds I do most 

 heartily deprecate, for, independent of the unnecessary 

 waste of life, it is a public injury, for those birds destroy 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



myriads of insects, which are injurious, and are only pre- 

 vented from being exceedingly annoying to our own spe- 

 cies, by the wise provision of our Creator, in placing 

 those very birds as their destroyers which are recom- 

 mended as subject of sport and cruelty. Beside, the flight 

 of these birds is as unlike the flight of game, as is the mo- 

 tion of the things which I recommend. The object in recom- 

 mending either, is to enable the shooter to sight correctly 

 and shoot quick, and this may be done as well with one as 

 the other. Nothing short of practice at the very game 

 itself, will make the shooter perfect in the science; there 

 are so many things to be learned in the field, (which I 

 shall take occasion to notice hereafter,) that all other prac- 

 tice can have no other tendency than to make the learner 

 familiar with his gun. 



The flight of the various game so difiers, that it is abso- 

 lutely necessary to practise on every kind, before a man 

 may successfully contend with each of those which consti- 

 tutes our variety. I have known those who could shoot 

 Rail, that could not kill Woodcock; and then, again, those 

 who were successful at Woodcock, not able to kill Part- 

 ridges; and a friend of mine, who was an excellent shot at 

 Partridges, I saw miss eight times successively at Snipe: 

 and most every Sportsman knows the difficulty of killing 

 a Pheasant. 



In holding your gun, I recommend you to gripe with 

 your left hand, about midway between the tail-piece and 

 guard, and instead of bringing your gun up in a direct line 

 to your shoulder, to throw it gently into its place, by 

 keeping it rather from you and across you, with the 

 muzzle elevated, and making a slight curve outward, 

 until it is on a level with your shoulder, when it may 

 be brought gently, but solidly in its place; you thereby 

 avoid bringing it into contact with your clothes, or accou- 

 trements, which are hanging over your shoulders. The 

 proper plan of sighting a gun, is to fix your eyes intensely 

 on the object to be shot at, and the gun brought up in a 

 line of aim with the object, without diverting your eye for 

 a moment, or squatting your cheek down to your gun; this 

 you will be the better able to accomplish, by having the 

 stock of your gun rather straight and long, as it will neces- 

 sarily keep your head more upright, by which means you 

 can more distinctly see the object you are going to shoot 

 at, beside avoid the intolerable boxing, which is consequent 

 to all who press their cheek forward against the breech of 

 the gun. A long stock, also, will press against the shoul- 

 der, and serve to steady your gun, as well as to break the 

 rebound, which short-stocked guns, are always subject to; 

 for it is evident, that if the stock is so short as to admit 

 the face to press forward to the breech, that the constant 

 rebounding of the gun will act against the cheek instead 



of the shoulder, and cause a head-ache, which at times is 

 almost insupportable, beside the danger of having the eye 

 injured by the broken particles of the percussion cap. 



Many persons, in griping their guns with the left hand, 

 do it immediately on the guard, and under the locks. I 

 never could see any advantage arising from this plan, but 

 always regarded it as an affectation on the part of those 

 who practised it, to imitate some few eccentric beings, or 

 to be so themselves; for I have more than once witnessed, 

 that some of those who strenuously recommended this plan 

 when at home, forget to exercise it when abroad. For my 

 part, I condemn it as more dangerous in the event of a 

 gun's bursting; beside, it does not give the shooter as 

 much control in the management of his gun as the common 

 plan. In the first place, the construction of a gun, and 

 its balance, point out, that midway between the tail- 

 piece and guard, is the only proper place for the left hand, 

 which gives the possessor a power to wield his gun with 

 more certainty and ease, especially in thickets; and in the 

 second place, it is more free from danger should the gun 

 burst. Most stub and twist guns, when they burst, do so at 

 the breech, and not more than four inches along the barrels. 

 I have witnessed, within a few years, four guns of this de- 

 scription bursting, and the owners escaped injury, except 

 one, who always caught his gun at the guard, — and the con- 

 sequence to him was the loss of his thumb, and part of the 

 hand. One of the others which burst, was held on the plan 

 I recommend, and the owner thereby escaped a most 

 dreadful accident, as his gun burst at the breech, tore 

 ofi" the lock, guard, and part of the stock, within an inch 

 of his right hand, and so completely were the parts severed, 

 that he held in his left hand the barrels, while in his right 

 was the butt of the stock, completely detached from the 

 former, and had he griped his gun on the guard, the inevi- 

 table consequence would have been the entire loss of his 

 hand, and perhaps his life. I. 



THE SPORTSMAN'S CHAMBER. 



This room, which is exclusively my own, 



And which to every other, I prefer, 



Is furnished for convenience, not for show; 



Plain, but yet clean — retired, yet o'erlooking 



Villages, and woods, and fields, and rivers; 



And giving to the eye a distant view 



Of one great town, whose constant bustle, and 



Ne'er ceasing sounds, disturb not meditation 



Where I write. The firm floor is cover'd 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



45 



With a cloth which vies with April's verdant 

 Meads, when the blythe robin has begun to 

 Carol in the woods. Near to the fire-place 

 Is a mat, on which my faithful Pointer 

 Takes repose when home returned, and weary 

 From the chase. There, by the closet, stands my 

 Double-barrel instrument of death, well 

 Protected in its leathern coat. Not far 

 From that, on hooks projecting from the 

 Whiten'd wall, game-bags and shot-belts are 

 Suspended. Hard by my wardrobe is; 

 And over it, in not the most methodical 

 Array, of books a small but choice collection. 

 These serve to while away the hours when 

 Sickness or foul weather keep me home. 

 Snug in a corner is my cot, friendly 

 Receiver of my jaded frame, when from 

 The fields I come laden with spoils. A desk, 

 A single table, two arm-chairs, (one for 

 A friend,) complete the scanty list of goods 

 And chattels that my room contains. And yet 

 For unpretending bachelor like me 

 These will suffice. As simple quite, the 

 Ornamental part. Over the mantel- 

 Piece a portrait of my mother hangs, sketch'd 

 By myself in boyhood, long ere the cares 

 Of life had rais'd one wrinkle on my brow; 

 Her full, dark eye is fixed on me in 

 Tenderness, and her scarcely open mouth 

 Is smiling, perhaps at the success of 

 This my juvenile aspiring. Around 

 The walls, promiscuously arranged, are 

 Some few sporting pictures, painted in 

 By-gone days, when shooting and the chase were 

 Follow'd by a race of men such as the 

 Fields and woods are not soon destined to 

 Behold again; a hardy, free, and 

 Jovial set of beings, who shot and 

 Hunted for the love they bore to healthful 

 Exercise and sylvan sports. The noble 

 Art of hunting for the pot, was then but 

 Little known; pecuniary thoughts and 

 Culinary calculations, never 

 Disturb'd their minds; their ammunition, game. 

 And purse, were equally their comrades, and 

 Their own. Then there was no anticipating 

 Of the seasons: Game in their days was 

 Unmolested left, till by the hand of 

 Time matured, and quite prepar'd to use the 

 Means that Nature had bestowed to escape 

 Its numerous foes. These men my plates 

 M 



Exhibit in various circumstances 

 Of the day, as finding, killing, resting, 

 And returning home; fatigued, but yet 

 Invigorated by the sport. The modern 

 Caricatures I despise: they prove 

 Degeneracy in both the artists 

 And admirers: a vitiated taste 

 Alone can love to see those manly sports 

 Thus ridiculed; and therefore I condemn 

 Them all. On brackets here and there about 

 The room, guarded from dust, and the rude touch 

 Of people over curious, by cases 

 Fac'd with glass, are some few specimens of 

 Birds, stuff'd by my friend J. D****»*'s hand, the Wood- 

 cock, 

 Quail, and Snipe, in form and attitude so 

 Well preserved, that even life itself is 

 Scarce more natural. 'Tis birds alone I 

 Hunt. The savage Panther and the surly 

 Bear, I leave to hunters more robust; nor 

 Now does even the timid Deer or 

 Wily Fox decoy me from my home. 

 Let the rough Rabbit-hunter go his rounds. 

 And poke about 'midst rocks and roots of trees, 

 With hound and ferret, to drive out the poor 

 And worried quadruped, that for awhile 

 Has taken shelter there; if pleasure he 

 Can find in catching with his hand a 

 Frighten'd coney when trying to escape 

 His tutor'd vermin, I envy not his 

 Taste, nor much admire the skill display'd in 

 Such plebeian sport. For me, I love to 

 Scale the hemlock-covered mountains, where the 

 Proud Pheasant spreads his fan-like tail, droops low 

 His wings, and full of vernal ardour, gives 

 Intimation loud to all his wives that 

 He (great Turk!) is ready to return their 

 Annual loves, drumming them to enjoyment. 

 There in the fall I find the full grown 

 Families around the base, and on the 

 Sides of hills abrupt, and joy to hear' them 

 Whirring through the woods. Or in the vales 

 Below I beat the stubble fields for Quails; 

 'Tis there our dogs show best, as ranging o'er 

 The extended plains, they eagerly inhale 

 Th' autumnal breeze; a sudden start, and 

 Added earnestness, demonstrate they have 

 Struck the scent; assur'd of which, they draw with 

 Steady, cautious step, up the full stream of 

 Tainted air, till having reached the spot 

 Beyond which it were dangerous to proceed, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



Firmly they stand, and point where lies the game. 

 In swampy bottoms, thickly covered o'er 

 With alders, or the almost impenetrable 

 Briar, I sometimes spring with spaniels, the 

 Least wary of our feather'd game, and most 

 Delicious to an epicure. And yet 

 But little satisfaction does it yield 

 To hunt for Woodcocks in solstitial heats. 

 Compared with that amusement when the 

 Falling leaf give signs of their departing 

 From our coast; then, birds full plumaged, and 

 Well-open'd woods, make this of all our shooting 

 Most delightful. Snipes, too, I love to shoot. 

 Not the rank beach birds, allur'd by stools to 

 Meet a ' leaden death,' but the sleek English 

 Snipe, whose zig-zag motion through the air 

 Puzzles the sight of inexperienced shots; 

 These, when abundant, need no dog to find 

 Them; and when scarce, a slow, staunch Pointer, suits 

 Them best. From sports like these, not too 

 Laborious, I return; refreshment 

 In my own snug chamber soon procure; then 

 From a cupboard, (not till now made known,) I 

 Find some comfort in a cordial glass; 

 When o'er our grog, and Pellon-brand cigars, 

 My friend and I discourse sweet music on 

 The past excursion, make fresh arrangements 

 For the coming morn, and at the hour of 

 Ten, yawning, shake hands, and bid good night. 

 Neio-York, March, 1832. D. J. 



From the American Turf Register. 

 WESTERN SHOTS. 



Our western marksmen of the present day do not con- 

 fine themselves to the use of the rifle alone, (like the pio- 

 neer " Hunters of Kentucky," who despised a " smooth 

 bore,") but handle the fowling piece with equal facility; 

 indeed some use it exclusively. In Cincinnati, and the 

 vicinity, we can boast of some first rate shots, who would 

 be "hard to beat" any where. 



A Shooting Club, recently formed here, will no doubt 

 bring out some fine shooting; an account of which,if accepta- 

 ble, I shall occasionally furnish for your valuable Magazine. 

 At present, I shall merely give a brief sketch of a few shots 

 previous to the formation of the Club. 



Two of our best marksmen went out one afternoon, 

 snipe shooting. Each killed 14 snipe, making 28; and 



the 29th was shot at the same instant by both, which they 

 counted as 14^ snipe a piece. On their way home, in 

 the evening, they called at a pigeon match, and obtaining 

 privilege to shoot, tried each other. 

 Distance 20 yards — 9 birds to each man. 



Mr. Corben killed - - 9 

 Mr. Aumack, - - - 9 

 At a match, some time afterwards: — Distance 20 yards 

 — 17 birds to each man. 



Corben killed - - - 17 



Aumack ... \q — missed 1 — the 17th. 



At this match very fair shooting was made by others of 

 the party, which I regret being unable to furnish at pre- 

 sent. 



At another pigeon match: — Distance 18 yards — 2 birds 

 put into the trap or box, to be let out together — 15 birds 

 to each man — both barrels to be used. 



Mr. Corben killed his 15 birds at 7 rounds, having shot 

 two at once, which crossed each other. 

 Mr. Wright killed 11 out of the 15. 

 Mr. Noble, 11 " " 



On other occasions, at 18 to 20 yards — 10 birds up — 

 10, 9, 8, and 7, has generally been the result. 



Although much improvement is expected from the 

 younger members of the Club, yet it is very questionable 

 if they will ever be able to excel their elder brethren. An 

 emulation, however, is excited among them, which I 

 hope will enable me to report to you hereafter some fine 

 shooting. 



To conclude, I shall just mention the game killed by a 

 member of the Club in one year, viz. 

 20 Woodcock. 

 102 Snipe. 

 38 Ducks. 

 66 Rabbits. 

 1226 Quails. 



1452 in all — 57 times out. 



Killed also an abundance of less valuable game, not 

 counted. 



Last year, 75 Woodcock — other game not yet reported. 



I am happy to report to you, that the two last winters 

 (counting the present as one, and presuming it to be nearly 

 over,) have not been so destructive to the Partridge in this 

 part of the country as at first apprehended. The western 

 sportsmen highly approve of the humane regulations 

 adopted by their eastern brethren for the preservation of 

 this valuable bird, and will no doubt adopt similar ones when 

 necessary. Mark. 



Cincinnati, Feb. 3, 1832. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



47 



Extracted from Silliman's Journal. 



PERCUSSION POWDER. 



Gunpowder made of chlorate of potash, sulphur, and 

 charcoal, is much stronger than that made of saltpetre. 

 Welter filled small bombs with this powder, buried them 

 in the ground, and then caused them to explode. They were 

 constantly broken into pieces of the size of a horse-ches- 

 nut, while those exploded with common gunpowder, under 

 circumstances precisely similar, were broken into much 

 larger pieces. As a material for priming, to be fired by 

 percussion or otherwise, this powder has serious inconve- 

 niences. It soils and corrodes the lock very rapidly, a de- 

 fect which cannot be easily remedied, and the use of it is 

 very much abandoned. 



A preference is therefore given to a powder composed of 

 ten parts of fulminating mercury, and six of common 

 priming powder. The fulminate is ground upon a marble 

 slab with a wooden muller, after having been moist- 

 ened with thirty per cent, of water; six parts of common 

 powder are then added, and the grinding continued. A 

 firm paste is thus attained, which being properly dried, is 

 divided into grains, one of which is sufficient for a prim- 

 ing.— .^;ui. de Chimie, Sept. 1829. 



COMMON SALT A REMEDY FOR ANIMAL 

 POISON. 



The Rev. J. G. Fischer, formerly a missionary in 

 South America, says he " actually and effectually cured all 

 kinds of very painful and dangerous serpents' bites, after 

 they had been inflicted for many hours," by the applica- 

 tion of common salt, moistened with water, and bound 

 upon the wound, "without any bad effect ever occurring 

 afterwards." 



" I, for my part," says he, " never had an opportunity 

 to meet with a mad dog, or any person who was bitten 

 with a mad dog. I cannot, therefore, speak from expe- 

 rience, as to hydrophobia, but that I have cured serpents' 

 bites always, without fail, I can declare in truth." He 

 then cites a case from a newspaper, in which a person was 

 bitten by a dog, which in a few hours died raving mad. 

 Salt was immediately rubbed for some time into the 

 wound, and the person never experienced any inconveni- 

 ence from the bite. 



Mr. Fischer was induced to try the above remedy, from 

 a statement made by the late Bishop Loskiell in his history 

 of the Missions of the Moravian Church in North America, 

 purporting that certain tribes of Indians, had not the least 

 fear of the bite of serpents, relying upon the application of 



salt as so certain a remedy, that some of them would suffer 

 the bite for the sake of a glass of rum. — Jour, of Roy. 

 Inst. 



TO RESTORE THE ELASTICITY OF A DAMAGED 

 FEATHER. 



A FEATHER, when damaged by crumpling, may be 

 perfectly restored by the simple expedient of immersing it 

 in hot water. The feather will thus completely recover 

 its former elasticity, and look as well as it ever did. This 

 fact was accidentally discovered by an amateur ornitholo- 

 gist of Manchester. Receiving, on one occasion, a case of 

 South American birds, he found that the rarest specimen of 

 it was spoilt, from having its tail rumpled in the packing. 

 Whilst lamenting over this mishap, he let the bird fall 

 from his hands into his coffee-cup; he now deemed it 

 completely lost, but, to his agreeable surprise, he found, 

 that after he had laid it by the fire to dry, the plumage of 

 the tail became straight and unruffled, and a valuable spe- 

 cimen was added to his collection. — lb. 



DESTRUCTION OF LIVE STOCK BY WOLVES 

 IN RUSSIA. 



In the government of Livonia alone, the following ani- 

 mals were destroyed by Wolves in 1823. The account is 

 an official one. 



Horses, - - - 1,841 Goats, - - - - 2,545 

 Fowls, - - - 1,243 Kids, - - - - 183 

 Horned cattle, - 1,807 Swine, - - - - 4,190 

 Calves, - - - 733 Sucking pigs, - 312 

 Sheep, - - - 15,182 Dogs, - - - - 703 

 Lambs, - - - 726 Geese, - - - - 673 

 {Revue Encyc. Sept. 1830. 



From the London Sporting' Magazine. 



ANECDOTE OF A DOG. 



A FAITHFUL Dog followed the hearse of its master to 

 a burial-ground two miles from London. Nothing could 

 prevail on it to remain in the house of the deceased when 

 the body was removed from it. A number of persons as- 

 sisted at the funeral, some of whom (the family) the ani- 

 mal was accustomed to. With none of them would it re- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



turn, but laid itself down in a mournful posture, and 

 howled over the grave of the departed. In vain was per- 

 suasion used to get it away. At night the watchman at- 

 tempted to dislodge it by force: it resisted, ran away from 

 the man, and again returned to keep watch over him who 

 liad fed and sheltered it during his life. On the following 

 morning the sexton used his endeavours to take away the 

 Dog; but in vain. He returned with food, thinking that the 

 ])00r brute would follow him from hunger: this failed, and 

 it refused sustenance. On the second day, a number of per- 

 .sons went to the grave with meat and drink to the trusty 

 mourner: these it accepted, seemed grateful, but took up its 

 first post, and stretched itself over the cold bed of its de- 

 parted master. Day followed day, and the neighbours re- 

 paired from curiosity to the spot, and from humanity fed 

 the Dog. I was told of this circumstance, and went to see 

 this practical lesson of attachment and gratitude given by an 

 irrational being to us intellectual lords of the creation. It 

 was the eighth day when I saw the fact. On the next day, 

 the animal was forcibly taken from the grave, and brought 

 home by a kind neighbour, who treated it with all possible 

 liumanity. Nevertheless, the inflexible Dog ran away, and 

 returned to its first position. It was then taken some miles 

 from town, and closely confined for a few days, when it 

 died of grief, probably broken-hearted — for such things 

 are. What an example to cold, fickle, and ungrateful man! 

 The survivors of the nearest relations and best of friends, 

 wipe ofi" hastily and soon after their death 



" The tear forgot as soon as shed:" 



ihey reject not food, nor refuse comfort — they keep not 

 their vigil near the narrow bed of those who have nursed 

 and served them : such privations are reserved for the ani- 

 jnal which boasts not the light of reason. 



SPORTING IN INDIA. 



In youth the pleasures of hope form our greatest enjoy- 

 ments; but, in the autumn and wintry season of our life, 

 we must draw upon the pleasures of memory for our chief 

 resource. Such is my case: and I derive much amusement 

 from looking over my old portfolio, ransacking my writ- 

 ing desk, and from turning over the annals of other days, 

 which my paper-drawer and library contain, and it would 

 be my proudest endeavour thereby to convey entertainment 

 to my readers. In this feeling, and with this view, I have 

 drawn from a blotting-book a parcel of letters from a very 



good fellow, a Scotchman, written to me some years back 

 from India, on the subject of Sporting there, and I shall 

 make an extract from one of them, which I trust will not 

 be wholly devoid of interest: — 



" Shortly after my arrival at Calcutta, I was invited 



to a day's sporting by Major , which I accepted 



gladly, having great curiosity to witness Oriental hunting, 

 which, I was led to think, must be, like other pastimes 

 there, in Eastern splendour. Nor was I disappointed — 

 the scene and our success surpassed my most sanguiyiary 

 expectations. We started before day-break, in a style 

 more resembling the march of a coi-ps d'cirmee, or a tri- 

 umphal procession in honour of the Goddess of the Chase, 

 than the preparation for a day's hunting. No Scotch 

 Laird, Yorkshire Squire, nor Melton Mowbray Sportsman, 

 can conceive any thing equal to it: our strength and num- 

 bers, our arms and appointments, our slaves and attendants, 

 were astounding to behold. A Tiger-hunt was the object 

 in view, and a grand and memorable day we had. The 

 Majoi-, a fine portly man, was mounted on an elephant, 

 from the elevation of which, placed in a castle, he scoured 

 the circumjacent country with eagle eye, preceded by 

 sharp-shooters, tirailleurs, scouts, spies, and savages, fol- 

 lowed and surrounded by divers brother sportsmen, com- 

 rades, and domestics. 



"We were not long before we found a Tiger, which 

 afforded considerable sport, and was killed by a brother 

 officer's rifle. From the dingle in which we found the 

 last ferocious animal, we proceeded on with nobler game 

 in view — the monarch of all beasts of prey ; and, after some 

 excursive riding, a magnificent Lion made its appearance. 

 The sight was most grand ! but I confess that at this mo- 

 ment, no small degree of fear mingled with my ambition 

 to have to record a Lion-hunt amongst the adventures of 

 my life. The attack seemed really more like actual war 

 than any thing else, so great and grand was the enemy to 

 which we were opposed. The bold Major and a dashing 

 young Cavalry Subaltern, discharged their rifles simultane- 

 ously at the Lion, and each of them wounded him : infuriated 

 with pain, the fierce animal attacked the elephant, whilst 

 the Major seized another rifle and took deliberate aim at 

 him; but being anxious that this shot might tell, he leaned 

 so far forward, that he overbalanced himself, and fell from 

 his castle into the Lion's arms, (or rather paws.) Here 

 was an awful moment! but wonderful to tell, the Major 

 got off with a broken arm only, a rush having been made 

 towards the Lion, whereby he was despatched, covered 

 with wounds, and torrents of blood streaming around. 

 Nothing could be so brave, so desperate, nor so marvel- 

 lous!'' — Ibid. 







ri a 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



49 



fox-hunting. 

 bhea king c ver . 



[Tide Plate V. Vol. 2.] 



"Soon as Aurora drives away the night, 



And edges eastern clouds with rosy light, 



The healthy huntsman, with the cheerful horn, 



Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn, 



The jocund thunder wakes th' enlivened hounds, 



They rouse from sleep, and answer sounds for sounds. 



Wide through the furzy field their route they take— 



Their bleeding bosoms force the thorny brake — 



The flying game their smoking nostrils trace. 



No bounding hedge obstructs their eager pace ; 



The distant mountains echo from afar. 



And hanging woods resound the flying war — 



The tuneful noise, the sprightly courser hears, 



Paws the green turf and pricks his trembling ears, 



The slacken'd rein now gives him all his speed, 



Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed I 



Hills, dales, and forests, far behind remain, 



While the warm scent draws on the deep-mouthed train." 



Among the variety of sports common to this country, 

 none are so manly and invigorating as Fox-hunting. This 

 sport, so replete with enjoyment, is however confined 

 to but few districts in the United States, and these are 

 chiefly in the Southern states. From Maryland, south, 

 this has always been the favourite amusement of the 

 sportsmen, by whom it is followed with a keenness and 

 perseverance, which show at once its fascinating tendency. 

 There are, however, Fox-hunters in almost every state; 

 but their number is so small, and excursions comparatively 

 so few, to those of the Southern states, that it may properly 

 be called a Southern sport; and it is a matter of surprise, 

 that in the Northern states, (in most of which plenty of 

 foxes may always be found,) so little attention is paid to a 

 sport, with which none others can bear a comparison, 

 whether it is for the rich variety it affords, the healthful 

 exercise consequent to it, or the superior horsemanship 

 required to follow it successfully. 



Of the enjoyments of the field, the Chase has always 

 been superlatively regarded, not only from its all-absorb- 

 ing interests, but for the benefits to the hunter and commu- 

 nity at large. 



The beauties and merits of the Chase, consist of the soul- 

 enlivening music of the hounds, the hilarity which always 

 prevails in the company, the intrepidity of mind, and 

 daring boldness, which fear no obstacles, and an acquire- 

 ment of so good a knowledge of horsemanship, as to sur- 

 mount great difficulties, without injury to the horse or 

 rider. The benefits are, the necessity of early rising, — 

 N 



the continual exercise of the body, while the mind is enli- 

 vened by passing scenes, and an emulation to excel, when 

 the prospect of victory is pressing the expectants in joyful 

 anticipation to the desired goal. It is neither cruel to the 

 horse, which derives as much pleasure nearly as his rider, 

 nor does it pursue to death a useful or innocent animal, 

 but a thief and a destroyer. 



To the fastidious mind, most field amusements are objec- 

 tionable, in consequence (as it is said) of their tendency to cru- 

 elty. In Fox-hunting, however, no such objection should 

 present itself. Most enjoyments which this life affords, are 

 allowable to a certain extent; every thing may be over- 

 done; and that which at one time, by moderate use, is a 

 source of delight, may, at another time, by dissipation, be 

 an intolerable burden; but any enjoyment which, while it 

 increases the happiness and welfare of an individual, is 

 also of service to a communit}', becomes doubly imposing, 

 and allowable. In this sense, then, should Fox-hunting 

 be regarded; for in the first place it can only be properly 

 done on horseback, which gives the rider a knowledge of 

 the horse and horsemanship, and every man who is profi- 

 cient in these things, is a useful member of society, either 

 in agriculture or war; and again, the sportsman becomes 

 healthful and endured to hardship, while the mind, hav- 

 ing been enlivened and made buoyant by rural enjoyments, 

 fits the possessor more properly to fulfil the moral and 

 social duties of life. 



The interests of the Chase can only be properly appre- 

 ciated by those who have mingled in its pleasures. No 

 tongue nor pen can do justice to an interesting chase; 

 although volumes in prose and poetry have been written 

 by able hands and practical sportsmen, and whose descrip- 

 tions have been admired by the world, but which fall far 

 short of the reality of these soul-absorbing pleasures. 



As we shall in the progress of this work, have occasion 

 to record some very celebrated Fox-hunts, it may suffice 

 at present, to give a few rules on Fox-hunting, selected 

 from very high authority, from which the sportsman may 

 glean some useful hints: — 



This author remarks, that " There are certain rules that 

 ought to be observed by a huntsman: he should always 

 listen to his hounds whilst they are running in cover; he 

 should be particularly attentive to the head hounds, and he 

 should be constantly on his guard against a skirter; for, if 

 there are two scents, he must be wrong. Generally speak- 

 ing, the best scent is least likely to be that of the hunted 

 fox, and as a fox seldom suffers hounds to run up to him, 

 as long as he is able to prevent it, so, nine times out of ten, 

 when foxes are hallooed early in the day, they are all fresh 

 foxes. The hounds most likely to be right are the hard- 

 running, line-hunting hounds; or such as the huntsman 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



knows had the lead before there arose any doubt of 

 changing. 



" With regard to the Fox, if he breaks over an open 

 country, it is no sign that he is hard run; for they seldom, 

 at any time, will do that, unless they are a great way 

 before the hounds. Also, if he runs up the wind, — foxes 

 seldom do that when the)' have been long hunted and 

 grow weak; and when they run their foil, that also may 

 direct the huntsman. All this requires a good ear and 

 nice observation; and, indeed, in these consist the chief 

 excellence of a huntsman. 



"The huntsman at a check, had better let his hounds 

 alone, or content himself with holding them forward, 

 without taking them off their noses. Hounds that are not 

 used to be cast, will of themselves acquire a better cast 

 than it is in the power of any huntsman to give them; will 

 spread more and try better for the scent; and, if they are 

 in health and spirits, they will want no encouragement. 



'' If they are at fault, and have made their own cast, which 

 the huntsman should always encourage them to do, it is 

 then his business to assist them further; but, except in some 

 particular instances, they should never be cast as long as 

 they are inclined to hunt. The first cast of a huntsman 

 should be a regular one: if that does not succeed, he 

 should be at liberty to follow his own opinion, and proceed 

 as observation and genius may direct. When a knowing 

 cast is made, there ought to be some mark of good sense or 

 meaning in it — whether down the wind, or towards some 

 likely cover or strong earth; however, as it is at best un- 

 certain, and as the huntsman and the fox may be of dif- 

 ferent opinions, a regular cast should always be made 

 before a knowing one is attempted, which, as a last re- 

 source, should not be called forth till it is wanted. The 

 letting hounds alone is but a negative goodness in a hunts- 

 man; whereas it is true that this last gives him an opportu- 

 nity of displaying genius, if he happen to possess so rare 

 and valuable a qualification. There is one fault, however, 

 which a knowing huntsman is apt to commit — he will find 

 a fresh fox, and then claim the merit of having recovered 

 the hunted one. 



" It is always dangerous to throw hounds into a cover 

 to retrieve a lost scent; and, unless they hit him in, is not 

 to be depended on. Driven to the last extremity, should 

 a knowing cast not succeed, the huntsman is no way blame- 

 able. 



" When hounds are at fault, gentlemen are apt to con- 

 tribute to their remaining so. They should always stop 

 their horses some distance behind the hounds; and, if it is 

 possible to be silent, this is the time to be so: they should 

 be careful not to ride before the hounds or over the scent; 

 nor should they ever meet a hound in the face unless with 



a design to stop him. Should a sportsman, at any time, 

 happen to get before the hounds, he should turn his horse's 

 head the way they are going; get out of their way, and let 

 them pass. 



" When the weather is dry, foxes will run the roads, 

 particularly in heathj^ countries. If gentlemen, at such 

 a time, ride close upon the hounds, they may drive them 

 miles without any scent. High-mettled fox-hounds are 

 seldom inclined to stop whilst horses are close at the heels 

 of them. 



" The first moment that hounds are at fault is a critical 

 one for the sport: sportsmen should then be very atten- 

 tive. Those who look forward perhaps may see the Fox ; 

 or, the running of sheep, or the pursuit of crows, may give 

 them some tidings of him. Those who listen may some- 

 times take a hint which way he is gone, from the chat- 

 tering of a jay, or perhaps be at a certainty from a dis- 

 tant halloo; nothing that gives any intelligence at such a 

 time as this should be neglected. Gentlemen are too apt 

 to ride altogether; were they to spread more, they might 

 sometimes be of service; particularly such, as from a 

 knowledge of the sport, keep down the wind; it would 

 then be difficult for either hounds or fox to escape their 

 observation. 



" The idea that a fox never stops is a very necessary 

 one for a fox-hunter, that he may be active, and lose no 

 time; j-et tired foxes will stop if you can hold them on; 

 and they have been known to stop even in wheel ruts on 

 the open down, and leap up in the midst of the hounds. 

 A tired fox ought not to be given up; for he is killed 

 sometimes very unexpectedly. If hounds have ever 

 pressed him, he is worth your trouble; perseverance may- 

 recover him, and, if recovered, he most probably will be 

 killed; nor should you despair while any scent remains. 

 The business of a huntsman is only difficult when the scent 

 dies quite away; and it is then he may show /^/* judgment, 

 when the hounds are no longer able to show their's. The 

 recovering a lost scent, and getting near to a fox by a long 

 cast, requires genius, for which huntsmen in general are not 

 remarkable. When hounds are no longer capable of feeling 

 the scent, it all rests with the huntsman; either the game is 

 entirely given up, or is only to be recovered by him. 



"If hounds come to a check on the high road, by the 

 fox being headed back, if in that particular case, j'ou 

 suffer them to try back, it gives them the best chance of hit- 

 ting off the scent again, as they may try both sides at once. 



"When hounds are running in cover you cannot be too 

 quiet. If the fox be running short, and the hounds are 

 killing him, not a word should then be said: it is a difficult 

 time for hounds to hunt him, as he is continually turning, 

 and will sometimes lie down and let them pass him. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



" In following hounds, it may be useful to know, that, 

 when in cover, they run up the wind, you cannot in rea- 

 son be too far behind them, as long as you have a perfect 

 hearing of them, andean command them; and, on the con- 

 trary, when they are running down the wind, you cannot 

 keep too close to them. 



" When covers are much disturbed, foxes will sometimes 

 break away as soon as they hear a hound. Where the 

 country round is very open, the fox least likely to break 

 is the one which you are hunting; he will be very unwill- 

 ing to quit the cover, if it be a large one, unless he can 

 get a great distance before the hounds. If sportsmen are 

 desirous of a run over such a country, the likeliest means 

 will be to post a quiet and skilful person to halloo one off, 

 and lay on to him. The further he is before the hounds, 

 tlie less likely he will be to return. The best method, 

 however, of hunting a cover like this, which is full of foxes, 

 is to stick constantly to it, not suffering the hounds to 

 break so long as one fox remains: — if this be done two or 

 three hunting days in succession, foxes will then fly, and 

 good runs may be obtained. 



"Frequently changing the country is prejudicial to 

 hounds: should they change from a good scenting country 

 to a bad one, they will be some time before they kill a fox, 

 unless they have better luck than ordinary; whereas, 

 hounds have always a great advantage in a country which 

 they are used to. They not only know better where to 

 find their game, but they will pursue it with more energy 

 when they have found it. 



"Huntsmen of penetration will observe where foxes 

 like best to lie. Where there is a great tract of cover to 

 draw, such observations are of great utility, and will save 

 much time. Generally, foxes are partial to such as lie 

 high, and are dry and thick at bottom; such also as lie out 

 of the wind; and such as are on the sunny side of hills. 

 The same cover where one fox has been found, if it has 

 remained quiet any time, will most likely produce ano- 

 ther. 



" The season when foxes are most wild and strong is 

 about Christmas; a huntsman then must lose no time in 

 drawing; he should draw up the wind, unless the cover be 

 very large, in which case, it may be better, perhaps, to 

 cross it, giving the hounds a side wind, lest he should be 

 obliged to turn down the wind at last: — in either case, he 

 should draw as quietly as he can. 



"The best drawing hounds are shy of searching a cover 

 when it is wet; and on such occasions the huntsman should 

 ride into the likeliest part of it; and as there will most 

 likely be no drag, the closer he draws the better; hunts- 

 men, by drawing in too great a hurry, frequently leave 

 foxes behind them. Some huntsmen draw too quick. 



some too slow. The time of the day, the behaviour of 

 the hounds, and the covers they are drawing, will direct 

 an intelligent huntsman in the pace which he ought to go. 



"When a fox slinks from his kennel, gets a great way 

 before the hounds, and you are obliged to hunt after him 

 with a bad scent — if you are in a country where foxes are 

 in plenty, and you know where to find another, it will 

 be advisable to call off, and try for a second. Unless a 

 fox can be well pressed in the early part of the run, the 

 hounds will not easily reach him; on the contrary, if he is 

 at such a distance before them, as will enable him to regu- 

 late his pace, he will be very likely to tire out both horses 

 and hounds — hence one very essential reason for speed in 

 the fox-hound. When the fox is a great way a-head, he 

 will listen to the hounds, and act accordingly — if the 

 hounds are not able to blow him, the chase is sure to be 

 very long, and will most likely end with the loss of the fox. 



"During the time that hounds are drawing for a fox, the 

 sportsmen should place themselves in such a manner that 

 he cannot go off unseen. Foxes will sometimes lie in 

 sheep's scrapes on the side of hills, and in small bushes, 

 and even in stubbles, where huntsmen seldom think of 

 looking for them; yet, when they hear a hound, they 

 generally shift their quarters, and make for close cover. 



" When a huntsman has a perfect knowledge of his coun- 

 try, he possesses an eminent advantage — he can trot away 

 and make a knowing cast, from having observed that nine 

 foxes out of ten, with the wind in the same quarter, have 

 constantly made for the same point or cover. 



" When a fox runs into a village, great caution is neces- 

 sary: if he is halloo'd there, the huntsman should get for- 

 ward as fast as he can. Foxes, when tired, will lie down 

 any where, and are thus often lost. A wide cast is not the 

 best to recover a tired fox with tired hounds — they should 

 hunt him out inch by inch, though they are ever so 

 long about it, and for the reason just given, that he will 

 lie down any where. 



" The true spirit of Fox-hunting is not to walk down a 

 fox, or starve him to death, but to keep close at him, and 

 kill him as soon as 3'ou can. A fox-hound may hunt too 

 much; if tender nosed, and not over-hurried, he will al- 

 ways hunt enough; whilst the lightest bred hounds may 

 be made to tye on the scent by improper encouragement. 

 Slackness in the men occasions slackness in the hounds; 

 and any person may perceive by the manner in which 

 the hounds hunt, what kind of men they have been accus- 

 tomed to. 



" The many chances in favour of the fox in Fox-hunting, 

 such as the frequent changing, the heading of the fox, his 

 being coursed by sheep-dogs, long faults, cold hunting, and 

 the dying away of the scent, make it necessary to keep 




52 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



always as near the fox as possible:— this should be the first 

 and invariable principle of Fox-hunting. 



" Nothing is more essential in Fox-hunting, than the 

 huntsman knowing the country he is to hunt. Foxes are 

 not capricious creatures, but know very well what they are 

 about: are quick in determining, and resolute in perseve- 

 rance. They generally have a point to go to; and, though 

 headed and turned directly from it, seldom fail to make it 

 good at the last; this, therefore, is a great help to a hunts- 

 man of discernment. 



" With respect to digging of foxes that have been run to 

 earth, the hole is generally followed, except where the 

 earth is large, and the terriers have fixed him in an angle 

 of it — the more expeditious method then is to sink a pit 

 as near to him as possible. By listening above ground, 

 that is, by placing your ear close to the ground, a tolera- 

 bly correct opinion may be formed of the situation of the 

 fox, from the noise of the terriers. A terrier should al- 

 ways be kept at the fox, otherwise he may move, and in 

 loose ground may dig himself further in. In digging, room 

 enough should be kept, and care should be taken not to 

 throw the earth where there may afterwards be occasion 

 to remove it. In following the hole, the surest way not to 

 lose it, is to keep below it. All the holes on the surface 

 should be stopped, lest the fox should bolt unseen. 



" But, before the operation of digging is commenced, the 

 huntsman should try all round, and be perfectly satisfied 

 that the fox has not gone on: 'for want of this precau- 

 tion, (says Beckford,) I dug three hours to a terrier that 

 lay all the time at a rabbit.' 



" A fox will sometimes go over an earth, and will not go 

 into it: he will sometimes go in and will not remain — he 

 may find it too hot, or not like the company he meets 

 with there — a fox has most likely good reasons for all he 

 does, though we are not acquainted with them. 



"Huntsmen, when they get near a fox, will some- 

 times put a hound in to draw him. This is, however, a 

 cruel operation, and seldom answers any other purpose 

 than to procure the dog a severe biting, the fox's head 

 generally being towards him; besides, a few minutes dig- 

 ging will make it unnecessary. If you let the fox first 

 seize the handle of your whip, the hound will more rea- 

 dily draw him. 



" If foxes are bred in an earth which is deemed unsafe, 

 they had better be stunk out; that or any disturbance at the 

 mouth of the hole, will make the old one carry them off to 

 another place. 



" Foxes, when they are much disturbed in open coun- 

 ti-ies, will lie at earth. If any difficulty occurs in finding, 

 stinking the earths will sometimes produce them again. 

 " Stinking earths may be practised in the following 



manner: — Three pounds of sulphur and one pound of 

 assafoetida, should be boiled up together; matches should 

 then be made of brown paper and lighted in the holes, 

 which are afterwards stopped very close. 



" In regard to bag foxes, hounds should be as little used 

 to them as possible: — the scent of them is stronger than 

 that of other foxes; and is therefore apt to make hounds 

 idle; besides, in the manner in which they are frequently 

 turned out, it makes hounds very wild. They seldom 

 fail to know what is going forward before the fox is turned 

 out; and if often used to bag foxes, will become riotous 

 enough to run any thing. A fox that has been confined 

 long in a small place, and carried out afterwards some 

 miles in a sack, his own ordure hanging about him, must 

 needs stink extravagantly; to which may be added, he is 

 most probably weakened for want of his natural food and 

 usual exercise; his spirit broken by despair, and his limbs 

 stiffened by confinement; he then is hurried out in open 

 ground, without any point to go to; he runs down the 

 wind, it is true; but he is so much at a loss all the 

 while, that he loses a good deal of time in not knowing 

 what to do; while the hounds, who have little occasion to 

 hunt, pursue as closely as if they were tied to him. If, 

 however, it be necessary to turn out a bag fox, he should 

 be turned into a small cover, and the hounds should be 

 laid on as quietly as possible — in order that they may sup- 

 pose they found him ; and as bag foxes always run down 

 the wind, those who turn them out, may therefore choose 

 what country they shall run. 



" ' To those who may think the danger that attends hunt- 

 ing, (says Beckford,) a great objection to the pursuit of it, 

 I must beg leave to observe, that the accidents which are 

 occasioned by it are very few. I will venture to say that 

 more bad accidents happen to shooters in one year than to 

 those who follow hounds in seven. You will remind me, 



perhaps, of the death of F h and thejfall of D 1; but 



do accidents never happen on the road? The most famous 

 huntsman, and the boldest rider of his time, after having 

 hunted a pack of hounds for several years unhurt, lost his 

 life at last by a fall from his horse, as he was returning 

 home. A surgeon of my acquaintance has assured me, 

 that in thirty years' practice, in a sporting country, he 

 had not once an opportunity of setting a bone for a sports- 

 man, though ten packs of hounds were kept in the neigh- 

 bourhood. This gentleman surely must have been much 

 out of luck, or hunting cannot be so dangerous as it 

 is thought. Besides, they are all timid animals which we 

 pursue, nor is there any danger in attacking them: they 

 are not like the furious beast of the Gevaudin, which, as 

 the French author informs us, twenty thousand French 

 Chasseurs went out in vain to kill!' " 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



NOTES OF A NATURALIST. 



Br Jacob Green, M. D. 



[Concluded from page 10.] 



June 18th. Locusts begin to die; the male first. Ox- 

 alis stricta, and Ascetocella, flower. 



Cockle, (agrostemma,) blossoms. 



Dung-beetle rolls his balls, (scarabasus carnifex. ) This 

 beetle, it is thought, will produce an oil and a colouring 

 dye. The Oil-beetle, (meloe procarabseus,) has been 

 found to produce a medicinal oil. They are to be collected 

 in the spring. Only females are used for the above pur- 

 pose. 



Cherries are ripe. 



Lampyris, or fire-fly, first seen. The light of this insect 

 increases in an atmosphere of oxygen gas. If it gets wet 

 in the gas it soon expires. Perhaps phosphoric acid is thus 

 produced, and the acid then kills the insect. 



I observed a battle between the old blue birds and a 

 domestic cat. The birds darted violently at the cat, mak- 

 ing a snapping noise with their bills, which eventually 

 drove her away. The young birds have neither the blue 

 feathers on the back, nor the brown ones on the breast, as 

 their parents. Another pair of Blue Birds have made their 

 nest between the weather-boards and the plastering of the 

 kitchen: their entrance to it is through a knot-hole, and in a 

 situation very favourable for my observations. The follow- 

 ing was a curious manreuvre to keep the nest clean while the 

 young were growing. When they brought food to the young, 

 they always carried a^vay with them, when they flew off in 

 search of more, the mutings of their ofi"spring; which were 

 often projected directly into their bills, for that purpose. 

 Since writing the above, I find that Montague states the 

 same fact respecting the English Nightingale, and adds — 

 " The sagacity of this, as also the disposal of the egg-shells, 

 is a remarkable instinctive power, implanted in these little 

 creatures for the security of their young; to assist which, 

 Nature has given a skin or covering, in which the mutings 

 are enveloped." (See Ornithological Dictionary, p. 31.) 



19<A. A large brown Caterpillar, about two inches long, 

 with seven orange-coloured spots on its back, made its 

 appearance in the willow tree. The sides and upper part 

 of this insect, are sprinkled with small whitish spots, and 

 covered with hairs and spines. On placing some of them 

 in a box, for the purpose of examining their transforma- 

 tions, the following facts were the result. Twenty-four 

 hours after, they became remarkably active, running 

 about, and eating the leaves of the willow. This conti- 

 nued some time; when they fastened themselves by the 

 extremity, (I suppose the tail,) to the top of the box, the 

 



head hanging downwards, and curved a little towards the 

 body. In this situation, they remained about eight or ten 

 hours; a glutinous kind of fluid exuding from every part 

 except the head, which presently dropped off. The whole 

 insect then assumes a different form and appearance. The 

 spines on the back vanish, except three near the head; 

 the body is much smaller, and attenuated; the colour, which 

 at the falling of the head was a light ash, gradually grows 

 darker and darker. 



%2d. A large Yellow Butterfly, (papilio turnus,) and 

 an ash-coloured Sphinx, striped with black, made their ap- 

 pearance. 



23^. Wild Buckwheat, (polygonum fagopyrum,) blos- 

 soms. Windsor, or Horse Beans, ripe. Yellow and blue 

 Ceramhyx, seen on the barberry vine. 



A day or two after the young blue birds had left the 

 nest, to which they never returned ; the old pair began to 

 clean it out, and rebuild. They proceeded precisely in the 

 same manner as at first, 



2SM. Common Elder blossoms. Micheaux remarks there 

 is no difference between this and the S. nigra of Europe, 

 except in size, the one being a tree and the other only a 

 shrub ! 



I witnessed a contest between the Cow Bunting (Embe- 

 riza Pecoris,) and the Robin, in which the first was the con- 

 queror. Till now, I supposed the Cow Bunting chose re- 

 tired places for rearing its young. The Robin had a nest 

 on the neighbouring tree. Perhaps the Bunting was about 

 depositing its eggs in the nest of the Robin, which may 

 have occasioned the conflict. 



Horehound, (marrubium.) The flowers of this plant are 

 just falling off, and it is now cut and dried for domestic 

 purposes. 



Toad Flax, sometimes called Butter and Eggs, (linaria 

 vulgaris,) flowers. Though this is a very common plant 

 along the road-sides, and in waste fields, it probably is not 

 a native. I have some of them transplanted into the gar- 

 den, and its long spikes crowded with bright flowers, adds 

 much to the beauty of the borders. 



Raspberries ripe. There is a kind of apterous insect, 

 with a coloured head and six feet, which infests this plant 

 at this season. 



Large Pincher, a variety of lucanus capriolus, appears. 



Common Sage, (salvia officinalis,) begins to flower: it 

 is now dried for culinary use. 



Sea Kale, (crambe maritima,) in seed. The flowers of 

 this plant were eaten long before the young sprouts, which 

 are now esteemed so highly. Level mentions this in his 

 Jldversaria, page 92. This vegetable was introduced into 

 the United States about twenty years ago by a gentleman 

 of Boston, (Mass.) It is now common in gardens. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



July 1st mid 5th. Rye harvest. 



Observed the Night-Hawk, (Caprimulgus America- 

 nus,) in search of gnats, just at sun-set, the time at 

 which it usually appears for this purpose. I have heard 

 it, however, at noon. It soars very high in the air, 

 and then darts in an almost perpendicular direction, and 

 with great velocity on its prey, which is commonly in 

 thick swarms near the ground. At the moment of turning 

 lo ascend again, it utters a shrill kind of noise, something 

 like the croaking of a bull frog. This remarkable note, I 

 cannot find mentioned by any ornithologist. I suppose it 

 is occasioned by the sudden entrance of the air into the 

 throat, through the small aperture in the thin membrane 

 which lines the mouth. On capturing its prey, the mandi- 

 bles are widely expanded, and then this thin membrane 

 is stretched or tightened like the head of a drum. 



Sth. The Locusts have ceased to sing, and the branches 

 of the trees are loaded with their eggs. They seem to 

 prefer the apple trees for this purpose. 



10^/t. A species of Cerambyx seen. The elitra are of a 

 dusky orange colour, with six black spots. 



The apterous insect, which I mentioned on the 28th of 

 June, as infesting the raspberry, I placed in a box, where, 

 after fastening itself by the tail, it assumed in a few days 

 the appearance of a spotted curculio. Its covering, which 

 it has now left, looks like a cocinella punctata, or hie- 

 roglyphia. The animal in its larva or catterpillar state, 

 fed upon the raspberry — but in its winged form, (though 

 raspberries were in the box,) I found it eating a decayed in- 

 sect. Quere : Do not other insects, which undergo a 

 similar metamorphosis, also change the quality of their 

 food? 



The young of the Picus Pubescens flew into one of my 

 rooms. When I took it into my hands it uttered most 

 piteous cries, and appeared greatly enraged. It plucked 

 with its bill some feathers from its wings, and pecked fu- 

 riously at my hand. As I held it by the wings, its strug- 

 gles were so violent as to break off the principal bone of 

 one wing near the shoulder. I judged it to be a young 

 bird from the smallness of the red mark on the back of the 

 head. In other particulars, it exactly agrees with Wilson's 

 plate of the Picus Pubescens. 



14/A. Cerambyx Cinnamomeus, found in decayed wood 

 — all the species of this genus which I have seen, make a 

 sort of squeaking noise when held in the hand. 



ScarabEeus Carolinus common at night. The muscular 

 strength of this insect is remarkably great, and may be il- 

 lustrated by placing it under the hollow bottom of a large 

 candlestick; in its endeavours to escape it will move the 

 candlestick along the top of the table, much to the surprise 

 of those who are unacquainted with the cause. 



The common Locust, (grillus,) heard. The note of this 

 is very diflerent from that of the Cicada septemdecima. 



The Brown Caterpillar mentioned on the 19th of June 

 last, is now a Brown Butterfly; the lower wings of 

 which have similar orange spots to those on the back, be- 

 sides some others of a diflerent colour. Quere: Do not 

 the colours in the caterpillar, in every case, resemble 

 those of the butterfly it produces? The chrysalis of this 

 insect splits open in the back near the head. 



20/A. Young Swallows now leave the nest. I saw 

 numbers of them on the fences, which were so tame as 

 to be easily captured. Pyrola maculata in flowers. I saw 

 also some blossoms of the Pyrola Umbellata, and P. Rotun- 

 difolia. These last, however, are now dropping off. The 

 leaves of the P. Maculata and P. Umbellata, are used by 

 the farmers in this neighbourhood as a blister, instead of 

 the Spanish-fly, (lytta vesicatoria,) and they supply its 

 place very well. 



25th. A Caterpillar of a pea-green colour, with two white 

 lines down the back, having two tails, made its appearance. 

 I enclosed one in a box, and found that it does not undergo 

 the transformation usual to caterpillars. It fastened itself 

 in a horizontal position to the top of the box, where re- 

 maining motionless for some hours, it burst open, and the 

 whole of its body, except the upper skin, the head and 

 tails, were converted into green eggs, of an eliptical form, 

 thirty-eight in number. The other pai-ts then fell off. The 

 caterpillar was about an inch long. I do not find in M. de 

 Reaumur's Insects any account of a similar process. Quere : 

 Might not these eggs have been those of the Ichneumon, 

 deposited in the body of the caterpillar! 



Jiugust 20. Caty-dids sing about this time. 

 2dth. Hops (humulus lupulus,) are pulled. The vul- 

 gar notion is, that a September wind must not blow upon 

 them. 



Potatoes are gathered in. 



A beautiful Glow-worm, which I cannot find described, 

 was taken in the woods. It measured two inches; its co- 

 lour on the back, when examined by the light of a candle, 

 was of a dirty orange-yellow, with whitish bands, which 

 formed the articulation of the worm; the under side was of 

 a lighter colour. But when exainined by a faint light, 

 or in the dark, it presents a most brilliant appearance. 

 The whitish bands which formed the articulations, and 

 which were twelve in number, then assumed a strong and 

 steady phosphorescent light, something like the evanescent 

 glow of the common fire-fly. The articulation near the 

 head was by no means so bright as the others, and the one 

 next the tail, was interrupted in the middle of the back. 

 Very near the termination of each of the little luminous 

 bands on the sides, there was a bright spot, about the size 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



of a pin's head. These were eight in number, on each 

 side, and appeared in a straight line, when the animal was 

 in motion. When the room was entirely dark, the light 

 emitted from the worm was of a clear white hue, but by- 

 candle-light it was clear pea-green, similar to the phospho- 

 rescence of the sea. The under side of the body was not 

 in the least degree luminous. When it was touched with a 

 little force it drew itself up in a kind of spiral form, like a 

 cornu mnmonis, and then the luminous bands seemed to 

 radiate from a centre, and the bright spots formed a circle 

 within them. The animal had six legs in front, and a kind 

 of leg or support beneath the last articulation. The head 

 could be withdrawn and projected from the body, some- 

 thing in the manner of a land tortoise. It deserves the 

 name of Lampyris Splendidissima. 



Near the window of my study, I noticed this morning a 

 caterpillar climbing up a single web, which he had sus- 

 pended from the branch of a tree ; the thread was about ten 

 feet long, and the insect was attached to the lower end of it. 

 I at first thought it entangled in the web of a spider. On 

 examination, I found that he must have attached the web or 

 line himself to the projecting branch of the tree, perhaps for 

 the purpose of descendingduring the night in search of food ; 

 and now as the morning advanced, he was returning to the 

 tree to avoid his enemies. He clambered up the line with 

 difficult)^, and stopped to rest himself every foot or two of 

 his ascent. He was an inch and a half long; was covered 

 with yellow hair; had two black and broad filaments pro- 

 jecting from the tail, and four from the head. 



September 21. Solidagos and asters, in all their varieties, 

 adorn the fields and hedges. Winter potatoes gathered. 

 Honey collected from the hives. 



The leaves of the Sumach, (rhus,) turn red mixed with 

 brown. This I think is the first shrub which changes the 

 colour of its leaves in the fall. 



I observed that the land tortoise, which I have in a pen, 

 begins to burrow in the ground; he now remains a great 

 part of his time in a hole I made for him under the earth, 

 though during all the summer months he never could be 

 induced to stay but a short time in it. 



2S/A. The leaves of the Maple begin to change co- 

 lour. 



I neglected to mention, that on the 2Sth and 29th of Au- 

 gust, all our Martins left us. If the second brood, (for 

 they usually have two broods in a season,) is not fledged, 

 or otherwise prepared to accompany them when the time of 

 migration arrives, it is left behind in the nest. In cleaning 

 the nest when they return the following spring, the dried 

 carcases are thrown out. 



October \st. I saw to-day what appeared to me the same 

 species of butterfly, as that mentioned April 1st; if so, this 



insect, as the one mentioned May 4th, continues with us 

 during the greater part of the 5'ear. 



Large numbers of orange-coloured and brown caterpillars 

 were seen creeping along the fences, and upon the shrubs. 

 Upon confining some of them in a box, they wrapped them- 

 selves up in their cocoons. 



4th. The elm and the black cherry tree begin to change 

 the colour of their leaves, many of them dropping ofi". A 

 caterpillar about three inches long, of a dusky brown co- 

 lour, with oblique yellow bands on the side, and having a 

 curved protuberance, something resembling a horn, placed 

 near the tail, was observed on the corn. 



Catydids have ceased to chirp. I observed that these in- 

 sects within ten days past, commence their chirping about 

 one o'clock in the afternoon, though when they first ap- 

 peared, they rarely began before sun-set. 



I hear no more the notes of our little Blue Bird, — he is 

 the last songster in the fall, and the first in the spring. 



"When all the gay scenes of the Summer are o'er, 



And Autumn slow enters, so silent and sallow; 

 And millions of warblers that charmed us before 



Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking' swallow — 

 The Blue Bird forsuken, yet true to his home, 



Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow, 

 'Till forced by the horrors of Winter to roam, 



He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow." Wilson. 



\2th. Wild Geese begin to pass over this place on their 

 flight to the south. This circumstance is considered by us 

 a certain indication of approaching cold weather. The lakes 

 which form our northern and western boundary, are the 

 summer resort of the geese; and they remain there till 

 driven away by the cold. 



\3th. The leaves of the common blackberry, (rubus 

 occidentalis,) turn red. I observed that the leaves of a 

 small buttonwood tree had changed to yellow, while those 

 on a larger tree remained green. From this one might 

 be led to conclude that large trees retain the colour of their 

 leaves longer than small ones. The first change of this 

 kind certainly takes place in small shrubs or herbs. 



A tortoise was seen crossing the path in the woods; from 

 this I suppose that when at liberty, that animal does not 

 retire for the winter so soon as when confined. (See 

 Sept. 21th.) 



14th. The leaves of the Athenian Poplar turn yellow; 

 this tree was small. 



I6th. We had a severe frost this evening; this, though 

 not the first, is by far the heaviest. The observation on the 

 Blue Bird made on the 9th instant, should be inserted here, 

 as I heard one this morning. 



The Locust, (gleditsia,) turns yellow. There appears to 

 be a great coincidence in the discolouration of the leaves of 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



the following trees; and the beauty of our forest at this 

 season, owing to this circumstance, is not equalled by its 

 appearance at any other time of the year. 



White Ash — leaves turn bright yellow. 



White Oak — leaves, dark orange. 



Black Oak — reddish-brown. 



Hickory — pale yellow. 



Maple — light red. 



24th. The weather, for a day or two past, has been re- 

 markably mild. I heard the little Blue Bird in the air, 

 and the grasshopper among the low plants. The Catydids 

 chirped on the trees, and the old tortoise dragged himself 

 from his winter retreat to crawl in the sunshine. 



As a person was walking in a field just back of my 

 study, and through which there was a small stream of 

 water, a large bird alighted on the ground, within a few 

 yards of him. On approaching the bird he ruffled his fea- 

 thers, and made a show of resistance; he exhibited no 

 signs of fear, and permitted himself to be taken. When he 

 was brought to me he was quite furious, and struck at me 

 with his bill, though at some distance from him. I looked 

 him steadily in the eyes, and this seemed to provoke him 

 exceedingly. He is a species of Bittern, and comes very 

 near the Ardea Stellaris, of Linn6. The Bittern is only 

 occasionally seen in this part of New-Jersey, and never 

 remains more than a day or two on his return from north- 

 ern latitudes to milder climates. 



25th. The weather has become damp and cold; the tall 

 Lombardy Poplar changes the colour of its leaves yellow, 

 while those which were lopped last October, are still green. 

 This verifies the remark of the Rev. G. Wliite, that lopped 

 trees, while their heads are young, carry their leaves a 

 long time. 



Quere: — Is there any thing in the vulgar proverb, that 

 "Cocks crow for Christmas?" I think they certainly 

 crow earlier about this time of the year, than during the 

 summer months. Probably this is occasioned by the even- 

 ing commencing sooner. 



There was an unusual number of worms and crawling in- 

 sects of every description last spring and summer. On the 

 summer preceding, there was an unusual drought, which 

 perhaps was the cause of the death of vast numbers of 

 toads, who live upon these animals; it is certainly a fact that 

 we had but few toads this year. 

 27th. Cherry trees become red. 



Apple trees become yellow. 

 29th. This morning I found ice made in the tubs, the 

 thickness of half a dollar. I saw the Blue Birds flying 

 about the fences, and the little yellow butterfly skimming 

 along the road. 



Nov. 8th. After some cold weather, we have had a few 

 pleasant days. I have seen a large moth hovering about at 

 night; and a red, brown, and white butterfly, during the 

 day. The old tortoise has also left his winter retreat. 



nth. This morning we had a storm of hail. The hail- 

 stones were very small. 



20th. The leaves of the weeping willow are yet green. 

 This is among the first trees which show signs of vegeta- 

 tion, and it is also the last. Though not an invariable rule, 

 it commonly happens, I think, that those plants which ve- 

 getate first, retain their leaves the longest. It is to be ex- 

 pected that those plants which are hard enough to bud 

 during the cold of the spring, would remain longest unin- 

 jured by the severities of winter, as I have before re- 

 marked. 



From this period to the close of the year, nothing re- 

 markable has occurred — 



" 15: 9ESE VERTITUR ANNUS." 



THE LION. 



[Concluded from page 36.] 



Mr. BuRCHELL, as we may learn from the foregoing ex- 

 tract, is not inclined to maintain the courage of the African 

 Lion, whatever impression he may have had of his extra- 

 ordinary physical strength. The natural habits of the Lion 

 are certainly those of treachery; he is not disposed, under 

 any circumstances, to meet his prey face to face; and he is 

 particularly unwilling to encounter man when he crosses 

 him in the full blaze of day. The inability of his eye, (in 

 common with most others of the cat tribe,) to bear a strong 

 light, may account, in a great degree, for this circumstance, 

 which has probably brought upon liim much of the reproach 

 of being a skulking, cowardly animal. But we apprehend 

 that there were periods in the history of African coloniza- 

 tion, when the Lion was of a bolder nature in his encoun- 

 ters with mankind; that the dread of fire-arms has become, in 

 some degree, a habit of the species; and that he has sagacity, 

 or hereditary instinct, to know that a flash and a loud sound 

 is often followed by a speedy death or a grievous injury. 

 One of the most remarkable examples of the audacity of a 

 Lion, is to be found in the Journal of a Settler at the Cape, 

 more than a century ago. The first settlement of the 

 Dutch at Cape Town, was in the year 1652: the site which 

 they selected was on the southern edge of Table Bay, and 

 the number of the settlers amounted only to a hundred per- 

 sons. In half a century the colonists had greatly increased, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



57 



and had driven the native Hottentots a considerable dis- 

 tance into the interior, amongst dry and barren tracts. 

 This is the ordinary course of colonization. In 1705, 

 the Landdrost, (a local magistrate,) Jos. Sterreberg Kupt, 

 proceeded on a journey into the country, to procure some 

 young oxen for the Dutch East India Company; and he has 

 left a very interesting Journal of his expedition, which has 

 been translated from the original Dutch, and published by 

 the Rev. Dr. Philip in his truly valuable Researches in 

 South Africa. The account which the Landdrost gives of 

 the adventure of his company with a Lion, is altogether so 

 curious, that we extract it without abridgment: — 



" Our wagons, which were obliged to take a circuitous 

 route, arrived at last, and we pitched our tent a musket- 

 shot from the kraal; and after having arranged every 

 thing, went to rest, but were soon disturbed; for, about 

 midnight, the cattle and horses which were standing be- 

 tween the wagons, began to start and run, and one of the 

 drivers to shout, on which every one ran out of the tent 

 with his gun. About thirty paces from the tent stood a 

 Lion, which, on seeing us, walked very deliberately about 

 thirty paces farther, behind a small thorn-bush, carrying 

 something with him, which I took to be a young ox. We 

 fired more than sixty shots at that bush, and pierced it 

 stoutly, without perceiving any movement. The southeast 

 wind blew strong, the sky was clear, and the moon shone 

 very bright, so that we could perceive every thing at that 

 distance. After the cattle had been quieted again, and I 

 had looked over every thing, I missed the sentry from be- 

 fore the tent, Jan Smit, from Antwerp, belonging to the 

 Groene Kloof. We called as loudly as possible, but in vain — 

 nobody answered; from which I concluded that the Lion 

 had carried him off. Three or four men then advanced 

 very cautiously to the bush, which stood right opposite the 

 door of the tent, to sec if they could discover any thing 

 of the man, but returned helter-skelter, for the Lion, who 

 was there still, rose up, and began to roar. They found 

 there the musket of the sentry, which was cocked, and 

 also his cap and shoes. 



" We fired again about a hundred shots at the bush, 

 (which was sixty paces from the tent, and only thirty paces 

 from the wagons, and at which we were able to point as at 

 a target,) without perceiving any thing of the Lion, from 

 which we concluded that he was killed, or had run away. 

 This induced the marksman, Jan Stamansz, to go and see 

 if he was there still or not, taking with him a firebrand. 

 But as soon as he approached the bush, the Lion roared 

 terribly, and leapt at him, on which he threw the firebrand 

 at him, and the other people having fired about ten shots, 

 he retired directly to his former place behind that bush. 



" The firebrand which he had thrown at the Lion, had 



fallen in the midst of the bush, and, favoured by the strong 

 south-east wind, it began to burn with a great flame, so 

 that we could see very clearly into and through it. We 

 continued our firing into it; the night passed away, and the 

 day began to break, which animated every one to aim at 

 the Lion, because he could not go from thence without 

 exposing himself entirely, as the bush stood directly 

 against a steep kloof. Seven men, posted on the farthest 

 wagons, watched him to take aim at him if he should come 

 out. 



"At last, before it became quite light, he walked up the 

 hill with the man in his mouth, when about forty shots 

 were fired at him, without hitting him, although some 

 were very near. Every time this happened, he turned 

 round towards the tent, and came roaring towards us; and 

 I am of opinion, that if he had been hit, he would have 

 rushed on the people and the tent. 



"When it became broad day-light, we perceived, by 

 the blood, and a piece of the clothes of the man, that the 

 Lion had taken him away, and carried him with him. We 

 also found behind the bush, the place where the Lion had 

 been keeping the man, and it appeared impossible that no 

 ball should have hit him, as we found in that place several 

 balls beaten flat. We concluded that he was wounded, and 

 not far from this. The people, therefore, requested per- 

 mission to go in search of the man's corpse, in order to 

 bury it, supposing that, by our continual firing, the Lion 

 would not have had time to devour much of it. I gave 

 permission to some, on condition that they should take a 

 good party of armed Hottentots with them, and made 

 them promise that they would not run into danger, but 

 keep a good look out, and be circumspect. On this seven 

 of them, assisted by forty -three armed Hottentots, fol- 

 lowed the track, and found the Lion about half a league 

 farther on, lying behind a little bush. On the shout of the 

 Hottentots he sprang up and ran away, on which they all 

 pursued him. At last, the beast turned round, and rushed, 

 roaring terribly, amongst the crowd. The people, fatigued 

 and out of breath with their running, fired and missed him, 

 on which he made directly towards them. The captain, 

 or chief head of the kraal, here did a brave act in aid of two 

 of the people whom the Lion attacked. The gun of one of 

 them missed fire, and the other missed his aim, on which 

 the captain threw himself between the Lion and the people 

 so close, that the Lion struck his claws into the caross 

 (mantle) of the Hottentot. But he was too agile for him, 

 dofied his caross, and stabbed him with an assagai. In- 

 stantly, the other Hottentots hastened on, and adorned him 

 with their assagais, so that he looked like a porcupine. 

 Notwithstanding this, he did not leave oflf roaring and 

 leaping, and bit off some of the assagais, till the marksman, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



Jan Stamansz fired a ball into his eye, which made him 

 turn over, and he was then shot dead by the other people. 

 He was a tremendously large beast, and had but a short 

 time before carried off a Hottentot from the kraal, and 

 devoured him." 



Mr. Pringle, who had extraordinary opportunities of 

 observing the habits of the half-civilized natives of South- 

 ern Africa, and of becoming acquainted with the character- 

 istics of the wild beasts with which that part of the world 

 abounds, has given us a very good description of the Lion 

 hunt, in which he and several of his countrymen, all 

 somewhat inexperienced in such adventures, was engaged. 

 Mr. Pringle was a settler on the eastern frontier of the 

 Cape Colony; and in 1822 was residing on his farm, or 

 "location," at Bavian's River. We should deprive his 

 account of a Lion hunt of its interest, if we attempted to 

 give it in any other than his own words: — 



"One night a Lion, that had previously purloined a few 

 sheep out of my kraal, came down and killed my riding 

 horse, about a hundred yards from the door of my cabin. 

 Knowing that the Lion, when he does not carry off his 

 prey, usually conceals himself in the vicinity, and is very 

 apt to be dangerous, by prowling about the place in search 

 of more game, I resolved to have him destroyed or dislodged 

 without delay. I therefore sent a messenger round the 

 location, to invite all who were willing to assist in the 

 enterprise, to repair to the place of rendezvous as speedily 

 as possible. In an hour every man of the party, (with the ex- 

 ception of two pluckless fellows who were kept at home by 

 the women,) appeared ready mounted, and armed. We were 

 also reinforced by about a dozen of the ' Bastaard' or Mu- 

 latto Hottentots, who resided at that time upon our terri- 

 tory as tenants, or herdsmen, — an active and enterprising, 

 though rather an unsteady race of men. Our friends, the 

 Tarka boors, many of whom are excellent Lion hunters, 

 were all too far distant to assist us — our nearest neighbours, 

 residing at least twenty miles from the location. We were, 

 therefore, on account of our own inexperience, obliged to 

 make our Hottentots the leaders of the chase. 



" The first point was to track the Lion to his covert. 

 This was effected by a few of the Hottentots, on foot. 

 Commencing from the spot where the horse was killed, 

 they followed the spoor* thrbugh grass, and gravel, and 

 brushwood, with astonishing ease and dexterity, where an 

 inexperienced eye could discern neither footprint nor mark 

 of any kind, — until, at length, we fairly tracked him into 

 a large bosch, or straggling thicket of brushwood and ever- 

 greens, about a mile distant. 



" The next object was to drive him out of this retreat, 



• The Hottentot name for a footmark. 



in order to attack him in close phalanx, and with more 

 safety and effect. The approved mode in such cases is to 

 torment him with dogs till he abandons his covert, and stands 

 at bay in the open plain. The whole band of hunters then 

 march forward together, and fire deliberately, one by one. 

 If he does not speedily fall, and grows angry, and turns 

 upon his enemies, they must then stand close in a circle, 

 and turn their horses rear-outward; some holding them 

 fast by the bridles, while the others kneel to take a steady 

 aim at the Lion as he approaches, sometimes up to the 

 very horses' heels — crouching every now and then, as if 

 to measure the distance and strength of his enemies. This 

 is the moment to shoot him fairly in the forehead, or some 

 other mortal part. If they continue to wound him inef- 

 fectually till he waxes furious and desperate; or if the horses, 

 startled by his terrific roar, grow frantic with terror, and 

 burst loose, the business becomes rather serious, and may 

 end in mischief — especially if all the party are not men of 

 courage, coolness, and experience. The frontier boors are, 

 however, generally such excellent marksmen, and withal 

 so cool and deliberate, that they seldom fail to shoot him 

 dead, as soon as they get within a fair distance. 



" In the present instance, we did not manage matters 

 quite so scientifically. The Bastaards, after recounting to 

 us all these and other sage laws of Lion hunting, were 

 themselves the first to depart from them. Finding that 

 the few indifferent hounds we had made little impression 

 on the enemy, they divided themselves into two or three 

 parties, and rode round the jungle, firing into the spot 

 where the dogs were barking round him, but without 

 effect. At length, after some hours spent in thus beating 

 about the bush, the Scottish blood of some of my country- 

 men began to get impatient; and three of them announced 

 their determination to march in and beard the Lion in his 

 den, provided three of the Bastaards, (who were superior 

 marksmen,) would support them, and follow up their fire, 

 should the enemy venture to give battle. Accordingly, 

 in they went, (in spite of the warnings of some more 

 prudent men among us,) to within fifteen or twenty paces 

 of the spot where the animal lay concealed. He was 

 couched among the roots of a large evergreen bush, with a 

 small space of open ground on one side of it; and they 

 fancied on approaching, that they saw him distinctly, lying 

 glaring at them from under the foliage. Charging the 

 Bastaards to stand firm and level fair should they miss, the 

 Scottish champions let fly together, and struck — not the 

 Lion, as it afterwards proved — but a great block of red 

 stone, beyond which he was actually lying. Whether any 

 of the shot grazed him is uncertain, but, with no other 

 warning than a furious growl, forth he bolted from the bush. 

 The pusillanimous Bastaards, in place of now pouring in 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



59 



their volley upon him, instantly turned, and fled helter- 

 skelter, leaving him to do his pleasure upon the defence- 

 less Scots — who, with empty guns, were tumbling over 

 each other, in their hurry to escape the clutch of the 

 rampant savage. In a twinkling he was upon them, and, 

 with one stroke of his paw, dashed the nearest to the 

 ground. The scene was terrific! There stood the Lion, 

 with his foot upon his prostrate foe, looking round in con- 

 scious power and pride upon the bands of his assailants — 

 and with a port the most noble and imposing that can be 

 conceived. It was the most magnificent thing I ever 

 witnessed. Thedangerof our friends, however, rendered 

 it at the moment too terrible to enjoy either the grand or 

 the ludicrous part of the picture. We expected to see 

 one or more of them torn in pieces; nor, though the rest 

 of the party were standing within fifty paces, with 

 their guns cocked and levelled, durst we fire for their as- 

 sistance. One was lying under the Lion's paw, and 

 the others scrambling towards us in such a way as to 

 intercept our aim at him. All this passed far more rapidly 

 than I have described it. But luckily the Lion, after 

 steadily surveying us for a-few seconds, seemed willing 

 to be quits with us on fair terms; and with a fortunate 

 forbearance, (for which he met but an ungrateful recom- 

 pense,) turned calmly away, and driving the snarling dogs 

 like rats from among his heels, bounded over the adjoining 

 thicket like a cat over a footstool, clearing brakes and 

 bushes twelve or fifteen feet high as readily as if they had 

 been tufts of grass, and, abandoning the jungle, retreated 

 towards the mountains. 



" After ascertaining the state of our rescued comrade, 

 (who fortunately had sustained no other injury than a 

 slight scratch on the back, and a severe bruise in the ribs, 

 from the force with which the animal had dashed him to 

 the ground,) we renewed the chase with Hottentots and 

 hounds in full cry. In a short time we again came up 

 with the enemy, and found him standing at bay under an 

 old mimosa tree, by the side of a mountain-stream, which 

 we had distinguished by the name of Douglas Water. The 

 dogs were barking round, but afraid to approach him, for 

 he was now beginning to growl fiercely, and to brandish 

 his tail in a manner that showed he was meditating mis- 

 chief. The Hottentots, by taking a circuit between him 

 and the mountain, crossed the stream, and took a position 

 on the top of a precipice overlooking the spot where 

 he stood. Another party of us occupied a position on 

 the other side of the glen; and placing the poor fellow 

 between two fires, which confused his attention, and pre- 

 vented his retreat, we kept battering away at him, till he 

 fell, unable again to grapple with us, pierced with many 

 wounds. 



"He proved to be a full grown Lion, of the yellow 

 variety, about five or six years of age. He measured 

 nearly twelve feet from the nose to the tip of the tail. 

 His fore leg, below the knee, was so thick that I could not 

 span it with both hands; and his neck, breast, and limbs, 

 appeared, when the skin was taken ofi", a complete conge- 

 ries of sinews." 



The Lion, as well as all of the cat tribe, takes his prey 

 at night; and it is necessary, therefore, that he should 

 have peculiar organs of vision. In all those animals which 

 seek their food in the dark, the e)'e is usually of a large 

 size, to admit a great number of rays; and that part which is 

 called the choroides reRects, instead of absorbing the light. 

 The power of seeing in the dai'k, which the cat tribe pos- 

 sesses, has always appeared a subject of mystery; and it 

 is natural that it should be so, for man himself sees with 

 more difficulty in the dark than any other animal: he has a 

 compensation in his ability to produce artificial light. 

 There were formerly two opinions on the subject of the 

 cat's eye: the one, that the external light only is reflected; 

 the other, that light was generated in the eye itself. Pro- 

 fessor Bohn, of Leipsic, made experiments, however, 

 which proved that, when the external light is wholly 

 excluded, none can be seen in the cat's eye; and it is now 

 established that the illumination is wholly produced by the 

 external rays of light, which, after being concentrated by 

 those parts which are called the cornea, and the crystal- 

 line lens, are reflected in a brilliant concave mirror at the 

 bottom of the eye, called the tapetum. This efiect may 

 be constantly seen in the domestic cat. In the strong 

 light of day, the iris is contracted, so that a very small 

 quantity of light is admitted to this mirror; but in the 

 twilight the iris opens, and then the mirror being com- 

 pletely exposed, the eye glares in the manner with which 

 we are all familiar. The construction, therefore, of the 

 eye of the cat tribe enables them to collect in one focus 

 whatever rays of light there may be: and few places are so 

 dark but that some light may be found — as we know, when 

 we have gone into a cellar, where the darkness at first 

 appears impenetrable, but where, even with our difierently 

 constructed organ of vision, we soon distinguish objects 

 without diflSculty. This peculiar eye, therefore, is neces- 

 sary to the Lion to perceive his prey; and he creeps to- 

 wards it with a certainty which nothing but this distinct 

 nocturnal vision could give. 



Every one must have observed what are usually called 

 the whiskers, on a cat's upper lip. The use of these in a 

 state of nature is very important. They are organs of 

 touch. They are attached to a bed of close glands under 

 the skin; and each of these long and stiff hairs is connected 

 with the nerves of the lip. The slightest contact of these 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



whiskers with any surrounding object is thus felt most 

 distinctly by the animal, although the hairs are themselves 

 insensible. They stand out on each side, in the Lion, as 

 well as in the common cat, so that, from point to point, 

 they are equal to the width of the animal's body. If we 

 imagine, therefore, a Lion stealing through a covert of 

 wood in an imperfect light, we shall at once see the use of 

 these long hairs. They indicate to him, through the nicest 

 feeling, any obstacle which may present itself to the pas- 

 sage of his body; they prevent the rustle of boughs and 

 leaves, which would give warning to his prey if he were 

 to attempt to pass through too close a bush; and thus, in 

 conjunction with the soft cushions of his feet, and the fur 

 upon which he treads, (the retractile claws never coming 

 in contact with the ground,) they enable him to move 

 towards his victim with a stillness greater even than that of 

 the snake, who creeps along the grass, and is not perceived 

 till he has coiled round his prey. — Lib. Ent. Knowl. 



DRIFTING OF ANIMALS ON FLOATING 

 ISLANDS. 



The power of the terrestrial mammalia to cross the sea 

 is very limited, and we have already stated that the same 

 species is scarcely ever common to districts widely sepa- 

 rated by the ocean. If there be some exceptions to this 

 rule they generally admit of explanation, for there are na- 

 tural means whereby some animals may be floated across 

 the water, and the seacsometimes wears a passage through a 

 neck of land, leaving individuals of a species on each side 

 of the new channel. Polar bears are known to have been 

 frequently drifted on the ice from Greenland to Iceland; 

 they can also swim to considerable distances, for Captain 

 Parry, on the return of his ships through Barrow's Strait, 

 met with a bear swimming in the water about midway be- 

 tween the shores, which were about forty miles apart, and 

 where no ice was in sight. " Near the east coast of Green- 

 land," observes Scoresby, " they have been seen on the ice in 

 such quantities, that they were compared to flocks of sheep 

 on a common — and they are often found on field ice above 

 two hundred miles from the shore." Wolves, in the arc- 

 tic regions, often venture upon the ice near the shore, for 

 the purpose of preying upon young seals, which they sur- 

 prise when asleep. When these ice-floes get detached, the 

 wolves are often carried out to sea, and though some may 

 be drifted to islands or continents, the greater part of them 

 perish, and have been often heard in this situation howling 

 dreadfully, as they die by famine. 



During the short summer which visits Melville Island, 

 various plants push forth their leaves and flowers the mo- 

 ment the snow is off the ground, and form a carpet span- 

 gled with the most lively colours. These secluded spots 

 are reached annually by herds of musk-oxen and rein-deer, 

 which travel immense distances over dreary and desolate 

 regions, to graze undisturbed on these luxuriant pastures. 

 The rein-deer often pass along in the same manner, by the 

 chain of the Aleutian Islands, from Behring's Straits to 

 Kamtschatka, subsisting on the moss found in these islands 

 during their passage. 



Within the tropics there are no ice-floes; but, as if to 

 compensate for that mode of transportation, there are float- 

 ing isles of matted trees, which are often borne along 

 through considerable spaces. These are sometimes seen 

 sailing at the distance of fifty or one hundred miles from 

 the mouth of the Ganges, with living trees standing erect 

 upon them. The Amazon, the Congo, and the Orinoco, 

 also produce these verdant rafts, which are formed in the 

 manner already described when speaking of the great raft 

 of the Atchafalaya, an arm of the Mississippi, where a natu- 

 ral bridge of timber, ten miles long, and more than two 

 hundred yards wide, has existed for more than forty years, 

 supporting a luxuriant vegetation, and rising and sinking 

 with the water which flows beneath. That this enormous 

 mass will one day break up and send down a multitude of 

 floating islands to the gulf of Mexico, is the hope and well- 

 founded expectation of the inhabitants of Louisiana. 



On these green isles of the Mississippi, observes Malte- 

 Brun, young trees take root,and the pisliar and nenuphar dis- 

 play their yellow flowers; there serpents, birds, and the 

 cayman alligator, come to repose, and all are sometimes 

 carried to the sea, and engulphcd in its waters. 



In a memoir lately published, a naval ofiicer informs us, 

 that as lie returned from China by the eastern passage, he 

 fell in, among the Moluccas, with several small floating 

 islands of this kind, covered with mangrove trees, inter- 

 woven with underwood. The trees and shrubs retained 

 their verdure, receiving nourishment from a stratum of 

 soil which formed a white beach round the margin of each 

 raft, where it was exposed to the washing of the waves and 

 the rays of the sun. The occurrence of soil in such situa- 

 tions, may easily be explained, for all the natural bridges 

 of timber which occasionally connect the islands of the 

 Ganges, Mississippi, and other rivers, with their banks, 

 are exposed to floods of water densely charged with sedi- 

 ment. 



Captain W. H. Smyth informs us, that when cruizing 

 in the Cornwallis amidst the Philippine Islands, he has more 

 than once seen, after those dreadful hurricanes called ty- 

 phoens, floating islands of wood, with trees growing upon 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



61 



them, and that ships have sometimes been in imminent 

 peril, in consequence of mistaking them for terra-firma. 



It is highly interesting to trace, in imagination, the ef- 

 fects of the passage of these rafts from the mouth of a large 

 river to some archipelago, such as those in the South Paci- 

 fic, raised from the deep in comparatively modern times, 

 by the operations of the volcano and the earthquake, and 

 the joint labours of coral animals and testacea. If a storm 

 arise, and the frail vessel be wrecked, still many a bird and 

 insect may succeed in gaining, by flight, some island of 

 the newly-formed group, while the seeds and berries of 

 herbs and shrubs, which fall into the waves, may be thrown 

 upon the strand. But if the surface of the deep be calm, 

 and the rafts are carried along by a current, or wafted by 

 some slight breath of air fanning the foliage of the green 

 trees, it may arrive, after a passage of several weeks, at 

 the bay of an island, into which its plants and animals may 

 be poured out as from an ark, and thus a colony of several 

 hundred new species may at once be naturalized. 



We may remind the reader, that we merely advert to 

 the transportation of these rafts as of extremely rare and 

 accidental occurrence; but it may account, in tropical 

 countries, for some of the rare exceptions to the general 

 law, of the confined range of species. — LyelVs Geology. 



RUBY-CROWNED WREN. 

 SYLVIA CALENDULA. 



[Plate VI. Vol.2. Reduced to half size.] 



Le Roitelet Rubis, Buff. v. 373. — Edw. 254. — Lath. 

 Syn. II. 511. — Arct. Zool. 320. — Regulus cristatus 

 alter vertice rubini co/orw, Bartram, p. 292. — Mota- 

 cilla calendula, Linn. i. p. 337. — Gmel. Syst. i. p. 

 994. — Sylvia calendula, Lath. Lid. Orn. p. 549. — 

 Regulus rubineus, Vieillot, Ois. de VAm. Sept. pi. 

 104. — J. Doughty's Collection. 



This little bird visits us early in the spring from the 

 south, and is generally first found among the maple blos- 

 soms, about the beginning of April. These failing, it has 

 recourse to those of the peach, apple, and other fruit trees, 

 partly for the tops of the sweet and slender stamina of the 

 flowers, and partly for the winged insects that hover among 

 them. In the middle of summer I have rarely met with 

 these birds in Pennsylvania, and as they penetrate as far 

 north as the country round Hudson's Bay, and also breed 

 there, it accounts for their late arrival here in fall. They 

 then associate with the different species of Titmouse, and 



the Golden-crested Wren; and are particularly numerous 

 in the month of October and beginning of November, in 

 orchards, among the decaying leaves of the apple trees, 

 that at that season are infested with great numbers of small, 

 black winged insects, among which they make great havoc. 

 I have often regretted the painful necessity one is under of 

 taking away the lives of such inoffensive and useful little 

 creatures, merely to obtain a more perfect knowledge of 

 the species, for they appear so busy, so active, and unsuspect- 

 ing, as to continue searching about the same twig, even 

 after their companions have been shot down beside them. 

 They are more remarkably so in autumn ; which may be 

 owing to the great number of young and inexperienced 

 birds which are then among them; and frequently at this 

 season I have stood under the tree, motionless, to observe 

 them, while they gleaned among the low branches, some- 

 times within a foot or two of my head. They are extremely 

 adroit in catching their prey; have only at times a feeble 

 chirp; visit the tops of the tallest trees, as well as the low- 

 est bushes; and continue generally for a considerable time 

 among the branches of the same tree, darting about from 

 place to place; appearing, when on the top of a high ma- 

 ple, no bigger than humble-bees. 



The Ruby-crowned Wren is four inches long, and six in 

 extent; the upper parts of the head, neck and back, are of 

 a fine greenish-olive, with a considerable tinge of yellow; 

 wings and tail, dusky purplish-brown, exteriorly edged 

 with yellow olive; secondaries and first row of wing-coverts 

 edged and tipt with white, with a spotof deep purplish-brown 

 across the secondaries, just below their coverts; the hind 

 head is ornamented with an oblong lateral spot of vermil- 

 lion, usually almost hid by the other plumage; round the 

 eye a ring of yellowish-white; whole under parts of the 

 same tint; legs dark brown; feet and claws yellow; bill 

 slender, straight, not notched, furnished with a few black 

 hairs at the base; inside of the mouth orange. The female 

 differs very little in its plumage from the male, the colours 

 being less lively, and the bird somewhat less. Notwith- 

 standing my utmost endeavours, I have never been able to 

 discover their nest; though, from the circumstance of hav- 

 ing found them sometimes here in summer, I am persuaded 

 that they occasionally breed in Pennsylvania; but I know 

 several birds, no larger than this, that usually build on the 

 extremities of the tallest trees in the woods; which I have 

 discovered from their beginning before the leaves are out; 

 many others, no doubt, choose similar situations; and 

 should they delay building until the woods are thickened 

 with leaves, it is no easy matter to discover them. In fall 

 they are so extremely fat, as almost to dissolve between the 

 fingers as you open them; owing to the great abundance of 

 their favourite insects at that time. — Wilson. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



BLUE JAY. 

 C OR VUS ORIS TA TVS. 



[Plate VI. Vol.2. Reduced to half size.] 



Linn. Syst. i. p. 106, No. 8. ed. 10. — Garriilus cana- 

 densis cceruleus, Briss. ii. p. 55. — Pica glandaria 

 cristata, Klein, p. 61, 3. — Le Geai bleu de V Amerique 

 Septentrionale, Buff. hi. p. 120. PI. Enl. 529. — Blue 

 Jay, Catesb. Car. i. 15. — Edw. 239. — Arct. Zool. ii. 

 No. 138. — Lath. Syn. i. p. 386, 20. — Bartram, p. 

 290. — J. Doughty's Collection. 



This elegant bird, which, as far as I can learn, is pecu- 

 liar to North America, is distinguished as a kind of beau 

 among the feathered tenants of our woods, by the brilliancy 

 of his dress; and like most other coxcombs, makes him- 

 self still more conspicuous by his loquacity, and the odd- 

 ness of his tones and gestures. The Jay measures eleven 

 inches in length; the head is ornamented with a crest of 

 light blue or purple feathers, which he can elevate or de- 

 press at pleasure; a narrow line of black runs along the 

 frontlet, rising on each side higher than the eye, but not 

 passing over it, as Catesby has represented, and as Pen- 

 nant and many others have described it; back and upper 

 part of the neck a fine light purple, in which the blue pre- 

 dominates; a collar of black proceeding from the hind-head, 

 passes with a graceful curve down each side of the neck, 

 to the upper part of the breast, where it forms a crescent; 

 chin, cheeks, throat, and belly, white, the three former 

 slightly tinged with blue; greater wing-coverts a rich blue; 

 exterior sides of the primaries light blue, those of the secon- 

 daries a deep purple, except the three feathers next the 

 body, which are of a splendid light blue; all these, except 

 the primaries, are beautifully barred with crescents of 

 black, and tipt with white; the interior sides of the wing 

 feathers are dusky black; tail long and cuneiform, com- 

 posed of twelve feathers of a glossy light blue, marked at 

 half inches with transverse curves of black, each feather 

 being tipt with white, except the two middle ones, which 

 deepen into a dark purple at the extremities. Breast and 

 sides under the wings a dirty white, faintly stained with 

 purple; inside of the mouth, the tongue, bill, legs, and 

 claws, black; iris of the eye, hazel. 



The Blue Jay is an almost universal inhabitant of the 

 woods, frequenting the thickest settlements, as well as the 

 deepest recesses of the forest, where his squalling voice often 

 alarms the deer, to the disappointment and mortification of 

 the hunter; one of whom informed me, that he made it a 

 point, in summer, to kill every Jay he could meet with. 

 In the charming season of spring, when every thicket pours 



forth harmony, the pait performed by the Jay always 

 catches the ear. He appears to be, among his fellow-mu- 

 sicians, what the trumpeter is in a band, some of his notes 

 having no distant resemblance to the tones of that instru- 

 ment. These he has the faculty of changing through a 

 great variety of modulations, according to the particular 

 humour he happens to be in. When disposed to ridicule, 

 there is scarce a bird whose peculiarities of song he cannot 

 tune his notes to. When engaged in the blandishments of 

 love, they resemble the soft chatterings of a duck; and while 

 he nestles among the thick branches of the cedar, are 

 scarce heard at a few paces distance; but no sooner does 

 he discover your approach, than he sets up a sudden and 

 vehement outcry, flying off, and screaming with all his 

 might, as if he called the whole feathered tribes of the 

 neighbourhood to witness . some outrageous usage he had 

 received. When he hops undisturbed among the high 

 branches of the oak and hickory, they become soft and 

 musical; and his calls of the female, a stranger would rea- 

 dily mistake for the repeated creakings of an ungreased 

 wheelbarrow. All these he accompanies with various nods, 

 jerks, and other gesticulations, for which the whole tribe 

 of Jays are so remarkable, that, with some other peculiari- 

 ties, they might have very well justified the great Swedish 

 naturalist in forming them into a separate genus by them- 

 selves. 



The Blue Jay builds a large nest, frequently in the cedar, 

 sometimes in an apple-tree, lines it with dry fibrous roots, 

 and lays five eggs, of a dull olive, spotted with brown. 

 The male is particularly careful of not being heard near 

 the place, making his visits as silently and secretly as possi- 

 ble. His favourite food is chesnuts, acorns, and Indian 

 corn. He occasionally feeds on bugs and caterpillars, and 

 sometimes pays a plundering visit to the orchard, cherry- 

 rows, and potatoe-patch ; and has been known, in times 

 of scarcity, to venture into the barn, through openings be- 

 tween the weather-boards. In these cases, he is extremely 

 active and silent, and if surprised in the fact, makes his 

 escape with precipitation, but without noise, as if conscious 

 of his criminality. 



Of all birds he is the most bitter enemy to the Owl. No 

 sooner has he discovered the retreat of one of these, than 

 he summons the whole feathered fraternity to his assist- 

 ance, who surround the glimmering solitaire, and attack 

 him from all sides, raising such a shout as may be heard, 

 in a still day, more than half a mile off. When in my 

 hunting excursions I have passed near the scene of tumult, 

 I have imagined to myself that I heard the insulting party 

 venting their respective charges with all the virulenc}- 

 of a Billingsgate mob; the owl, meanwhile, returning 

 every compliment with a broad goggling stare. The war 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



63 



becomes louder and louder, and the owl, at length forced 

 to betake himself to flight, is followed by the whole train 

 of his persecutors, until driven beyond the boundaries of 

 their jurisdiction. 



But the Blue Jay himself is not guiltless of similar depre- 

 dations with the owl, and becomes, in his turn, the very 

 tyrant he detested, when he sneaks through the woods, as 

 he frequently does, and among the thickets and hedge- 

 rows, plundering every nest he can find of its eggs, tearing 

 up the callow young by piecemeal, and spreading alarm 

 and sorrow around him. The cries of the distressed pa- 

 rents soon bring together a number of interested spectators, 

 (for birds, in such circumstances, seem truly to sympa- 

 thize with each other,) and he is sometimes attacked with 

 such spirit, as to be under the necessity of making a speedy 

 retreat. 



He will sometimes assault small birds, with the inten- 

 tion of killing and devouring them; an instance of which I 

 myself once witnessed, over a piece of woods, near the 

 borders of Schuylkill; where I saw him engaged for more 

 than five minutes pursuing what I took to be a species of 

 Motucilla, wheeling, darting, and doubling in the air, and 

 at last, to my great satisfaction, got disappointed, by the 

 escape of his intended prey. In times of great extremity, 

 when his hoard or magazine is frozen up, buried in snow, 

 or perhaps exhausted, he becomes very voracious, and will 

 make a meal of whatever carrion or other animal substance 

 comes in the way; and has been found regaling himself on 

 the bowels of a robin, in less than five minutes after it was 

 shot. 



There are, however, individual exceptions to this gene- 

 ral character for plunder and outrage, apronenessfor which 

 is probably often occasioned by the wants and irritations 

 of necessity. A Blue Jay, which I have kept for some 

 time, and with whom I am on terms of familiarity, is in 

 reality a very notable example of mildness of disposition, 

 and sociability of manners. An accident in the woods 

 first put me in possession of this bird, while in full plum- 

 age, and in high health and spirits; I carried him home 

 with me, and put him into a cage already occupied by a 

 Gold-winged Woodpecker, when he was saluted with such 

 rudeness, and received such a drubbing from the lord of 

 the manor, for entering his premises, that, to save his life, 

 I was obliged to take him out again. I then put him into 

 another cage, where the only tenant was a female Orchard 

 Oriole. She also put on airs of alarm, as if she considered 

 herself endangered and insulted by the intrusion; the Jay, 

 meanwhile, sat mute and motionless on the bottom of the 

 cage, either dubious of his own situation, or willing to al- 

 low time for the fears of his neighbour to subside. Ac- 

 cordingly, in a few minutes, after displaying various threat- 



ening gestures, (like some of those Indians we read of, in 

 their first interviews with the whites,) she began to make 

 her approaches, but with great circumspection and readi- 

 ness for retreat. Seeing, however, the Jay begin to pick 

 up some crumbs of broken chesnuts, in a humble and peace- 

 able way, she also descended, and began to do the same; 

 but at the slightest motion of her new guest, wheeled round, 

 and put herself on the defensive. All this ceremonious 

 jealousy vanished before evening, and they now roost 

 together, feed, and play together, in perfect harmony and 

 good humour. When the Jay goes to drink, his mess- 

 mate very impudently jumps into the water to wash her- 

 self, throwing the water in showers over her companion, 

 who bears it all very patiently ; venturing now and then to 

 take a sip between every splash, without betraying the 

 smallest token of irritation. On the contrary, he seems 

 to take pleasure in his little fellow-prisoner, allowing her 

 to pick, (which she does very gently,) about his whis- 

 kers, and to clean his claws from the minute fragments of 

 chesnuts which happen to adhere to them. This attach- 

 ment on the one part, and mild condescension on the other, 

 may, perhaps, be partly the eflect of mutual misfortunes, 

 which are found not only to knit mankind, but many spe- 

 cies of inferior animals, more closely together; and shows 

 that the disposition of the Blue Jay may be humanized, and 

 rendered susceptible of afiectionate impressions, even for 

 those birds, which, in a state of nature, he would have 

 no hesitation in making a meal of. 



He is not only bold and vociferous, but possesses a con- 

 siderable talent for mimicry, and seems to enjoy great satis- 

 faction in mocking and teasing other birds, particularly the 

 little hawk, {F. sparvei-iiis,) imitating his cry wherever 

 he sees him, and squealing out"'as if caught; this soon 

 brings a number of his own tribe around him, who all join 

 in the frolic, darting about the hawk, and feigning the 

 cries of a bird sorely wounded, and already under the 

 clutches of its devourer, while others lie concealed in 

 bushes read}^ to second their associates in the attack. But 

 this ludicrous farce often terminates tragically. The hawk 

 singling out one of the most insolent and provoking, 

 sweeps upon him in an unguarded moment, and oflers him 

 up a sacrifice to his hunger and resentment. In an instant 

 the tune is changed; all their bufibonery vanishes, and 

 loud and incessant screams proclaim their disaster. 



Wherever the Jay has had the advantage of education 

 from man, he has not only shown himself an apt scholar, 

 but his suavity of manners seems equalled only by his art 

 and contrivances; though it must be confessed that his 

 itch for thieving keeps pace with all his other acquire- 

 ments. Dr. Mease, on the authority of Col. Postell, of 

 South Carolina, informs me, that a Blue Jay, which was 




64 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



brought up in the family of the latter gentleman, had all 

 the tricks and loquacity of a parrot; pilfered every thing 

 he could conveniently carry off, and hid them in holes and 

 crevices; answered to his name with great sociability, when 

 called on; could articulate a number of words pretty dis- 

 tinctly; and when he heard any uncommon noise or loud 

 talking, seemed impatient to contribute his share to the 

 general festivity, (as he probably thought it,) by a display 

 of all the oratorial powers he was possessed of. 



JNIr. Bartram relates an instance of the Jay's sagacity, 

 worthy of remark. " Having caught a Jay in the winter 

 season," says he, "I turned him loose in the green-house, 

 and fed him with corn, (zea, maize,) the heart of which 

 they are very fond of. This grain being ripe and hard, 

 the bird at first found a difficulty in breaking it, as it would 

 start from his bill when he struck it. After looking about, 

 and as if considering for a moment, he picked up his grain, 

 carried and placed it close up in a corner on the shelf, be- 

 tween the wall and a plant-box, where being confined on 

 three sides, he soon effected his purpose, and continued 

 afterwards to make use of this same practical expedient. 

 The Jay," continues this judicious observer, "is one of 

 the most useful agents in the economy of nature, for dis- 

 seminating forest trees, and other ruciferous and hard- 

 seeded vegetables on which they feed. Their chief em- 

 ployment during the autumnal season, is foraging to sup- 

 ply their winter stores. In performing this necessary duty, 

 they drop abundance of seed in their flight over fields, 

 hedges, and by-fences, where they alight to deposit them 

 in the post-holes, &c. It is remarkable what numbers of 

 young trees rise up in fields and pastures after a wet winter 

 and spring. These birds, alone, are capable, in a few years 

 time, to replant all the cleared lands." 



The Blue Jays seldom associate in any considerable num- 

 bers, except in the months of September and October, when 

 they hover about in scattered parties of from forty to 

 fifty, visiting the oaks, in search of their favourite acorns. 

 At this season they are less shy than usual, and keep 

 chattering to each other in a variety of strange and queru- 

 lous notes. I have counted fifty-three, but never more, 

 at one time; and these generally following each other in 

 straggling irregularity from one range of woods to ano- 

 ther. Yet we are told by the learned Dr. Latham, and his 

 statement has been copied into many respectable European 

 publications, that the Blue Jays of North America "often 

 unite into flocks of twenty thousand at least! which alight- 

 ing on a field of ten or twelve acres, soon lay waste the 

 whole." If this were really so, these birds would justly 

 deserve the character he gives them, of being the most 

 destructive species in America. But I will venture the 

 assertion, that the tribe Oriolus phaniceus, or red-winged 



Blackbirds, in the environs of the river Delaware alone, 

 devour and destroy more Indian corn than the whole Blue 

 Jays of North America. As to their assembling in such 

 immense multitudes, it may be sufficient to observe, that a 

 flock of Blue Jays of twenty thousand, would be as extraor- 

 dinary an appearance in America, as the same number of 

 IMagpies or Cuckoos would be in Britain. 



It has been frequently said, that numbers of birds are 

 common to the United States and Europe; at present, how- 

 ever, I am not certain of many. Comparing the best de- 

 scriptions and delineations of the European ones with 

 those of our native birds, said to be of the same species, 

 either the former are very erroneous, or the difference of 

 plumage and habits in the latter, justify us in considering a 

 greater proportion of them to be really distinct species. Be 

 this, however, as it may, the Blue Jay appears to belong 

 exclusively to North America. I cannot find it men- 

 tioned by any writer or traveller among the birds of 

 Guiana, Brazil, or any other part of South America. It is 

 equally unknown in Africa. In Europe, and even in the 

 eastern parts of Asia, it is never seen in its wild state. To 

 ascertain the exact limits of its native regions would be 

 difficult. These, it is highly probable, will be found to 

 be bounded by the extremities of the temperate zone. Dr. 

 Latham has indeed asserted, that the Blue Jay of America 

 is not found farther north than the town of Albany. This, 

 however, is a mistake. They are common in the eastern 

 states, and are mentioned by Dr. Belknap in his enumera- 

 tion of the birds of New-Hampshire. They are also 

 natives of Newfoundland. I myself have seen them 

 in Upper Canada. Blue Jays and Yellow-birds were 

 found by Mr. M'Kenzie, when on his journey across 

 the continent, at the head waters of the Unjigah, or Peace 

 River, in N. lat. 54°, W. long. 121°, on the west side of 

 the great range of Stony Mountains. Steller, who in 

 1741 accompanied captain Behring in his expedition for 

 the discovery of the north-west coast of America, and who 

 wrote the journal of the voyage, relates, that he himself 

 went on shore near Cape St. Elias, in N. lat. 58° 28' W. 

 long. 141°4G', according to hisestimation, where he observed 

 several species of birds not known in Siberia; and one, in 

 particular, described by Catesby under the name of the Blue 

 Jay. Mr. William Bartram informs me, that they are nu- 

 merous in the peninsula of Florida, and that he also found 

 them at Natchez on the Mississippi. Captains Lewis and 

 Clark, and their intrepid companions, in their memorable 

 expedition across the continent of North America to the Pa- 

 cific Ocean, continued to see Blue Jays for six hundred miles 

 up the Missouri. From these accounts it follows, that this 

 species occupies, generally or partially, an extent of coun- 

 try stretching upwards of seventy degrees from east to 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



west, and more than thirty degrees from north to south; 

 though, from local circumstances, there may be interme- 

 diate tracts in this immense range, which they seldom 

 visit. — lb. 



ODE TO MAY 



Br CHARLES WEST THOMSON. 



I. 



The winter is past and the rain is o'er, 



The flowers appear on the earth once more — 



And Nature from icy fetters free, 



Starts into life, and song and glee — 



There's a gentle breeze comes over the land, 



From the warm south-west by the Zephyrs fann'd. 



And the frosts arouse when they hear the sound, 



And commence their march, for the Arctic bound — 



A genial softness spreads o'er the scene, 



And the hills begin to resume their green, 



And from the sunny realms of day 



Comes fleet o'er the mountains the lovely May. 



II. 



At her approach the earth awakes, 



And puts her rosy garment on, 

 And from her hand of beauty shakes 



Sweet dew-drops o'er the smiling lawn. 

 The primrose peeps from its lowly bed, 



And the fern is bright on the far-spread heath, 

 And the cowslip is crushed beneath your tread, 



As you search the meadow to bind a wreath. 

 The young leaves burst from the dark gray trees. 



Like youth and age together entwined, 

 And spreading their petals to court the breeze, 



Soon cover with beauty the mossy rind — 

 The cherry tree stands like a ghost in the wood, 



Enveloped in blossoms as white as snow. 

 While numberless others their forms obtrude. 



All cover'd with leaves of a crimson glow. 



III. 



Now from the hills — the sunny liills — 

 Come bounding down the mountain rills. 

 With laughter rude and revelry, 

 Like young fawns, joying to be free 

 From the ice-prison where they lay, 

 While winter o'er the land had sway. 

 From the deep fountains where, unseen, 

 They crept the rugged roots between, 

 They come with gay and gallant bound, 

 To irrigate and bless the ground ; 

 Cheering the woods with pleasant chimes, 

 That tell of balmy summer times, 



Q 



When heaven is bright and earth is gay, 

 And clouds and storms have passed away — 

 That tell of peaceful moon-light eves. 

 With soft winds rustling in the leaves, 

 And odours that ascend above, 

 And tranquillize the soul to love. 



IV. 



The sun from his orient chamber 



Comes early to drink the dew. 

 And spreads his bright rays, like clear amber. 



On forest and mountain blue — 

 All Nature looks gay at his coming, 



The mists roll away from the hills, 

 And insects are cheerily humming. 



In tune with the murmuring rills; 

 The cattle in quietness going, 



To the meadows are winding their way. 

 And utter their joyous lowing. 



To welcome the coming of May. 



But hark ! the voice of melody, that breaks 



In gushing fulness from the shady grove. 



Where the wild warbler of the woodland wakes 



Once more his song of harmony and love; 



The lively blackbird and the plaintive dove. 



The jay — the lark, and all the numerous train 



That haunt the earth below or air above, 



All send their varied notes of joy again, 



Glad to resume the woods, from wandering o'er the main. 



And when the first gay tint of morn is seen, 

 Fringing with ruddy light the orient cloud. 

 Amid the forest shades and alleys green, 

 O how they greet the skies with clamours loud — 

 And when the evening sun, in glory proud, 

 Sinks to his gorgeous rest and shuts the day. 

 Thro' the calm twilight how the happy crowd 

 Twitter on restless wing from spray to spray, 

 Without a grief to mar the bliss that lights their way. 



VI. 



Hail, gentle May ! the rosy queen of flowers, 

 Mistress of silent dew, and pearly showers. 

 Whose step, in freshness, on the verdant lawn, 

 Tells that the winter's rage is past and gone, 

 Thee we re-welcome to the woods and vales. 

 The ambrosial gardens, and the hedgy dales — 

 The uplifted mountains joy when thou hast smiled 

 Along their dark ravines and dingles wild ; 

 And the fair valleys laugh wlien thou art seen 

 Spreading about their plains thy mantle green — 

 The lowing cattle on a thousand hills, 

 With new delight thy balmy presence fills, — 

 The warbling birds, that sport from tree to tree, 

 Sing their wild songs of happiness to thee — 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



And even things inanimate — the streams 



And flowers — seem to own their pleasant dreams. 



Man, too, his heart with rapture sweetly filled, 



Feeling fresh life thro' all his frame distilled. 



Blessing the hand that bids thee gaily bound 



Through Nature's fields to strew thy joys around, 



Looks o'er the land, delightfully serene, 



Where human passions have not marred the scene, 



And seeing all in tranquil beauty gay, 



Hails the fair queen of Nature, rosy May ! 



From the New-England Galaxy. 



SOME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A 

 SPORTSMAN. ' 



[Continued from page 42.] 



I AM convinced from long observation, tliat persons who 

 live on or near the sea-board of New-England, are more 

 prone to wage war against the wild fowl which frequent 

 the salt marshes and sea beach, than the birds which are 

 found only in the woods. There are periods of the year 

 when wood game and sea game may be found in equal 

 abundance, and at such times I have remarked, that while 

 the woods are undisturbed, save by an occasional report, 

 the sea-shore is fairly besieged with gunners, and a con- 

 stant discharge of musquetry maintained. The more 

 scientific and fastidious Sportsman, however, prefers to 

 take his chance against a solitary wood-bird, and confines 

 his skill to the partridge, snipe, quail, woodcock, and that 

 magnificent bird, which is found only in lonely and uncul- 

 tivated moors, the Grouse. But the great body of sports- 

 men, the militia of gunners, if I may so speak, press eagerly 

 toward the sea, and carry on a most destructive warfare 

 against the goose, the coot, the teal, the yellow-leg and 

 gray-back plover, the gray and black duck, the widgeon, 

 curlew, the dipper, the doe-bird, and the keen-eyed and 

 strong-winged loon. So also the younger class of these 

 water-shooters practice their boyish skill upon the queru- 

 lous little peep, the brown-back, ring-neck, et idomne 

 genus, not the least illustrious of which is that strange and 

 solitary bird, which the boys have baptised with a very 

 significant name, in allusion to its awkward habit of con- 

 tinually bobbing up and down, with the ill grace of a vil- 

 lage posture-master. 



There is, it must be acknowledged, a world of enjoyment 

 in pursuing these wanderers of the deep, from beach to 

 beach, or in invading the enemy on their own element, 

 by tossing about upon the rolling billow, in a mere shell, 



no bigger than a fairy's barge. There is something in the 

 very sound and sight of the great sea itself, — something 

 in the roar of the perpetual surge, in the flash of the 

 breaking billow, that leads the step with an irresistible 

 influence to its borders, and fills the mind with an engross- 

 ing charm, which no time or change can dissolve. When- 

 ever my foot presses that white and sandy floor, which is 

 washed by the clear billow of the sea, there is communi- 

 cated to my footstep the elasticity, to my body the vigour, 

 to my mind the joy and exhilaration of the free-born 

 Highlander, when his tartan is fluttering in the wild 

 breeze of his own mountain land, and his foot is on the 

 heather of its own native hills. As I enter upon that 

 bright and golden border, which seems to extend without 

 limit, along the edge of the ocean; as I glance upon the 

 multitudinous billows, which race up its shelving bosom, 

 and then with a musical ripple retire into their bed again; 

 as I gaze abroad upon the expanded main itself, crested 

 with uncounted billows, covered with a thousand passing 

 sails, and traversed by a thousand snowy pinions, I can- 

 not but feel an exultation which the world cannot give, 

 and which, for a time, the world cannot take away. 



Gentle reader, did you ever shoot a Peep? In all pro- 

 bability you will confess that your earliest essays with the 

 gun, were directed against that numerous and diminutive 

 species of game. Wherever there is a small patch of salt 

 marsh, or a little pool deserted bj' the tide, you are sure to 

 meet a detachment of some half-score of those winged 

 rovers, and if you will only tread lightly, you may slay 

 or make captive the whole party. If your fire destroys 

 but one-half, the remainder of the thoughtless creatures, 

 after revolving for a few moments in the air, and raising a 

 shrill scream of lamentation, will drop down into their for- 

 mer position, to look after their fellows, and tlius become 

 an easy prey to you. But the grown-up Sportsman, of 

 course, disdains to notice such pigmy pinions, but leaves 

 them to be picked off by the small birding piece of his 

 younger brother. We remember the day, when we toiled 

 mile after mile, over rock, bush, and briar, through mud, 

 and quaking quagmires, and yielding marshes, till the 

 evening came suddenly upon us in the midst of a dreary 

 desert, far distant from our home. We had taken but few 

 victims to console us for our fatigue. For they contrived 

 to bafile all our cunning, and whenever we had crept suffi- 

 ciently near for a shot, and when in the very act of kneel- 

 ing, that the execution might be the more destructive, 

 away they would all scamper, uttering in triumph their 

 provoking whistle. It is their habit to alight in a body, and 

 if the shooter fires instantly, and before they have had 

 time to disperse in pursuit of their food, the whole flock 

 may be disposed of at a shot. We availed ourself of seve- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



67 



ral such opportunities, but we had in our pouch nothing 

 but some enormous geese shot, which, to be sure, knocked 

 them about right and left, but caused them no farther 

 damage than the fright, for lo! they would all scramble up 



and make off with what 



they might. Here 

 poet to the little bird we 



agam. 



are some verses addressed by ; 



have spoken of. 



Thou little bird, thou dweller by the sea, 

 Why takest thou its melancholy voice ? 

 Why with that boding cry 

 O'er the waves dost thou fly"! 

 O, rather, bird, with me 

 Through the fair land rejoice ! 



Thy flitting form comes ghostly dim and pale, 

 As driven by a beating storm at sea; 

 Thy cry is weak and scared, 

 As if thy mates had shared, 

 The doom of us. Thy wail — 

 What does it bring to me 1 



Thou call'st along the sand, and haunt'st the surge, 

 Restless and sad ; as if, in strange accord 

 With motion and with roar 

 Of waves that drive to shore, 

 One spirit did ye urge — 

 The mystery — the Word, 



Of thousands thou, both sepulchre and pall, 

 Old Ocean art I A requiem o'er the dead, 

 From out thy gloomy cells, 

 A tale of mourning tells — 

 Tells of man's wo and fall, 

 His sinless glory fled. 



Then turn thee, little bird and take thy flight, 



Where the complaining sea shall sadness bring 

 Thy spirit never more. 

 Come quit with me the shore, 

 For gladness and the light. 

 Where birds of summer sing. 



The two most stately species of all the feathered tribe 

 which frequent our shores, are the Whooping Crane, and 

 the Great Heron. The former haunts immense sandy 

 flats, salt marshes, desolate swamps, and open morasses, in 

 the neighbourhood of the sea. We have seen them repeat- 

 edly on the sea-beach, stalking about in quest of the ma- 

 rine worms upon which they feed, or standing perfectly 

 motionless upon some black rock, watching patiently for 

 their prey. The former is a most melancholy and unsocial 

 creature, and resembles in its habits and life some mem- 

 bers of the human family, who separate themselves from 

 the companionship of their fellow-men, and consume their 

 existence in solitude and seclusion, among the unfrequented 

 hills. It is a very shy, and sharp-sighted bird, and the 



shooter is rarely allowed to approach it on the marsh, 

 within musket range. I have, however, at the edge of a 

 wet and misty evening, when the heavy shadows that fall 

 around, allow but a narrow horizon, stumbled unexpectedly 

 upon it, and killed it before it could take wing. It is a 

 clumsy bird, and rises with difficulty, and trailing its long 

 legs behind it, moves with a heavy and awkward flight. 

 After describing a few very broad circles in the air, and 

 reconnoitering the shores for many miles, it slowly alights 

 again, at a great distance from its pursuer. It utters at the 

 same time a clear and not unmusical cry, which may be 

 heard for a mile or more over the solitary marsh. The 

 Heron, though not uncommon with us, builds and breeds 

 only in the gloomy solitudes of the vast cedar and cypress 

 swamps of the South. Like the Crane, it stands like a 

 motionless sentinel on the sea-shore, or at the edge of a 

 pond or river, watchful for its prey, which it transfixes 

 with its powerful bill, with the speed and accuracy of an 

 arrow. It often follows up the course of creeks and rivers, 

 rioting upon the multitudes of fish, frogs, reptiles, and 

 insects, which swarm around their borders. This bird 

 though very timid, and easily alarmed, is, when wounded, 

 of a most obstinate and ferocious nature, and we would 

 caution all youthful gunners against approaching too near 

 at such times, for one blow of his spear-like bill, would 

 be "excessively disagreeable." A young sportsman once 

 persuaded a little cur dog which followed him, to attack 

 one of these birds which he had crippled, but Mr. Heron 

 so pegged away at poor Tray, that the latter was happy to 

 back out of the scrape vi^ith life. I once wounded and 

 brought to the ground an immense crow, which was soar- 

 ing over my head, and which a small cur animal who had 

 persisted in tagging behind me the whole day, seized upon 

 in an instant, but was glad to release again. Mr. Croaker 

 upon being assaulted in this rude manner, coolly flung it- 

 self upon its back, and fastening its long crooked claws in 

 the neck of the dog, hammered away upon his head, till 

 the animal was fairly bewildered. The beak of the bird had 

 nearly gouged his eyes from his head. The moment the 

 bird was released, he managed to raise himself from the 

 ground, and make off. I had a fair race for him, (my gun 

 having been discharged,) for a good half mile, without 

 gaining or losing a foot of ground, till at length he reached a 

 thick wood and escaped. I aimed several blows at him 

 with the breach of my gun, during the chase, all of which 

 he contrived to elude. 



Our own widely extended shore, indented with its broad 

 bays, inlets and creeks, abounds with a thousand varieties 

 of rare and beautiful water-fowl. Among these may be 

 enumerated the black or surf duck, the blue-winged teal, 

 the brant, occasionally the canvas-back duck, the golden- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



68 



eye, the gooseander, the green-winged teal, the harlequin 

 duck, the long-billed curlew, the richly coloured mallard, 

 the rare red-headed duck, the yellow-winged gadwale, the 

 diver or fisher duck, the dusky duck, the sooty tern, the 

 goose, and various species of plover. All these, and 

 others of equal beauty and delicacy, may be found by the 

 eager sportsman soaring around our shores, or by the no 

 less eager gourmand, smoking upon the boards of our 

 friends Boyden, Graham, Hunt, and Malfa. It is hard to 

 determine whether they are more delightful to the eye 

 when rocking on the rolling billow, traversing the empty 

 fields of air, or served up with pickles and oysters, flanked 



with a bottle or two of 's most particular, from the 



right binn in the cellar. But the true sportsman should be 

 able to look with a cold eye upon all such epicurean dain- 

 ties. An ounce of bread, and a cup of water, (dashed with 

 a sprinkling of the choicest Irish or Columbian,) should 

 content his simple palate. Let him adopt for a motto this 

 scrap from a beautiful ode of Horace. 



Premant Calena falce, quibus dedit 

 Fortuna vitem ; dives et aureis 



Mercator e.xsiccet culullis 

 Vina, Syra reparata merce, 

 Dis carus ipsis, quippe ter et quater 

 Anno revisens fequor Atlanticum 



Impune. Me pascunt Olivcc, 

 Me chichorea levesque Olivae. 

 Frui paratis et valido mihi, 

 Latoe, dones, et, precor, Integra 



Cum mente ; nee turpem senectam ^ 



Degere, nee cithara carentem. 



But since the days of the Latin bard, even the " Olivse" 

 have been esteemed by the capricious tastes of man as the 

 highest luxury, therefore the frugal sportsman may sub- 

 stitute for it whatever unsophisticated dish he pleases. 



M. 



From the London Sporting Magazine. 

 STANZAS TO MY HORSE. 



BY BULWER. 



Come forth, ray brave steed ! the sun shines on the vale, 

 And the morning is bearing its balm on the gale — 

 Come forth my brave steed, and brush off as we pass. 

 With the hoofs of thy speed, the bright dew from the grass. 



Let the lover go warble his strains to the fair — 

 I regard not his rapture, and heed not his care ; 

 But now, as we bound o'er the mountain and lea, 

 I will weave, my brave steed, a wild measure to thee. 



Away and away ! — I exult in the glow 

 Which is breathing its pride to my cheek as we go ; 

 And blithely my spirit springs forth — as the air 

 Which is waving the mane of thy dark flowing hair. 



Hail, thou gladness of heart ! and thou freshness of soul ! 

 Which have never come o'er me in pleasure's control — 

 Which the dance and the revel, the bowl and the board, 

 Tho' they tlushd, and they fever'd, could never afford. 



In the splendour of solitude speed we along. 

 Through the silence but broke by the wild linnet's song ; 

 Not a sight to the eye — not a sound to the ear— 

 To tell us that sin and that sorrow are near. 



Away — and away — and away then we pass. 

 The blind mole shall not hear thy light hoof on the grass: 

 And the time which is flying, whilst lam with thee. 

 Seems as swift as thyself— as we bound o'er the lea. 



THE LION AND THE BEAR. 



We were yesterday, (22d March,) informed that on 

 Tuesday last a Bear was taken to the Menagerie now ex- 

 hibiting in this city, and let down into the cage of an Afri- 

 can Lion, twenty-four years of age, with the belief that it 

 would be immediately torn to pieces. Many people assem- 

 bled under the awning which encompasses the exhibition 

 to witness the scene, but all were disappointed and struck 

 with astonishment; for although the Bear, so soon as he 

 had reached the bottom of the cage, placed himself in a 

 fighting position, and once or twice flew at the Lion, with 

 the apparent intention of commencing the battle, the Lion 

 did not attempt to injure it, but on the contrar}^, after 

 some time had elapsed, placed his paw on the Bear's head 

 as if to express its pity for its helpless situation, and 

 evinced every disposition to cultivate friendship. 



Having heard and read much of the Lion's nobleness of 

 disposition, and understanding that the Bear was still in 

 the cage, prompted by curiosity, we visited the Menagerie 

 this morning, and actually saw them together. The mana- 

 ger of the Lion tells us that since the Bear has been put 

 into the cage no person has dared to approach it, and that 

 the Lion had not slept for three hours, but continues con- 

 stantly awalie to guard his weaker companion from dan- 

 ger. The Lion, sa3-s the manager, suffers the Bear to eat 

 of whatever is thrown into the cage until he has enough, 

 but will scarcely touch food himself. 



During the time that we remained, the Lion once or 

 twice walked to the end of the cage opposite to that at 

 which the Bear was lying, and some person motioned 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



69 



his hand towards the Bear, but so soon as the Lion saw it, 

 he sprang to the Bear, and liept liis head resting over it 

 for some time: he has so fatigued himself with watching, 

 that as soon as he lies down he falls asleep, but awakens 

 again at the first noise that is made, and springs to the 

 object of his care. 



This seems to us astonishing indeed, and will no doubt 

 attract the notice of naturalists. — N. Orleans Emporium. 



INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN. 



No. II. 



Having now gone through the necessary requirements 

 1o familiarize yourself with your gun, as laid down in my 

 instructions. No. I. you may enter the field in search of 

 t^ame; but before we prosecute our excursion, it will be 

 necessary here to make some remarks on your dress, 

 accoutrements, manner of loading, and ammunition. 



In these respects I differ, more or less, from most 

 authors, especially English writers, who in the articles of 

 dress recommend shoes, gaiters, and hunting coats with 

 large pockets. As the latter are worn and recommended 

 by many Sportsmen, I will analyze some of their proper- 

 ties, and see whether there is any thing else to recommend 

 them, but because they are styled hunting coats, and 

 others loear them. This description of coat, from the im- 

 mense size of the pockets, is intended to supersede a game- 

 bag; — my objections to it are, the size of the coat, the 

 inconvenience of the large pockets, and the slovenly ap- 

 pearance of the wearer. 



This country so abounds with thickets, and other places 

 difficult of access under the best circumstances, in which 

 game always seek refuge, that a superfluity of clothing 

 should be avoided. Then it will be found that the huge 

 pockets, (more like saddle-bags,) will, if filled with game, 

 hang dangling about your knees, and retard your pro- 

 gress much, — or, should the high grass or bushes be wet, 

 from rain or dew, the intolerable chafing of the thighs 

 consequent to this unwieldy coat, will render it a grie- 

 vous burden, all of which might be avoided by a more 

 tidy and compact dress. English Sportsmen may adopt 

 the usages of their own country, while residing among us, 

 as it respects the sporting materiel; but in regard to 

 myself, I would wear and recommend to others, the follow- 

 ing: — Boots and pantaloons, and roundabout jacket with 

 standing collar, made of some strong fabric suitable to 

 the season, and a cap. The accoutrements necessary are 

 a game-bag, powder-flask of Sykes' patent, to contain half 

 S 



a pound, and a single shot-bag, with spiral spring charge, 

 to contain four pounds of shot — this, in all conscience, is, 

 or ought to be, sufficient for one day's hunt. A man who 

 would shoot more than four pounds of shot in one day 

 at the ordinary ground game, does not deserve the name of 

 Sportsman; this quantity will make fifty charges, and if a 

 greater number than this is used at game, the shooter must 

 either kill an undue proportion, or miss so frequently, as 

 to make him unworthy of the title; for I hold it as a prin- 

 ciple, that no one who is desirous of being considered a 

 man of feeling, sliould kill more game than may be used 

 for the table, — and him who does not kill once out of every 

 two shots he makes, falls far short of that, which in my 

 view, constitutes a Sportsman. It is not to be understood, 

 that I am now speaking of the learner; it is expected that 

 he will miss, and that very often, but I wish to impress on 

 his mind how far he may go, and in what proficiency he 

 may consider himself a Sportsman. 



The advantages of the dress which I recommend, are 

 its compactness, so as not to interfere with other ob- 

 jects — the comfort, greater neatness, and sportsmanlike 

 appearance of the wearer; and when he wishes either 

 to rest himself, or partake of refreshment in the house 

 or field, he can divest himself of the game-bag and other 

 articles, and thus be released of a tiresome load at once, 

 and thereby feel light and airy; but him that wears a 

 hunting coat cuts at all times the same ludicrous figure, 

 with his huge pockets filled, and the only plan remains 

 for him is, either to take ofi" his coat, or the game from 

 his pockets, which is not always practicable or convenient. 

 Again, look at the two persons in the field, — the former ap- 

 pears like a Sportsman, and his errand cannot be mistaken; 

 while the other looks sneaking, and as though other arti- 

 cles might be stowed away, in his capacious wallets, besides 

 game. These hunting coats savour strongly of having had 

 their origin with Poachers. 



I will now suppose you are pressing your way to the 

 fields, the first of which you enter; call in your dogs, 

 and bring them to the <'down charge," and then com- 

 mence loading your gun. Previous to this, however, 

 it will be well to discharge a cap on each tube, in order to 

 clear them or the chambers from any dirt, or other sub- 

 stance which may have lodged there; this is all-sufficient, 

 and prevents the necessity of discharging a load of pow- 

 der, or as many call it, " squibbing off your gun." When 

 you load, gripe the gun with your left hand about the top- 

 most thimble, and hold the muzzle from you eight or ten 

 inches, then with your right hand pour the powder first in 

 the off barrel, after which the near one, and then take 

 from your right pocket the wadding, which settle down on 

 the powder firm, but not too hard. Your wadding should 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



be punched from bonnet-boards, and pierced with a small 

 hole in each wad, in order to let all air pass through 

 which may be confined between the wadding and powder. 

 Your shot, also, take from the bag with the right hand, 

 which may easily be done, by letting the charger hang 

 downwards, observing the same plan of loading as with the 

 powder. The main object of recommending one particular 

 barrel to be charged first, is to habituate yourself to a 

 regular system, which will prevent mistakes, and the off, 

 or right barrel, is the one most usually fired, when only 

 one is discharged. In no instance relax your hold of the 

 gun with the left hand while loading, and by all means 

 avoid hugging the gun as some do, while getting the shot 

 from the bag; — one mistake may be fatal to yourself. 



Beware of an error, too often followed by most begin- 

 ners, and that is, of overcharging your gun; this is a mis- 

 take which many split on, and one-half of the wounding or 

 missing the game altogether, may be justly attributed to it. 

 If you have a gun of ll-16ths calibre, one drachm of 

 powder, and one and a quarter ounces of shot is sufficient. 

 I would advise you never to exceed this charge, but rather 

 diminish the quantity; this will be found to be a fair pro- 

 portion, as that quantity of powder will drive the whole 

 or greater part of the shot to the object aimed at, with 

 effect; whereas, if a greater charge of shot should be used, 

 it is evident, that it will not only resist the action of the 

 powder in proportion as the quantum of shot is increased, 

 but also by greater friction along the barrels, in consequence 

 of this accumulated weight, and the result will be, numbers 

 will fall short of the object, and the gun, by reason of the 

 crowded state of the shot, be necessarily leaded, besides 

 the certainty of suffering from the reaction of the gun, and 

 the bad result of making the shot scatter too much. What- 

 ever quantity, however, you determine on, either in shot 

 or powder, so regulate the respective charges of the flask 

 and shot-bag, that no deviation may take place, but the 

 same proportions always fired; a slight alteration in either 

 of these, may materially interfere with your success. 



If I had to make choice of a gun from the manner in 

 which it planted the shot in a target, it would be that one 

 which threw the shot not only regular but close; but no 

 gun, if overloaded, will do this — hence the necessity of 

 avoiding any cause which prevents this desirable end. 



An ounce of No. S shot is said to contain 660 pellets, 

 and my experience warrants me to aver, in most cases, that 

 at a distance of thirty 5'ards, as many pellets will be found 

 in a target fired at with an ounce, as if by one and a half 

 ounces of shot from the same gun and quantity of pow- 

 der — consequently the folly of using more shot than a 

 gun will drive home with certainty. Using light charges 

 has also another great advantage, which is, not to affect the 



head in the manner which heavy charges do, if fired con- 

 stantly on a warm day — therefore, mj' young friend, try 

 a lesser quantity first, and if it does not prove satisfactory, 

 increase your charge to or beyond my limits. 



Another very important thing to the Sportsman, is the 

 quality of the powder, and size of the shot, — of the for- 

 mer, there are but three kinds which may be said to have 

 prevalence for sporting purposes in the United States. 

 These are, Pigous' & Wilks, (London powder,) Dupont's 

 Eagle powder, manufactured near Wilmington, in Delaware, 

 and Rogers' Orange powder, made at Newburgh, New- 

 York; the two former kinds I have always used, and for 

 most purposes I would give preference to that made by 

 Mr. Dupont; it is strong, clean, quick, and being much 

 cheaper than the former, it certainly possesses great advan- 

 tages. The manufacture of this powder certainly does 

 great credit to the enterprising gentleman whose name it 

 bears, as well as to the country; and it was not, until great 

 perseverance on his part established it on so good a cha- 

 racter, that we could depend with certainty on any powder 

 manufactured in the United States. These facts should at 

 once determine its use among Sportsmen, independent of 

 encouraging an article of domestic manufacture. Ano- 

 ther circumstance much in favour of the Eagle powder, is, 

 the undeviating quality in the component parts; nor does it 

 seem to be impaired by age, as one of the best canisters 

 of this description I ever used, was one, which had been 

 on ship-board, traversing the ocean many thousand miles, 

 for a space of fifteen months. Pigous' & Wilks powder 

 is the most celebrated in England, and is also very exten- 

 sively used here. I have never tried the Orange powder, 

 but have been told by the New-York Sportsmen, that it is 

 of most excellent quality, and preferred by them to any sold 

 in that market. I shall, however, speak more particularly 

 on the merits of these different kinds of powder at some 

 future day, as I shall test their qualities with much care. 



A very common fault with many Sportsmen, is that of 

 using shot too large. I have, generally, been very success- 

 ful in my excursions, and al\^ays confined myself to No. 9, 

 for woodcock and snipe, ahd No. S, for partridges, (or 

 quail) — this, I am aware, is two numbers smaller than 

 many Sportsmen use, and one size smaller than the majority 

 shoot, but, as my precepts are warranted by experience, 

 I certainly i-ecommcnd the learner to try those sizes. 



I recollect the most pleasant day's shooting I ever had, 

 (and withal successful,) was in consequence of having, in the 

 early part of the day, lost my shot, the charger having been 

 drawn while passing through a thicket, and I did not make 

 the discovery until my bag was nearly emptj'-. Game was 

 in abundance, and my excursion was confined to a spot in 

 the great valley in Chester county, Pa. ; and I could not 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



replace my loss only by sending several miles to a store, 

 and then my choice was limited to the sizes Nos. 4 and 

 11. I however chose the latter size, and purchased the 

 whole stock, which was but little over three pounds. Thus 

 scantily supplied in a region which abounded in game, I 

 restricted my charges to rather less than one ounce, with a 

 proportionate quantity of powder, and even thus reduced, I 

 found that I not only killed my birds at as long distances, 

 but with greater certainty than with No. 7 — the size I had 

 been using previously. This determined me in my fu- 

 ture charges and size of the shot. I doubt, however, of 

 my success, if the day had been very windy, as the shot 

 was so exceedingly small, that the sudden blasts of wind 

 which occur duringthat month, (December,) would entirely 

 have diverted the shot from a right line : but not so with 

 No. S, as I have invariably used that size during the most 

 windy weather, with efiect. Success in killing the kind 

 of game I am now speaking of, or indeed any kind of 

 game whatever, is not attributable so much to the size, as 

 tlie multiplicity of the shot thrown at it; the chances of 

 killing multiply very fast after you pass No. 7 shot — for 

 instance, an ounce of No. 7 contains but 289 pellets, 

 while an ounce of No. S contains 660 pellets, by which it 

 will appear that in augmenting the size only one number, 

 your chances of striking the object aimed at are increased 

 upwards of one hundred per cent.; or in other words, 

 it will require two and an eighth ounces of No. 7 shot 

 to give an equal number of chances with No. 8; by this, it 

 must certainly appear that great advantages are on the 

 side of finer shot than is ordinarily used. Again, an 

 object twenty-five or thirty yards distant, will be struck 

 sooner by fine than by coarse shot, although the latter 

 may be driven with greater force; beyond this distance, 

 however, coarse shot has the advantage. If, then, at 

 the distance of thirty yards, small shot is driven with 

 more velocity than coarser shot, and yet possess sufficient 

 power to destroy the game shot at, my position is good, and 

 fine shot in preference to coarse should be adopted. The 

 argument which many use in favour of large shot, " that 

 one frequently encounters larger game, such as Pheasants, 

 &c." need be of no avail. The most effective and best 

 shots I ever made were at Pheasants, with No. 8 shot; 

 however, let the learner try the experiment, and if he 

 does not find my advice correct, he can abandon it. I. 



services as sharp-shooters, in the late war, wei'e rewarded 

 with the temporary liberty of hunting with impunity. The 

 value of this liberty can only be estimated by those who 

 know the passion of the Tyrolese for the chase, a passion 

 more violent than that of the gamester. Neither threats nor 

 punishment can deter them from the pursuit of it. Gain is 

 not the object, as the Chamois, flesh and skin, does not 

 sell for above ten or twelve florins; and 3-et a man who had 

 been many times caught 'in the fact, declared, that if he 

 knew the next tree would be his gallows, he would never- 

 theless hunt. M. de Saussure records an interesting anec- 

 dote of a Chamois hunter whom he knew; he was a tall, 

 well-made man, and had just married a beautiful woman: — 

 "My grandfather (said he) lost his life in the chase, and 

 so did my father, and I am so well assured that one day 

 or other I shall also lose mine, that this bag, which I always 

 carry with me in the hunt, I call my winding-sheet, for I 

 shall certainly never have any other; nevertheless, sir, if 

 you were to offer me a fortune immediately, on condition 

 that I must relinquish the chase, I would not accept it." 

 De Saussure says, that he took several excursions among 

 the Alps with this man; his strength and agility were as- 

 tonishing, but his courage, or rather his temerity, still 

 greater than either. About two years afterwards his foot 

 slipped on the edge of a precipice, and he met the fate 

 which he had so calmly contemplated. 



[Sjjo7-fs?nan's Cyclopedia. 



CHAMOIS HUNTERS. 



The Tyrolese are perhaps the most persevering hunters 

 in the world, and seem to despise all danger in their favour- 

 ite pursuit. They are such admirable marksmen that their 



BEAR HUNTING. 



The Bridgeton (N. J.) Whig contains an account of a 

 grand " Bear Hunt," had in Cape May county on the 

 17th of April. JNIr. Joshua Stiles discovered a Bear track 

 leading from the bay to the sea side. He gave notice, and 

 a company formed, and tracked Bruin into a swamp, 

 where they found that he had breakfasted on a sheep. 

 The next morning search was resumed, with one good dog. 

 He immediately took the track, and dragged it through 

 the swamp, and over the main road leading from Cape May 

 Court House to Dennis Creek, and intoa swamp to the north- 

 ward of said road, where he started Bruin. The Bear 

 not being in the swamp where the men expected to find 

 him, they were, in consequence, thrown into confusion 

 and disorder, running in all directions to keep in with the 

 dog. A man who was carting cord wood, saw the Bear 

 cross the road, and the dog behind, snapping him. The 

 Bear, steering his course northwardly, ran out of hearing 

 of the men, but the dog pursued him so closely, snapping 




72 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



him, that finally he treed on a large oak, in the high woods 

 north of Crooked Creek Swamp. Three of the company 

 soon came within hearing of the dog, and made all possible 

 speed to get in with him. On coming up they found the 

 Bear sitting on a large limb of the tree, looking down at 

 them, grinning and showing his long teeth, as though he 

 bade them defiance. He did not appear to take any notice 

 of the dog after the three men came up. Two of the men 

 agreed to shoot him on the left side, with a view of reach- 

 ing his heart. Each of them taking deliberate aim, they 

 fired, and the third man, who had reserved his fire until 

 the Bear had changed his position, fired also. The Bear 

 let go his hold, and fell from the tree, a distance of about 

 thirty feet. Notwithstanding the height from which he 

 fell, he jumped up on his feet, and ran, with the dog fast to 

 him, about a hundred yards. This was his final feat. There, 

 after his noble breakfast of mutton, he fell, yielding to 

 the more powerful influence of powder and ball. The 

 remainder of the party kept coming in. A firing was kept 

 up, so that all were soon there. Wagons were brought 

 from different directions, and many persons round about, 

 who heard the firing of the guns, assembled at the place. 

 The body of Bruin was placed in one of the wagons, and 

 the others followed in the rear. The company came into 

 the neighbourhood of the Court House in military order, 

 under the command of Captain Jonathan Hand. The Bear 

 was taken to Mr. Nathaniel Holmes' barn, and dressed. 

 He measured seven feet in length, and old men in the 

 place, who had seen Bears, said this was the largest one 

 they had ever seen. 



water, evaporated and weighed. A minute loss of salts 

 may be counted on from its known volatility, with boiling 

 water. I have evaporated always on a steam bath. It is 

 probable that a small proportion of the lighter and looser 

 constituents of Gunpowder, the carbon, flies off in the ope- 

 ration of corning and dusting. Hence analysis may show 

 a small deficit of charcoal below the synthetic proportions 

 originally mixed. The residuum of charcoal and sulphur 

 left on the double filter paper, being well dried by the heat 

 of ordinary steam, is estimated as usual by the difference of 

 weights of the inner and outer papers. This residuum is 

 cleared off into a platina capsule with a tooth brush, and 

 digested in a dilute solution of potash at a boiling tempera- 

 ture. Three parts of potash are fully sufficient to dissolve 

 out one of the sulphur. When the above solution is 

 thrown on a filter, and washed first with a very dilute so- 

 lution of potash boiling hot, then with boiling water, and 

 afterwards dried, the carbon will remain; the weight of 

 which deducted from that of the Powder, will show the 

 amount of sulphur." 



" If we acquire," says Dr. Ure, " how the maximum gas- 

 eous volume is to be produced from the chemical reaction 

 of the elements of nitre on charcoal and sulphur, we shall 

 find it to be by the generation of carbonic oxide and sulphu- 

 reous acid, with the disengagement of nitrogen. This will 

 lead us to the following proportions of these constituents: 



COMPOSITION OF GUNPOWDER. 



Dr. Ure has analyzed various samples of Gunpowder, 

 and the following are the results of his investigation: 



Waltham Abbey — nitre, 74.5; charcoal, 14.4; sulphur, 

 10; water, 1.1. 



Hall, Dartford — nitre, 76.2; charcoal, 14.; sulphur, 

 9.0; water, .5; loss, .3. 



Pigou & Wilkes — nitre, 77.4; charcoal, 13.5; sulphur, 

 8.5; water, .6. 



Curtis & Harvey — nitre, 76.7; charcoal, 12.5; sulphur, 

 9. ; water, 1.1; loss, .7. 



Battle Gunpowder — nitre, 77.; charcoal, 13.5; sulphur, 

 .8.; water, .8; loss, 7. 



"The process," observes Dr. Ure, " most commonly 

 practised in the analysis of Gunpowder, seems to be tolera- 

 bly exact. The nitre is first separated by hot distilled 



136 100.00 



The (acid of the) nitre contains five primes of oxygen, of 

 which three, combining with the three of charcoal, will 

 furnish three of carbonic acid gas, while the remaining two 

 will convert the one prime of sulphur into sulphureous 

 acid gas. The single prime of nitrogen is, in this view, 

 disengaged alone. 



The gaseous volume, on this supposition, evolved from 

 136 grains of Gunpowder, equivalent in bulk to 75 grains 

 of water, or three-tenths of a cubic inch, will be, at the 

 atmospheric temperature as follows: 



Grains. Cubic inches. 



Carbonic oxide, - 42 - - 141.6 



Sulphurous acid - 32 - - 47.2 



Nitrogen - - - 14 - - 47.4 



Being an expansion of one volume into 787. 3. But as the 

 temperature of the gases at the instant of their combustive 

 formation must be incanescent, this volume may be safely 

 estimated at three times the above amount, or considerably 

 upwards of two thousand times the bulk of the explosive 

 solid." — Phil. Mag. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



73 



THE RACCOON. 



PROCYON LOTOR. 



[Plate VII. Vol. 2.] 



Ursits Lotor; Lin. Erxl. Bodd. — Vulpes Americana; 

 Charleton. — Le Raton; Buff. Hist. Nat. 8, pi. 43. 

 — Procyon Lotor; Cuv. Reg. An. p. 143. Sabine app. 

 p. 649. — Coati Brasiliensium; Klein. — Mapach, etc. 

 Mexicanoruni. — Menagerie of Living Animals, ex- 

 hibited in Philadelphia, winter of 1831-2. 



There are few parts of the American continent in 

 which the Raccoon has not, at some period, been found 

 native, from the borders of Nootka Sound, to the forests 

 of Mexico, and still more southern regions. Yet the 

 Count de Buffon asserts, that this animal was originally 

 from South America, and is most numerous in hot climates, 

 without giving any fact on which his opinion is founded, 

 or supporting his declaration b)"^ the observations of other 

 naturalists. Sonnini properly observes, that neither Fre- 

 zier, UUoa, nor Molina, who have given descriptions of 

 the animals of Peru, Brazil, and Chili, make any mention 

 of the Raccoon; and, in his own long and numerous jour- 

 neys in Guiana, he never found one among the great num- 

 ber of quadrupeds which hold undisturbed possession of 

 the vast forests, by which that interesting region is over- 

 shadowed. 



But the most positive proofs of their existence, in the 

 northern parts of this continent, are to be found in the jour- 

 nals of the most respectable observers. By Dampier, they 

 were seen near the southern point of California, in the 

 22° of N. latitude; Bartram found them on the isle of St. 

 Simon, near the coast of Georgia, in 30° of N. latitude; 

 and the celebrated Capt. Cook saw them in considerable 

 numbers at Nootka and Prince William's Sound. Most 

 probably, had this enterprising voyager landed still far- 

 ther north, he would have discovered the Raccoon there, 

 as the natives of Prince William's Sound were, in a great 

 degree, clothed with skins of this animal. 



Were we to form an opinion of this animal's character 

 solely from external appearances, the mingled expression of 

 sagacity and innocence exhibited in his aspect, his personal 

 neatness and gentle movements, might all incline us to 

 believe that he possessed a guileless and placable disposi- 

 tion. But in this, as in most other cases where judg- 

 ments are formed without sufBcient examination, we should 

 be in error, and find, that to the capricious mischievous- 

 ness of the mpnkey, the Raccoon adds a blood-thirsty and 

 vindictive spirit peculiarly his own. In the wild state, 

 T 



this sanguinary appetite frequently leads to his own de- 

 struction, which his nocturnal habits might otherwise 

 avert; but as he slaughters the tenants of the poultry-yard 

 with indiscriminate ferocity, the vengeance of the plun- 

 dered farmer speedily retaliates on him the death so libe- 

 rally dealt among the feathered victims. This destructive 

 propensity of the Raccoon is more remarkable, when we 

 observe that his teeth are not unsuited for eating fruits. 

 When he destroys wild or domesticated birds, he puts to 

 death a great number, without consuming any part of them, 

 except the head, or the blood which is sucked from the 

 neck. 



Being peculiarly fond of sweet substances, the Raccoon 

 is occasionally very destructive to plantations of sugar- 

 cane,* and of Indian corn. While the ear of the Indian 

 corn is still young, soft and tender, or "in the milk," it 

 is very sweet, and is then eagei'ly sought by the Raccoons; 

 troops of them frequently enter fields of maize, and in one 

 night commit extensive depredations, both by the quan- 

 tity of grain they consume, and from the number of stalks 

 they break down by their weight. 



The Raccoon is an excellent climber, and his strong 

 sharp claws effectually secure him from being shaken off 

 ■the branches of trees. In fact, so tenaciously does this 

 animal hold to any surface upon which it can make an 

 impression with its claws, that it requires a considerable 

 exertion of a man's strength to drag him off; and as long 

 as even a single foot remains attached, he continues to 

 cling with great force. I have had frequent occasion to 

 pull a Raccoon from the top of a board-fence, where there 

 was no projection which he could seize by; yet, such was 

 the power and obstinacy with which the points of his claws 

 were stuck into the board, as repeatedly to oblige me to 

 desist for fear of tearing his skin, or otherwise doing him 

 injury by the violence necessary to detach his hold. 



The conical form of the head, and the very pointed and 

 flexible character of the muzzle or snout, are of great im- 

 portance in aiding the Raccoon to examine every vacuity 

 and crevice to which he gains access, nor does he neglect 

 any opportunity of his natural advantages, but explores 

 every nook and cranny, with the most persevering dili- 

 gence and attention, greedily feeding on spiders, worms, 

 or other insects which are discovered by the scrutiny. 

 Where the opening is too small to give admittance to his 

 nose, he employs his fore-paws, and shifts his position, or 

 turns his paws sidewise, in order to facilitate their intro- 

 duction and effect his purpose. This disposition to feed 

 on the grubs or larvae of insects must render this animal 

 of considerable utility in forest lands, in consequence of 



* Sir Hans Sloane ; Natural History of Jamaica. 




74 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



the great numbers of injurious and destructive insects he 

 consumes. He is also said to catch frogs with considera- 

 ble address, by slily creeping up, and then springing on 

 them, so as to grasp them with both paws. 



The circumstance which has procured for the Raccoon 

 the specific name of '■'■ Lotor" or the Washer, is very 

 remarkable and interesting: this is, the habit of plunging 

 its food into water, as if for the purpose of soaking 

 or cleansing it. To account for this disposition, some 

 naturalists have supposed that the Raccoon is not as libe- 

 rally supplied with salivary organs as other animals, and 

 is therefore obliged to prepare its food by softening it in 

 water. The Raccoon, however, does not invariably wait 

 to subject his food to this preparation, but frequently 

 devours it in the condition he receives it, although it may 

 be nothing but dry bread, and clean water be within a 

 few steps of where he stands. 



Water seems to be essential to their comfort, if not of 

 absolute necessity for the preparation of their food. I 

 have had for some time, and at the moment of writing 

 this have yet, a male and female Raccoon in the yard. 

 Their greatest delight appears to be dabbling in water, of 

 which a large tub is always kept nearly full for their use. 

 They are frequently seen sitting on the edge of this tub, 

 very busily engaged in playing with a piece of broken 

 china, glass, or a small cake of ice. When they have any 

 substance which sinks, they both paddle with their fore- 

 feet with great eagerness, until it is caught, and then it is 

 held by one, with both paws, and rubbed between them; 

 or a struggle ensues for the possession of it, and when it 

 is dropped the same sport is renewed. The coldest wea- 

 ther in winter does not in the least deter them from thus 

 dabbling in the water for amusement; nor has this action 

 much reference to their feeding, as it is performed at any 

 time, even directly after feeding, till satiated. I have 

 frequently broken the ice on the surface of their tub, late 

 at night, in the very coldest winter weather, and they have 

 both left their sleeping place with much alacrity, to stand 

 paddling the fragments of ice about, with their fore-legs in 

 the water nearly up to the breast. Indeed, these animals 

 have never evinced the slightest dislike to cold, or suffered 

 in any degree therefrom: they have in all weathers slept 

 in a flour-barrel thrown on its side, with one end entirely 

 open, and without any material of which to make a bed. 

 They show no repugnance to being sprinkled or dashed 

 with water, and voluntarily remain exposed to the rain or 

 snow, which wets them thoroughly, notwithstanding their 

 long hair, which being almost erect, is not well suited to 

 turn the rain. These Raccoons are very fond of each 

 other, and express the greatest delight on meeting after 

 having been separated for a short time, by various move- 



ments, and by hugging and rolling one another about on 

 the ground. 



My Raccoons are, at the time of writing this, more than 

 a year old, and have been in captivity for six or eight 

 months. They are very frolicsome and amusing, and 

 show no disposition to bite or injure any one, except when 

 accidentally trodden on. They are equally free from any 

 disposition to injure children, as has been observed of 

 other individuals. We frequently turn them loose in the 

 parlour, and they appear to be highly delighted, romping 

 with each other and the children, without doing any injury 

 even to the youngest. Their alleged disposition to hurt chil- 

 dren especially, may probably be fairly explained by the fact 

 above mentioned, that they always attempt to bite when 

 suddenly hurt, and few children touch animals without 

 pinching or hurting them. They exhibit this spirit of re- 

 taliation, not only to man, but when they accidentally hurt 

 themselves against an inanimate body; I have many times 

 been amused to observe the expression of spite with which 

 one of them has sprung at and bit the leg of a chair or 

 table, after knocking himself against it so as to hurt some 

 part of his body. 



These animals may be tamed while young, but as they 

 grow to maturity, most generally become fierce and even 

 dangerous. I have had one so tame as to follow a servant 

 about through the house or streets, though entirely at 

 liberty; this was quite young when obtained, and grew so 

 fond of human society as to complain very loudly, by a 

 sort of chirping or whining noise, when left alone. Nothing 

 can possibly exceed the domesticated Raccoon in restless 

 and mischievous curiosity, if suffered to go about the house. 

 Every chink is ransacked, every article of furniture ex- 

 plored, and the neglect of servants to secure the closet- 

 doors, is sure to be followed by extensive mischief, the 

 evil being almost uniformly augmented by the alarm 

 caused to the author of it, whose ill-directed efforts to 

 escape from supposed peril, increase at the same time the 

 noise and the destruction. 



To complete the history of the Raccoon in a state of 

 captivity, we shall insert here the greater part of a letter 

 written by Mr. Blanquart de Salines to Count de Buffon, 

 on the correctness of which full reliance may be placed. 



<' My Raccoon was always kept chained before he came 

 into my possession, and in this captivity he seemed suffi- 

 ciently gentle, though not caressing; all the inmates of the 

 house paid him the same attention, but he received them 

 differently; treatment he would submit to from one person, 

 invariably offended him when offered by another. When 

 his chain was occasionally broken, liberty rendered him 

 insolent; he took possession of his apartment, suffering no 

 one to approach him, and was, with difficulty, again con- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



fined. During his stay with me, his confinement was fre- 

 quently suspended; without losing sight of him, I allowed 

 him to walk about with his chain on, and he expressed his 

 gratitude by various movements. It was otherwise when 

 he escaped by his own efibrts: he would then ramble for 

 three or four days together over tlie neighbouring roofs, 

 and only descend at night into the yards, enter the hen- 

 roosts and destroy the poultry, especially the Guinea- 

 fowls, eating nothing but their heads. His chain did not 

 render him less sanguinary, though it made him more cir- 

 cumspect; he then employed stratagem, allowing the 

 poultry to familiarize themselves with him by partaking 

 of his food, nor was it until he had induced them to 

 feel in perfect security that he would seize a fowl and 

 tear it to pieces: he also killed kittens in the same man- 

 ner. 



"If the Raccoon be not very grateful for favours re- 

 ceived, he is singularly sensible of bad treatment; a ser- 

 vant one day struck him some blows with a stick, and 

 often afterwards vainly endeavoured to conciliate him, by 

 offering eggs and shrimps, of which the animal was very 

 fond. At the approach of this servant he became enraged, 

 and with sparkling eyes would spring towards him, mak- 

 ing violent outcries; under such circumstances he would 

 accept of nothing until his enemy had withdrawn. The 

 voice of the Raccoon, when enraged, is very singular, 

 sometimes resembling the whistling of a curlew, and at 

 others the hoarse barking of an old dog. When struck 

 by any one, or attacked by an animal stronger than him- 

 self, he offered no resistance; like the hedge-hog, he hid 

 his head and paws, by rolling his body in form of a ball, 

 and would have suffered death in that position. I have 

 observed that he never left hay nor straw in his bed, pre- 

 ferring to sleep on the boards; when litter was given, he 

 threw it away immediately. He did not seem very sen- 

 sible to cold, and passed two out of three winters exposed 

 to all the rigours of the season, and did well, notwith- 

 standing he was frequently covered with snow. I do not 

 think he was solicitous to receive warmth; during some 

 frosts I gave him separately warm water, and water almost 

 frozen, to soak his food in, and he always preferred the 

 latter. He was at liberty to sleep in the stable, but often 

 preferred passing the night in the open yard." 



Captivity and domestication produce great changes in 

 the habits of this animal, as he learns to spend nearly the 

 whole of the daytime in active exercise, and sleeps during 

 the greater part of the night. When inclined to sleep, 

 the Raccoon forms itself into a sort of ball, by sitting on 

 its hind legs, and doubling the head under the body, so as 

 to apply the forehead to the ground; the tail is then 

 brought forward so as to conceal the feet and face on one 



side, and the true figure of the animal is no longer dis- 

 cernible. In this position the Raccoon sleeps profoundly, 

 and is not startled readily, nor by slight sounds. 



The size of the Raccoon varies with the age and sex of 

 the individual. A full grown male may be stated to have 

 the body a foot, or a few inches more, in length; the high- 

 est part of the back is about a foot from the ground, while 

 the highest part of the shoulder is ten inches. The head 

 is about five, and the tail rather more than eight inches 

 long. The female is larger than the male in every respect, 

 at least such is the fact in relation to the Raccoons now in 

 my possession, which, however, have not yet attained 

 their full growth. They are of the same age, and the fe- 

 male is strongly distinguished from the male by the black 

 markings on all parts of the body being more purely black, 

 and the fur and hair longer, thicker, and more glossy than 

 that of the male; these peculiarities, in addition to her 

 greater size, uniformly lead strangers to suppose this indi- 

 vidual to be the male, instead of the female. The pelage 

 of the male is not only less purely black at the extremities 

 of the hairs, but there is a much greater intermixture of 

 fawn-coloured hair than in the female, giving more of a 

 rusty appearance to the whole surface of his body. A 

 young Raccoon of thirty days old, is about the size of a 

 common cat of a year old, though the greater length of 

 its legs, and the bushiness of i^g pelage, make it at first 

 sight appear much larger. 



The general colour of the body is a blackish-gray, which 

 is paler on the under part of the body, and has, over consi- 

 derable part of the neck, back and sides, some fawn or 

 light rust-coloured hair intermixed. The general gray 

 colour is owing to the manner in which the hairs are alter- 

 nately ringed with black and dingy white. The tail is 

 very thickly covered with hair, and is marked by five 

 or six black rings around it, on a yellowish-white 

 ground. 



The head, which is about five inches long, is very tri- 

 angular, and from its pointed snout reminds us of the aspect 

 of the fox: the snout terminates in a smooth and shining 

 black membrane, through which the nostrils open, having 

 the slit to rise slightly at the sides. The nose is pro- 

 longed considerably beyond the upper jaw, and this, toge- 

 ther with its great flexibility, gives the animal great 

 advantages in exploring little crevices and crannies for 

 insects, &c. The pupils of the eyes are round; the ears are 

 oval, or rather elliptic, and of a yellowish-white colour on 

 their extremities and anterior edges. The face is whitish 

 in front, but there is a black patch surrounding the eye, 

 that descends entirely to the lower jaw, over the posterior 

 part of which it is diffused, and a black line running from 

 the top of the head down the middle of the face, ending 




76 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



below the eyes. The rest of the hair between the eyes, 

 the ears, and eye-brows, is ahiiost entirely white, and di- 

 rected downwards. The hair on the muzzle is usually 

 very short; on the feet also, and on one half of the legs; 

 the short hair of the feet and legs is of a dirty whitish 

 colour. The whiskers on the upper lip are long and 

 strong. 



All the feet have five toes each, terminated by strong 

 curved and pointed claws; and each foot is furnished 

 with five thick and very elastic tubercles beneath. The 

 first toe or thumb of the fore-foot is the shortest of all; the 

 little or external finger is next in length, and then the fore 

 finger: the remaining two are equal. The first tubercle, 

 which is a very strong one, is situated near the wrist; the 

 second is at the base of the little finger; the third at the 

 root of the inner finger or thumb; the fourth opposite the 

 second digit, and the fifth opposite the two longest. The 

 hind-feet are throughout similar, except that the first tuber- 

 cle is farthest distant from the heel. 



The Raccoon has a gland on each side of the anus, which 

 secretes a strong scented fluid; but this does not impart an 

 unpleasant smell to the animal. Its liver has five lobes, 

 and is provided with a large gall-bladder; the bowels have 

 no coecum, and the stomach, which is situated entirely on 

 the left side, is elongated and small, compared with the 

 size of the animal. 



The pelage of the Raccoon is subject to considerable 

 variations of colour at different periods of life, and in dif- 

 ferent individuals. The rings on the tail, and the patches 

 around the eyes are, however, uniform and constant. The 

 tail of the Raccoon is not affected by the coldest weather; 

 hence this quadruped is never known to gnaw his tail, as 

 has been observed of animals closely allied to it in configu- 

 ration and habits. 



The fur of the Raccoon forms an article of considerable 

 value in commerce, as it is largely employed in the fabri- 

 cation of hats. Vast numbers of Raccoon skins are col- 

 lected by the different fur companies; and we occasionally 

 see in our furrier shops, skins which must have belonged 

 to individuals of much larger size than those from which 

 the measurements have been hitherto taken. 



Raccoons are found throughout the whole of North 

 America, and they still continue to be numerous in many 

 of the well peopled parts of the United States. Occasion- 

 ally their numbers are so much increased as to render them 

 very troublesome to the farmers in the low and wooded 

 parts of Maryland, bordering on the Chesapeake Bay. 

 Their season of sexual intercourse begins in the first week 

 of March; the female usually produces two or three cubs 

 at a litter; her den is then made in some hollow tree, or 

 very secure situation. — Godman. 



THE HORSE. 



[Continued from page 33.] 



The East Indian Horse. 



" We will now travel further eastward, and look at the 

 breeds of Horses in the Indian possessions. First, we have 

 the Toorky, originally from a Toorkoman and a Persian, 

 beautiful in his form, graceful in his action, and docile in 

 his temper. It is said that, when skilfully managed, the 

 grandeur and stateliness of his carriage are equal to what 

 the warmest imagination can conceive of the Horse: his 

 spirit rising as his exertions are required, he exhibits to 

 his beholders an appearance of fury in the performance of 

 his task, yet preserving to his rider the utmost playfulness 

 and gentleness. 



Next comes the Iranee, well limbed, and his joints 

 closely knit, and particularly powerful in the quarters, but 

 with scarcely sufiicient spirit, and his ears large and 

 loose. 



The patient and docile Cozakee is deep in the girth, 

 powerful in the fore-arm, but with large head, and sadly 

 cat-hammed; hardy, and calculated for long journeys and 

 severe service. 



The Mojinniss have spirit, beauty, speed, and perseve- 

 rance. 



The Tazsee is slight, hollow-backed, and, for that rea- 

 son perhaps, although deficient in strength, and leaving as 

 it were his hind-legs behind him, and likewise irritable in 

 temper, yet sought after on account of the peculiar easiness 

 of his pace. 



A sale of Horses near the Company's stud, at Hissar, is 

 thus described by an excellent judge. ' Not less than one 

 thousand Horses were shown. They were all above four- 

 teen hands and a half in height, high-crested, and showy- 

 looking Horses. The great defect seemed a want of bone 

 below the knee, which is indeed general to all the native 

 Horses throughout India: and also so great a tendency to 

 fulness in the hock, that, in England, it would be thought 

 half of them had blood spavins.' 



The Chiiiese Horse: 



This breed is small, weak, ill-formed, without spirit, 

 and altogether undeserving of notice. 



The Persian Horse. 



Returning westward we find the Persian next in estima- 

 tion, and deservedly so, to the Arabian. The head is 

 almost equally beautiful, the crupper superior; he is equal 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



77 



in speed, but far inferior in endurance. The whole frame 

 is more developed than in the Arabian, and is about four- 

 teen to fourteen and a half hands high. 



The Toorkoman Horse. 



Turkistan is that part of South Tartary, north-east of 

 the Caspian Sea, and has been celebrated from very early 

 times, for producing a pure and valuable breed of Horses. 

 They are called Toorkomans. They are said to be pre- 

 ferable even to the pure Persians, for service. They are 

 large, standing from fifteen to sixteen hands high, swift, 

 and inexhaustible under fatigue. Some of them have tra- 

 velled nine hundred miles in eleven successive days. They, 

 however, are somewhat too small in the barrel, too long in 

 the legs, — occasionally ewe-necked, and always have a 

 head out of proportion large: yet, such are the good 

 qualities of the Horse, that one of the pure blood is worth 

 two or three hundred pounds, even in that country. 



The Tartar and Calmuck Horse. 



The Horses of the other parts of Tartary, comprehend- 

 ing the immense plains of Central Asia, and a considera- 

 ble part of European Russia, are little removed from a 

 wild state: they are small and badly made; but capable 

 of supporting the longest and most rapid journey, on the 

 scantiest fare. The foals, from the earliest period, are 

 exposed to the inclemency of the weather, have little to 

 eat, and follow their dams in the longest excursions, and, 

 therefore, soon acquire a very great power of sustaining 

 fatigue. They must be hardy for another reason. The 

 Tartars live much on the flesh of Horses, and, consequently, 

 those animals that are unable to support the labour of their 

 frequent rapid emigrations are soon destroyed, and only 

 the more vigorous preserved. 



The Horses, which range at large over the plains, are 

 divided into herds, at the head of which are placed two 

 stallions, who carefully prevent them from intermingling 

 with each other, and it is rarely that a foal is lost. On the 

 approach of a strange herd, the stallions drive their own 

 into a close body, place themselves in front, and, if neces- 

 sary, attack and auve off the others. As the stallion-foals 

 grow up, they are driven away from the herd, and are 

 seen straggling about at a "distance, until they are strong 

 enough to form herds of wild mares for themselves. 



The Turkish Horse. 



The Turkish Horses are descended principally from the 

 Arab, crossed by the Persian and certain other bloods. 

 The body, however, is even longer than the Arabian's, 

 U 



and the crupper more elevated. They have contributed 

 materially to the improvement of the English breed. The 

 Byerley and the Helmsley Turk are names familiar to 

 every one conversant with Horses, and connected with the 

 best blood. 



The learned and benevolent Busbequius, who was am- 

 bassador at Constantinople in the seventeenth century, 

 gives the following account of the Turkish Horses. Our 

 grooms, and their masters too, may learn a lesson of wis- 

 dom and humanity from his words. 



' There is no creature so gentle as a Turkish Horse, 

 nor more respectful to his master, or the groom that dresses 

 him. The reason is, l^ecause they treat their Horses with 

 great lenity. I myself saw, when I was in Pontus, pass- 

 ing through a part of Bithinia called Axilos, towards 

 Cappadocia, how indulgent the countrymen were to young 

 colts, and how kindly they used them soon after they were 

 foaled. They would stroke them, bring them into their 

 houses, and almost to their tables, and use them even like 

 children. They hung something like a jewel about their 

 necks, and a garter, which was full of amulets against poi- 

 son, which they are most afraid of. The grooms that dress 

 them are as indulgent as their masters; they frequently 

 sleek them down with their hands, and never use a cudgel 

 to bang their sides, but in cases of necessity. This makes 

 their Horses great lovers of mankind, and they are so far 

 from kicking, wincing, or growing untractable by this 

 gentle usage, that you will hardly find a masterless Horse 

 amongst them. 



' But, alas! our Christian grooms' horses go on at ano- 

 ther rate. They never think them rightly curried till they 

 thunder at them with their voices, and let their clubs or 

 horse-whips, as it were, dwell on their sides. This makes 

 some Horses even tremble when their keepers come into 

 their stable; so that they hate and fear them too. But the 

 Turks love to have their Horses so gentle, that at the 

 word of command they may fall on their knees, and in 

 this position receive their riders. 



' They will take up a staff or club upon the road with 

 their teeth, which their rider has let fall, and hold it up to 

 him again; and when they are perfect in this lesson, then, 

 for credit, they have rings of silver hung on their nostrils 

 as a badge of honour and good discipline. I saw some 

 Horses when their master was fallen from the saddle, stand 

 stock still, without wagging a foot till he got up again. 

 Another time I saw a groom standing at a distance in the 

 midst of a whole ring of horses, and, at the word of com- 

 mand, they would either go round or stand still. Once 

 I saw some Horses when their master was at dinner with 

 me in an upper room, prick up their ears to hear his voice, 

 and when they did so they neighed for joy.' 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



The German Horse. 



The German Horses are generally large, heavy, and slow. 

 The Hungarian may be an exception, being lighter, speedier, 

 and giving greater proof of Eastern blood. Every part of the 

 continent, however, has been diligently engaged in the im- 

 provement of its breed, and the German and Prussian Horses 

 are now better proportioned, and have considerable endu- 

 rance, but are still deficient in speed. The Prussian, Ger- 

 man and the greater part of the French cavalry, are procured 

 from Holstein. They are of a dark, glossy bay colour, 

 with small heads, large nostrils, and full dark eyes, the fire 

 and clearness of which seem to denote the inward spirit of 

 the animal. They are beautiful, active, and strong. 



The Swedish, Finland, and Nonvegian Horse. 



Of the Swedish Horses, Clarke, in his ' Scandinavia,' 

 says, that they are small but beautiful, and remarkable for 

 their speed and spirit. Those of Finland he describes as 

 yet smaller, not more than twelve hands high, beautifully 

 formed, and very fleet. The peasants take them from the 

 forests when they are wanted for travellers. Although 

 apparently wild, they are under perfect control, and they 

 trot along with ease at the rate of twelve miles an hour. 



The following story is told of one of the Norwegian 

 Horses. His master had been dining at a neighbouring 

 town, and when it was time to return, had exceeded so 

 much, that he could not keep a firm seat in his saddle. 

 The Horse regulated himself, as well as he could, accord- 

 ing to the unsettled motion of his rider, but, happening to 

 make a false step, the peasant was thrown, and hung with 

 one foot entangled in the stirrup. The Horse immediately 

 stopped, and twisting his body in various directions endea- 

 voured to extricate his master, but in vain. The man 

 was severely hurt, and almost helpless; but the shock had 

 brought him to his senses. The Horse looked at him as 

 he lay on the ground, and, stooping, laid hold of the brim 

 of his hat, and raised his head a little; but the hat coming 

 off, he fell again. The animal then laid hold of the collar 

 of his coat, and raised him by it so far from the ground, that 

 he was enabled to draw his foot out of the stirrup. After 

 resting awhile he regained the saddle, and reached his 

 home. Grateful to his preserver, the man did, what every 

 good feeling bid him, — he cherished the animal until it 

 died of old age. 



Many a farmer owes a considerable debt of gratitude to 

 his intelligent and faithful servant, who has taken care of 

 him when he was unable to take care of himself, and, possi- 

 bly, has preserved his life. Let him repay the debt by 

 kinder usage. 



The Iceland Horse. 



There are numerous troops of Horses in this cold and 

 inhospitable countr}-, descended, according to INIr. Ander- 

 son, from the Norwegian Horse, but, according to JNIr. 

 Horrebow, being of Scottish origin. They are very small, 

 strong, and swift. There are thousands of them in the 

 mountains which never enter a stable, but instinct or habit 

 has taught them to scrape away the snow, or break the 

 ice, in search of their scanty food. A few are usually kept 

 in the stable, but when the peasant wants more he catches 

 as many as he needs, and shoes them himself, and that 

 sometimes with a sheep's horn. 



The Flemish and Dutch Horse. 



The Flemish and Dutch Horses are large, and strongly 

 and beautifully formed. We are indebted to them for 

 some of the best blood of our draught Horses, and we still 

 have frequent recourse to them for keeping up and improv- 

 ing the breed. 



The French Horse. 



France contains numerous breeds of Horses, and consi- 

 derable attention has lately been paid to their improve- 

 ment. The provinces of Auvergne and Poitou produce 

 good ponies and galloways; but the best French Horses 

 are bred in Limousin and Normandy. From the former 

 district come excellent saddle-horses and hunters; and 

 from the latter a stronger species, for the road, the cavalry, 

 or the carriage. The Norman Horses are now much 

 crossed by English hunters, and occasionally by the tho- 

 rough-bred; and the English roadster and light draught 

 Horse has not suffered by a mixture with the Norman. 



The Spanish Horse. 



Spain was early celebrated for her breed of Horses. The 

 Andalusian charger and the Spanish jennet are familiar to 

 all readers of romance. The subjugation of so great a por- 

 tion of the peninsula to the Moorish sway, by introducing 

 so much of the Barbary blood, mainly contributed to the 

 undisputed excellence of the Spanish Horse. One breed, 

 long in the limbs, and graceful in all its motions, was the 

 favourite war-horse of the knight; while another race, 

 carrying the esquire, although inferior in elegance, pos- 

 sessed far more strength and endurance. The Spanish 

 Horse of the present day is not much unlike the Yorkshire 

 half-breed ; perhaps with flatter legs and better feet, but far 

 inferior figure. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



79 



The Italian Horse. 



The Italian Horses were once in high repute, particularly 

 the Neapolitans; but like every thing else in those mis- 

 managed countries, they have sadly degenerated. One cir- 

 cumstance has mainly contributed to this falling off in 

 reputation and value, viz. that the breed has been kept up 

 by occasional intermixture, not of Eastern but of Euro- 

 pean blood. A few of the Neapolitan Horses, from their 

 superipr size and stateliness, are well adapted for the car- 

 riage. 



The Jimerican Horse. 



In the extensive territory and varied climate of the 

 United States, several breeds of Horses are found. 



The Canadian is found principally in Canada, and the 

 Northern States. He is supposed to be of French de- 

 scent, and many of the celebrated American trotters are 

 of this breed. 



The Conestoga Horse is found in Pennsylvania and the 

 middle States — long in the leg and light in the carcase — 

 sometimes rising seventeen hands; used principally for the 

 carriage, but when not too high, and with sufficient sub- 

 stance, useful for hunting and the saddle. 



The English Horse, with a good deal of blood, prevails 

 in Virginia and Kentucky; and is found, to a greater or 

 less degree, in all the States. The Americans have, at 

 different times, imported some of the best English blood. 

 It has been most diligently and purely preserved in the 

 Southern States. The celebrated Shark, the best horse of 

 his day, and equalled by few at any time, was the sire of 

 the best Virginian Horses; and Tally-ho, a son of High- 

 flyer, peopled the Jerseys." 



The Zebra 



" Is, perhaps, the handsomest and most elegantly clothed 

 of all quadrupeds. He has the shape and graces of the 

 Horse, the swiftness of the stag, and a striped robe of 

 black and white alternately disposed with so much regu- 

 larity and symmetry, that it seems as if Nature had made 

 use of the rule and compass to paint it. These alternate 

 bands of black and white are so much the more singular, as 

 they are straight, parallel, and very exactly divided, like a 

 striped stuff; and as they, in other parts, extend them- 

 selves not only over the body, but over the head, the 

 thighs, the legs, and even the ears and the tail; so that, at 

 a distance, this animal appears as if he was surrounded with 

 little fillets, which some person had disposed, in a regular 

 manner, over every part of the body. In the females. 



these bands are altei-nately black and white; in the male, 

 they are brown and yellow, but always of a lively and 

 brilliant mixture, upon a short, fine, and thick hair; the 

 lustre of which still more increases the beauty of the 

 colours. The Zebra is, in general, less than the Horse, 

 and larger than the Ass; and, although it has often been 

 compared to those two animals, and called the TVild Horse, 

 and the Striped J3ss, it is a copy neither of the one nor 

 the other, and might rather be called their model, if all 

 was not equally original in nature, and if every species had 

 not an equal right to creation. 



The Zebra is not the animal the ancients have indicated 

 under the name Onagra. There exists in the Levant, the 

 eastern parts of Asia, and in the northern parts of Africa, 

 a beautiful race of asses, which, like the finest horses, are 

 natives of Arabia. This race diflers from the common, by 

 the size of the body, the slenderness of the legs, and the 

 lustre of the hair; they are of a uniform, but commonly of 

 a fine mouse colour, with a black cross upon the back and the 

 shoulders; and sometimes they are of a bright gray colour, 

 with a flaxen cross. The Zebra is also of a different climate 

 from the Onagra, and is only to be met with in the most 

 eastern and the most southern parts of Africa, from Ethio- 

 pia to the Cape of Oood Hope, and thence to Congo: it 

 exists neither in Europe, Asia, nor America, nor even in 

 all the northern parts of Africa: those which some travel- 

 lers tell us they have seen at the Brazils, have been trans- 

 ported thither from Africa; those which others are re- 

 counted to have seen in Persia and in Turkey, have been 

 brought from Ethiopia; and, in short, those that we have 

 seen in Europe arc almost all from the Cape of Good Hope. 

 This point of Africa is their true climate, their native 

 country, and where the Dutch have employed all their 

 care to subject them and to render them tame without hav- 

 ing been hitherto able to succeed. 



The Zebra is chiefly found in the southern parts of 

 Africa; often seen near the Cape of Good Hope, and a 

 penalty of fifty rix-dollars is inflicted on any person who 

 shoots one of them. Such of them as are caught alive are 

 presented to the governor. Several have been brought to 

 America, but they have all displayed great wildness and 

 even ferocity. 



The Zebra of the Plains. 



The Zebra which we have just described is confined to 

 the mountains; the subject of the present article inhabits 

 the flat parts near the Cape. Till very recently, the dif- 

 ference between them was not accurately understood. 

 ' The ground colour of its whole body, (says Mr. Bennett) 

 is white, interrupted by a regular series of broad black 




so 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



stripes extending from the back across the sides, with nar- 

 rower and fainter ones intervening between each. Over 

 the haunches and shoulders these stripes form a kind of 

 bifurcation, between the divisions of which there are a few 

 transverse lines of the same colour; but these suddenly and 

 abruptly cease, and are not continued on the legs, which 

 are perfectly white. Along the back there is a narrow 

 longitudinal line, bordered on each side with white. The 

 7nane is throughout broadly and deeply tipped with black, 

 and is marked by a continuation of the transverse bands of 

 the neck. The lines of the face are narrow and beautifully 

 regular; from the centre of the forehead they radiate down- 

 wards over the eyes; along the front of the muzzle they are 

 longitudinal, the outer ones having a curve outwards; and 

 on the sides they form broader transverse bands. From 

 the confluence of these bands on the extremity of the muz- 

 zle, the nose, and the lower lip, those parts become of a 

 nearly uniform blackish brown. The tail is white; there 

 is no longitudinal ventral line: and a large black patch 

 occupies the posterior part of the ear, near the tip. The 

 hoofs are moderately large, deep in front, shallow behind, 

 and much expanded at their margin.' 



The Jlss. 



If we consider this animal with some degree of atten- 

 tion, he appears only to be a Horse degenerated. The 

 perfect similitude in the conformation of the internal 

 parts, and the great resemblance of the body, legs, feet, 

 and the entire skeleton, is a sufficient foundation for this 

 opinion; we may also attribute the slight differences which 

 are found between these two animals, to the influence of 

 the climate, food, and the fortuitous succession of many 

 generations of small wild Horses, half degenerated, which, 

 by little and little, have still continued degenerating, and 

 have at last produced a new and fixed species; or rather a 

 succession of individuals alike, all vitiated in the same 

 manner, sufficiently differing from a Horse to be looked 

 upon as another species. What appears to favour this no- 

 tion is, that as Horses vary much more than Asses in the 

 colour of their skin, they are consequently more anciently 

 domestic, since all domestic animals vary much more in 

 their colour than wild ones of the same species; that the 

 greater number of wild Horses of which travellers speak, 

 are small in their size, and have, like Asses, the coat gray, 

 and the tail naked and frizzled at the end; and, that there 

 are wild Horses, and even domestic ones, which have a 

 black stripe on the back, and other marks, which nearly 

 resemble both wild and domestic Asses. 



Again, if we consider the difference of the temperament, 

 disposition, and manners; in a word, the organism of these 



two animals, and above all, the impossibility of mixing the 

 breed to make one common species, or even an intermedi- 

 ate species which may be renewed; it appears a better 

 founded opinion, that these animals are of a species equally 

 ancient, and originally as essentially different as they are 

 at present; as the Ass differs materially from the Horse, in 

 the smallness of the size, largeness of the head, length of 

 the ears, hardness of the skin, nakedness of the tail, the 

 form of the rump, and also in the voice, the appetite, 

 manner of drinking, &c. Do the Horse and the Assy then, 

 come originally from the same stock? are they of the same 

 family or not? and have they not alvyays been different 

 animals? 



Although we cannot demonstrate that the production of 

 a species, by degeneration, is a thing impossible in na- 

 ture, yet the number of probabilities to the contrary is so 

 great, that even philosopliically, we can no longer doubt 

 of it; for if some species have been produced by the dege- 

 neration of others, if the species of the Ass comes from the 

 species of the Horse, this can only have happened succes- 

 sively, and by degrees there would have been, between the 

 Horse and the Ass, a great number of intermediate animals, 

 the first of which would have differed but slightly in its 

 nature from the Horse, and the latter would have ap- 

 proached by degrees to that of the Ass; and why do we 

 not see the representatives, the descendants of these 

 intermediate species? why do only the two extremes 

 remain? 



The Ass is then an Ass, and not a Horse degenerated; 

 the Ass has a naked tail; he is neither a stranger, an intru- 

 der, nor a bastard; he has, like all other animals, his family, 

 his species, and his rank; his blood is pure; and although 

 his nobility is less illustrious, yet it is equally good, equally 

 ancient with that of the Horse. Why, then, have we so 

 much contempt for this animal; so good, so patient, so 

 steady, so useful? do men carry their contempt even to 

 animals, those which serve them so well, and at so small 

 an expense? We bestow education on the Horse, take 

 care of him, instruct him, and exercise him, whilst the 

 Ass is abandoned to the care of the lowest servant, or the 

 tricks of children; so that, instead of improving, he must 

 lose by his education; and if there were not a fund of 

 good qualities, he would certainly lose them by the man- 

 ner in which he is treated. He is the May-game of 

 the rustics, who beat him with staffs, overload him, and 

 make him work beyond his strength. We do not consi- 

 der, that the Ass would be in himself, and with respect to 

 us, the most beautiful, the best formed, and most distin- 

 guished of animals, if there were no Horse in the world; 

 he is the second, instead of being the first; and it is from 

 that only, that he appears to be of no value: the compari- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



81 



son degrades him; we look at him, and give our opinions, 

 not from himself, but comparatively with the Horse; we 

 forget that he is an Ass, that he has all the good qualities 

 of his nature, all the gifts attached to his species; and at 

 the same time, we only think of the figure and qualities of 

 the Horse which are wanting in him, and which he ought 

 not to have. 



There are among Asses different races, as among Horses; 

 but they are much less known, because they have not been 

 taken the same care of, or followed with the same atten- 

 tion; but we cannot doubt that they came all originally 

 from warm climates. Aristotle assures us, that there were 

 none in his time in Scythia, nor in the other neighbouring 

 countries of Scythia, nor even in Gaul, which, he says, is 

 a cold climate; and he adds, that a cold climate either 

 prevents them from procreating their species, or causes 

 them to degenerate; and that this last circumstance is the 

 reason that they are small and weak in Illyria, Thrace, and 

 Epirus. They appear to have come originally from Ara- 

 bia, and to have passed from Arabia into Egypt, from 

 Egypt into Greece, from Greece into Italy, from Italy into 

 France, and afterwards into Germany, England, and lastly 

 into Sweden, &c. for they are in fact, weak and small in 

 proportion to the coldness of the climate. They are said 

 to have been introduced into England subsequently to the 

 reign of Elizabeth. Of all the various breeds of Asses, the 

 Spanish breed is by far the finest. They are often found 

 of the height of fifteen hands, and the value of a hundred 

 guineas. 



The Latins, after the Greeks, have called the Wild 

 Ass, Angra; which animal must not be confounded, as 

 some naturalists and many travellers have done, with the 

 Zebra, because the Zebra is of a different species from the 

 Ass. The Angra, or Wild Ass, is not striped like the 

 Zebra, and is not near so elegant in figure. Wild Asses 

 are found in some of the islands of the Archipelago, and 

 particularly in that of Cerigo; there are also many in the 

 deserts of Libya and Numidia; they are gray, and run so 

 fast that the Horses of Barbary only can beat them in 

 hunting. When they see a man, they give a loud cry, 

 turn themselves about, and stop, and do not attempt to fly 

 till they find he comes near them ; they are taken in snares 

 made with ropes, and go in troops both to pasturage and 

 to drink; their flesh is also eaten. There were also, in the 

 time of Marmol, Wild Asses in the island of Sardinia, but 

 less than those of Africa, and Pietro della Valle says, he 

 has seen a Wild Ass at Bassora, whose figure differed in 

 no respect from a domestic one; he was only of a lighter 

 colour, and had, from the head to the tail, a stripe of 

 white; he was also much livelier and lighter in hunting, 

 than Asses usually are. 



X 



Neither Asses nor Horses were originally found in 

 America, though the climate, and especially of that part 

 called North America, is as good for them as any other: 

 those which the Spaniards have transported from Europe, 

 and which they have left in the West Indies and on the 

 continent, have greatly multiplied; and in some parts Wild 

 Asses are found in troops, and are taken in snares like 

 wild Horses. The Wild Asses of America will not suffer 

 a Horse to live among them. Wo to the Horse that 

 chances to stray into the pasture where they are feeding in 

 bands. They fall upon him, and bite and kick him till he 

 ceases to exist. 



As Wild Asses are unknown in these climates, we can- 

 not in reality say whether the flesh is good to eat; but it is 

 certain that the flesh of the domestic Ass is extremely bad, 

 and harder than that of the Horse. The milk of the Ass, 

 on the contrary, is an approved and specific remedy for 

 certain complaints, and its use was known from the Greeks 

 to us: that it may be good in its kind, we should choose 

 a young healthy she Ass, full of flesh, which has lately 

 foaled, and which has not since been with the male: care 

 must be taken to feed her well with hay, wheat, and grass, 

 with particular care not to let the milk cool, and not even 

 to expose it to the air, which will spoil it in a little time. 



The Ass is, perhaps with respect to himself, the animal 

 which can carry the greatest weight; and as it costs but little 

 to feed him, and he scarcely requires any care; he is of 

 great use in the country, at the mill, &c.; he also serves to 

 ride on, as all his paces are gentle, and he stumbles less 

 than the Horse: he is frequently put to the plough in 

 countries where the earth is light, and his dung is an ex- 

 cellent manure to enrich hard moist lands. 



The Ass, like some other animals, and some birds, pos- 

 sesses in great perfection the power of finding his way 

 home, when lost at a great distance. An instance of this 

 is recorded by Kirby and Spence, in their excellent Intro- 

 duction to Entomology. In March, 1816, an Ass, the 

 property of Captain Dundas, R. N. then at Malta, was 

 shipped on board the Ister frigate. Captain Forrest, bound 

 from Gibraltar for that island. The vessel having struck 

 on some sands off the Point de Gat, at some distance from 

 the shore, the Ass was thrown overboard to give it a 

 chance of swimming to land, — a poor one, for the sea was 

 running so high, that a boat which left the ship was lost. 

 A few days afterwards, however, when the gates of Gib- 

 raltar were opened in the morning, the Ass presented him- 

 self for admittance, and proceeded to the stable of Mr. 

 Weeks, a merchant, which he had formerly occupied, to 

 the no small surprise of this gentleman, who imagined 

 that, from some accident, the animal had never been 

 shipped on board the Ister. On the return of this vessel 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



to repair, the mystery was explained, and it turned out, 

 that Valiante, (as the Ass was called,) had not only swam 

 safely to shore, but without guide, compass, or travel- 

 ling map, had found his way from Point de Gat to 

 Gibraltar, — a distance of more than two hundred miles, 

 through a mountainous and intricate country, intersected 

 by streams, which he had never traversed before, and in 

 so short a period, that he could not have made one false 

 turn. His not having been stopped on the road was attri- 

 buted to the circumstance of his having formerly been used 

 to whip criminals upon, which was indicated to the pea- 

 sants, who have a superstitious horror of such Asses, by 

 the holes in his ears, to which the persons flogged were 

 tied. 



The Mule 



Is an intermediate creature, springing from the union of 

 the male Ass with the JNIare, or of the Horse with the fe- 

 male Ass, (the former being the best;) and it accordingly 

 inherits the small legs and handsome shape of the Horse, 

 and the long ears, and cross on the back, which character- 

 ize its more humble parent. In obstinacy it surpasses the 

 latter; but it is valuable for its sureness of foot, which ena- 

 bles it to pass with safety along the most tremendous pre- 

 cipices, if left to the guidance of its own instinct. The 

 Mule is fond of handsome trappings, and is longer lived 

 than either the Horse or the Ass. Nature denies it the 

 power of continuing its race. In one or two instances, 

 however, an exception has occurred to this rule. 

 [To be continued-l 



INCUBATION. 



A HEN has scarcely sat on the egg twelve hours, when 

 some lineaments of the head and body of the chicken ap- 

 pear. The heart may be seen to beat at the end of the 

 second day; it has at that time somewhat of the form of a 

 horse-shoe, but no blood yet appears. At the end of two 

 days the vesicles of blood are to be distinguished, the 

 pulsation of which is very visible: one of them is the left 

 ventricle, and the other the root of the great artery. At the 

 end of the fiftieth hour, one auricle of the heart appears, and 

 resembles a noose folded down upon itself. The beating of 

 the heart is first observed in the auricle and afterwards in the 

 ventricle. At the end of seventy hours the wings are dis- 

 tinguishable; and on the head two bubbles are seen for the 

 brain; one for the bill; and two others, for the fore and 



hind part of the head. Towards the end of the fourth day, ' 

 the two auricles, already visible, draw nearer to the heart 

 than they did before. The liver appears towards the fifth ! 

 day. At the expiration of one hundred and thirty-four | 

 hours, the first voluntary motion is observed; in seven 

 hours more, the lungs and stomach become visible; and ' 

 four hours after this, the intestines, the loins, and the i 

 upper jaw. At the hundred and forty-fourth hour, two ' 

 ventricles are discerned, and two drops of blood, instead > 

 of the single one which was seen before. The seventh i 

 day, the brain begins to have some consistence. At the j 

 hundred and ninetieth hour of incubation, the bill opens, I 

 and the flesh appears in the breast; in four hours more, the | 

 breast bone is seen; and in sis after this, the ribs appear, | 

 forming from the back; and the bill is plainly seen, as I 

 well as the gall-bladder. The bill becomes green at the I 

 end of two hundred and thirty -six hours, and if the chicken ' 

 is taken out of its coverings, it evidently moves itself. ! 

 The feathers begin to shoot out towards the two hundred ' 

 and fortieth hour, and the skull becomes gristly. At the | 

 two hundred and sixty-fourth, the eyes appear. At the two 

 hundred and eighty-eighth, the ribs are perfect. At the 

 three hundred and thirty-first, the spleen draws near the 

 stomach, and the lungs to the chest. At the end of three 1 

 hundred and fifty-five hours, the bill frequently opens and I 

 shuts; and at the end of the eighteenth day, the first cry of 

 the chicken is heard. It afterwards gets more strength 

 and grows constantly, till at length it is enabled to set 

 itself free from its confinement. 



In the total of this process must be remarked, that every 

 part appears at the appropriate time; if, for example, the 

 liver is formed on the fifth day, it is founded on the pre- 

 ceding situation of the chicken, and on the changes which 

 are to follow. No part of the body could possibly appear, 

 either sooner or later, without the whole embryo sufiering; 

 and each of the limbs becomes visible at the proper mo- 

 ment. This ordination, so invariable in its effects, is 

 manifestly the work of a supreme Being, whose creative 

 powers must be still more sensibly acknowledged, when 

 the manner in which the chicken is formed out of the parts 

 which compose the egg is also considered; how astonish- 

 ing it is that in this there should exist the principles of life: 

 that all the parts of an animal's body should therein be 

 concealed, and require nothing but heat to unfold and 

 quicken them — that the formation of the bird should be so 

 regular — that exactly at the same instant the same changes 

 will take place in a great number of eggs — that the chicken, 

 when hatched, is heavier than the egg was before. But 

 even these are not all the wonders in the production of 

 the bird from the egg, (and this instance will serve to illus- 

 trate the whole feathered race,) there are others, which, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



from our limited faculties, are altogether hidden from our 

 research. 



Hatching chickens by artiiicial heat, is a process that 

 has been long known in Egypt: (it was successfully tried 

 by Mr. Potter, in the isle of Ely, both with hens and phea- 

 sants' eggs,) but this is only now practised by the inhabi- 

 tants of a single village called Berne, and by those who 

 live in its immediate vicinity. About the beginning of 

 autumn, these persons spread themselves all over the coun- 

 try, and each of them are ready to undertake the manage- 

 ment of an oven. These ovens are of different sizes, capa- 

 ble of containing from forty to eighty thousand eggs; and 

 the number of ovens in different parts, was about three 

 hundred and eighty. These were annually kept working 

 for about six months; and as each brood takes up twenty- 

 one days in hatching, it is easy in every one of them to 

 produce eight different broods of chickens in the year. 



The ovens are of the most simple construction, consist- 

 ing of only a low arched apartment of clay. Two rows 

 of shelves are formed, and the eggs are placed so as not to 

 touch each other. They are slightly moved five or six 

 times in every twenty-four hours. All possible care is to 

 be taken to diffuse the heat equally throughout; and there 

 is but one small aperture large enough to admit a man 

 stooping. During the first eight days, the heat is rendered 

 great, in the last eight it is gradually diminished, till at 

 length, when the young brood is ready to come forth, it 

 is reduced almost to the state of the natural atmosphere. 

 At the end of the first eight days, it is known which of the 

 eggs will not be productive. 



Every person who undertakes the care of an oven is 

 under the obligation of delivering to his employer only 

 two-thirds of as many chickens asithere have been eggs 

 given to him, and he is a gainer by this bargain, as it always 

 happens (except from some unexpected accident) that more 

 than two-thirds of the eggs produce birds. In order 

 to make a calculation of the number of chickens thus 

 hatched yearly in Egypt, it has been supposed that, upon 

 an average of only two-thirds of the eggs being productive, 

 and that each brood consists of at least thirty thousand 

 chickens, the ovens, by this estimate, give life, annually, 

 to about 92,600,000 of these animals. 



M. de Reaumur introduced this advantageous mode of 

 hatching eggs into Fi'ance, and by a number of ingenious 

 experiments, reduced the art to certain principles. He 

 found that the degree of heat necessary for the production 

 of all kinds of domestic fowls was the same, the only dif- 

 ference consisting in the time during which it ought to be 

 communicated to the eggs; it will bring the canary-bird to 

 perfection in eleven or twelve days, while the turkey 

 poult requires from twenty-four to twenty-eight. M. de 



Reaumur found that stoves heated by means of pipes from 

 a baker's oven, or the furnace of glass-houses, succeeded 

 better than those made hot by layers of dung, the mode pre- 

 ferred in Egypt. These should have their heat kept as 

 nearly equal as possible, and the eggs should be frequently 

 removed from the sides into the middle, in order that each 

 may receive an equal portion of heat. After the eggs were 

 hatched, he had the offspring put into a kind of low boxes 

 without bottoms, and lined with fur, the warmth of which 

 supplied that of the hen, and in which the chickens could 

 at any time take shelter. Till the chickens acquired some 

 strength, these boxes were kept in a warm room ; with safety 

 they then could be exposed to the open air in a court-yard. 

 The young seldom take any food the whole day after being 

 hatched; then a few crumbs of bread are given for a day 

 or two, after which time they begin to pick up insects and 

 grain for themselves. That the trouble of attending them 

 might be saved, M. de Reaumur taught capons to watch 

 them in the same manner as hens, of which three or four 

 were sufiicient to take care of two hundred chickens. 



RAPID PROPAGATION OF DOMESTIC QUAD- 

 RUPEDS. 



Next to the direct agency of man, his indirect influ- 

 ence' in multiplying the numbers of large herbivorous quad- 

 rupeds of domesticated races, may be regarded as one of the 

 most obvious causes of the extermination of species. On 

 this, and on several other grounds, the introduction of the 

 horse, ox, and other mammalia, into America, and their 

 rapid propagation over the continent within the last three 

 centuries, is a fact of great importance in natural history. 

 The extraordinary herds of wild cattle and horses which 

 overrun the plains of South America, sprung from a very 

 few pairs first carried over by the Spaniards; and they 

 prove that the wide geographical range of large species in 

 great continents, does not necessarily imply that they have 

 existed there from remote periods. Humboldt observes, 

 in his Travels, on the authority of Azzara, that it is be- 

 lieved there exist, in the Pampas of Buenos Ayres, twelve 

 million cows and three million horses, without comprising 

 in this enumeration, the cattle that have no acknowledged 

 proprietor. In the Llanos of Caraccas, the rich hateros, or 

 proprietors of pastoral farms, are entirely ignorant of the 

 number of cattle they possess. The young are branded 

 with a mark peculiar to each herd, and some of the most 

 wealthy owners mark as many as fourteen thousand a year. 




84 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



In the northern plains, from the Orinoco to the lake of 

 Maracaybo, M. Depons reckoned that one million two hun- 

 dred thousand oxen, one hundred and eighty thousand 

 horses, and ninety thousand mules, wandered at large. In 

 some parts of the valley of the Mississippi, especially in 

 the country of the Osage Indians, wild horses are immensely 

 numerous. 



The establishment of black cattle in America dates from 

 Columbus' second voyage to St. Domingo. They there 

 multiplied rapidly; and that island presently became a kind 

 of nursery from which these animals were successively trans- 

 ported to various parts of the continental coast, and from 

 thence into the interior. Notwithstanding these numerous 

 exportations, in twenty-seven years after the discovery of 

 the islands, herds of four thousand head, as we learn from 

 Oviedo, were not uncommon, and there were even some 



writers, relate a fact which illustrates very clearly the prin- 

 ciple of the check which the increase of one animal neces- 

 sarily offers to that of another. The Spaniards had intro- 

 duced goats into the island of Juan Fernandez, where they 

 became so prolific as to furnish the pirates who infested 

 those seas with provisions. In order to cut off this re- 

 source from the buccaneers, a number of dogs were turned 

 loose into the island; and so numerous did they become in 

 their turn, that they destroyed the goats in every accessi- 

 ble part, after which the number of the wild dogs again 

 decreased. 



As an example of the rapidity with which a large tract 

 may become peopled by the offspring of a single pair of 

 quadrupeds, we may mention that in the year 1773 thir- 

 teen rein-deer were exported from Norway, only three of 

 which reached Iceland. These were turned loose into the 



that amounted to eight thousand. In 15S7, the number of mountains of Guldbringfe Syssel, where they multiplied 



hides exported from St. Domingo alone, according to 

 Acosta's report, was thirty-five thousand four hundred 

 and forty -four; and in the same year there were ex- 

 ported sixty-four thousand three hundred and fifty from 

 the ports of New Spain. This was in the sixty-fifth year 

 after the taking of Mexico, previous to which event the Spa- 

 niards, who came into that country, had not been able to 

 engage in any thing else than war. 



All our readers are aware, that these animals are now 

 established throughout the American continent, from Ca- 

 nada to Paraguay. 



The ass has thriven very generally in the New World; 

 and we learn from Ulloa, that in Quito they ran wild, and 

 multiplied in amazing numbers, so as to become a nui- 

 .sance. They grazed together in herds, and, when attacked, 

 defended themselves with their mouths. If a horse hap- 

 pened to stray into the places where they fed, they all fell 

 upon him, and did not ce&se biting and kicking till they 

 left him dead. 



The first hogs were carried to America by Columbus, 

 and established in the island of St. Domingo the year fol- 

 lowing its discovery in November, 1493. In succeeding 

 years they were introduced into other places where the 

 Spaniards settled; and, in the space of half a century, they 

 were found established in the New World, from the lati- 

 tude of 25° north, to the 40th degree of south latitude. 

 Sheep, also, and goats have multiplied enormously in the 

 New World, as have also the cat and the rat, which last 

 has been imported unintentionally in ships. The dogs 

 introduced by man, which have at different periods become 

 wild in America, hunted in packs like the wolf and the 

 jackal, destroying not only hogs, but the calves and foals 

 of the wild cattle and horses. 



Ulloa in his voyage, and Buffon on the authority of old 



greatly, in the course of forty years, that it was not un- 

 common to meet with herds consisting of from forty to one 

 hundred in various districts. 



In Lapland, observes a modern writer, the rein-deer is 

 a loser by his connexion with man, but Iceland will be 

 this creature's paradise. There is, in the interior, a tract 

 which Sir G. Mackenzie computes at not less than forty 

 thousand square miles, without a single human habitation, 

 and almost entirely unknown to the natives themselves. 

 There are no wolves; the Icelander will keep out the bears; 

 and the rein-deer, being almost unmolested by man, will 

 have no enemy whatever, unless it has brought with it its 

 own tormenting gad-fly. 



Besides the quadrupeds before enumerated by us, our 

 domestic fowls have also succeeded in the West Indies and 

 America, where they have the common fowl, the goose, the 

 duck, the peacock, the pigeon, and the guinea-fowl. As 

 these were often taken suddenly from the temperate to 

 very hot regions, they were not reared at first without 

 much difiiculty: but after a few generations they became 

 familiarized to the climate, which, in many cases, ap- 

 proached much nearer than that of Europe to the tempera- 

 ture of their original native countries. 



The fact of so many millions of wild and tame individuals 

 of our domestic species, almost all of them the largest quad- 

 rupeds and birds, having been propagated throughout the 

 new continent within the short period that has elapsed 

 since the discovery of America, while no appreciable im- 

 provement can have been made in the productive powers 

 of that vast continent, affords abundant evidence of the 

 extraordinary changes which accompany the diffusion and 

 progressive advancement of the human race over the globe. 

 That it should have remained for us to witness such mighty 

 revolutions is a proof, even if there was no other evidence. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



85 



that the entrance of man into the planet is, comparatively 

 speaking, of extremely modern date, and that the effects of 

 his agency are only beginning to be felt. 



A modern writer has estimated, that there are in Ame- 

 rica upwards of four millions square miles of useful soil, 

 each capable of supporting two hundred persons; and 

 nearly six million, each mile capable of supporting four 

 hundred and ninety persons. If this conjecture be true, 

 it will follow, as that author observes, that if the natural 

 resources of America were fully developed, it would afford 

 sustenance to five times as great a number of inhabitants 

 as the entire mass of human beings existing at present upon 

 the globe. The new continent, he thinks, though less 

 than half the size of the old, contains an equal quantity of 

 useful soil, and much more than an equal amount of produc- 

 tive power. Be this as it may, we may safely conclude that 

 theamount of human population nowexisting, constitutes but 

 a small proportion of that which the globe is capable of 

 supporting, or which it is destined to sustain at no distant 

 period, by the rapid progress of society, especially in 

 America, Australia, and certain parts of the old continent. 

 [LyelPs Geology. 



MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT. 



SYLVIA MARILANDIC.i. 



[Plate VIII. Vol. 2. Size of life.] 



Tardus Trichas, Linn. Syst. i. 293. — Edw. 237. — 

 Yellow-breasted Warbler, Jirct. Zool. ii. No. 2S3. Id. 

 284. — Le Figuier aux joues noires, Burp. v. 292. — 

 La Fauvette a poitrinejaune de la Louisiane, Buff. 

 v. 162. PL Enl. 709, Jig. 2.— Lath. Sy?i. iv.—J. 

 Doughty's Collection. 



This is one of the humble inhabitants of briars, bram- 

 bles, alder bushes, and such shrubbery as grow most luxu- 

 riantly in low watery situations, and might with propriety 

 be denominated Humility, its business or ambition seldom 

 leading it higher than the tops of the underwood. Insects 

 and their larvse are its usual food. It dives into the deep- 

 est of the thicket, rambles among the roots, searches round 

 the stems, examines both sides of the leaf, raising itself on 

 its legs so as to peep into every crevice; amusing itself at 

 times with a very simple, and not disagreeable, song or 

 twitter, whitititee, lohitititee, whitititee; pausing for half 

 a minute or so, and then repeating its notes as before. It 

 Y 



inhabits the whole United States from Maine to Florida, 

 and also Louisiana; and is particularly numerous in the 

 low swampy thickets of Maryland, Pennsylvania, and 

 New-Jersey. It is by no means shy; but seems delibe- 

 rate and unsuspicious, as if the places it frequented, or its 

 own diminutiveness, were its sufficient security. It often 

 visits the fields of growing rye, wheat, barley, &c. and no 

 doubt performs the part of a friend to the farmer, in rid- 

 ding the stalks of vermin, that might otherwise lay waste 

 his fields. It seldom approaches the farm-house or city; 

 but lives in obscurity and peace amidst his favourite thick- 

 ets. It arrives in Pennsylvania about the middle or last 

 week of April, and begins to build its nest about the mid- 

 dle of ]\Iay: this is fixed on the ground, among the dried 

 leaves, in the very depth of a thicket of briars, sometimes 

 arched over, and a small hole left for entrance; the mate- 

 rials are dry leaves and fine grass, lined with coarse hair; 

 the eggs are five, white, or semi-transparent, marked with 

 specks of reddish-brown. The young leave the nest about 

 the twenty-second of June, and a second brood is often 

 raised in the same season. Early in September they leave 

 us, returning to the south. 



This pretty little species is four inches and three-quar- 

 ters long, and six inches and a quarter in extent; back, 

 wings, and tail, green-olive, which also covers the upper 

 part of the neck, but approaches to cinereous on the crown; 

 the eyes are inserted in a band of black, which passes from 

 the front, on both sides, reaching half way down the neck; 

 this is bounded above by another band of white deepenino- 

 into light blue; throat, breast, and vent brilliant j-ellow; 

 belly, a fainter tinge of the same colour; inside coverts of 

 the wings also yellow; tips and inner vanes of the wings, 

 dusky brown; tail cuneiform, dusky, edged with olive- 

 green: bill black, straight, slender, of the true Motacilla 

 form; though the bird itself was considered as a species of 

 Thrush by Linnseus, but very properly removed to the 

 genus Motacilla by Gmelin; legs flesh-coloured; iris of the 

 eye dark hazel. The female wants the black band through 

 the eye, has the bill brown, and the throat of a much paler 

 yellow. This last, I have good reason to suspect, has 

 been described by Europeans as a separate species; and that 

 from Louisiana, referred to in the synonymes, appears evi- 

 dently the same as the former, the chief difference, ac- 

 cording to Buffon, being in its wedged tail, which is 

 likewise the true form of our own species; so that this 

 error corrected will abridge the European nomenclature 

 of two species. 



The chief difference between the male and female, in the 

 markings of their plumage, is, that the female is destitute 

 of the black bar through the eyes, and the bordering one of 

 pale bluish -white. — Wilson. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



AMERICAN REDSTART. 



MUSCICAPA RUTICILLA. 



[Plate VIII. Vol. 



Size of life.] 



Muscicapa RuticiUa, Linn. Syst. i. 236, 10. — Gmel. 

 Syst. I. 935. — Motacilhi Jiavicauda, Gmel. Syst. i. 

 997. (female.) — Le Gobemouche d'' Jimerique, Bkiss. 

 Orn.w. 383, 14. PI. Enl. 566, Jig. 1, 2.—Small Ame- 

 rican Redstart, Edw. SO, Id. 257. (female.) — Yellow- 

 tailed Wurhler, Arct. Zool. ii. No. 301. Id. ii. No. 

 282. — Latham Syn. iv.427, IS. — A-ct. Zool. ii. No. 

 301. — J. Doughty's Collection. 



Though this, bird has been classed by several of our 

 most respectable ornithologists, among the Warblers, yet 

 in no species are the characteristics of the genus Muscicapa 

 more decisively marked; and in fact it is one of the most 

 expert Flycatchers of its tribe. It is almost perpetually 

 in motion; and will pursue a retreating party of flies from 

 the tops of the tallest trees, in an almost perpendicular but 

 zig-zag direction, to the ground, while the clicking of its 

 bill is distinctly heard, and I doubt not but it often secures 

 ten or twelve of these in a descent of three or four seconds. 

 It then alights on an adjoining branch, traverses it length- 

 wise for a few moments, flirting its expanded tail from 

 side to side, and suddenly shoots off", in a direction quite 

 unexpected, after fresh game, which it can discover at a 

 great distance. Its notes, or twitter, though animated and 

 sprightly, are not deserving the name of song; sometimes 

 they are weese, iveese, ivee.se, repeated every quarter of a 

 minute, as it skips among the branches; at other times this 

 twitter varies to several other chants, which I can instantly 

 distinguish in the woods, but cannot find words to imitate. 

 The interior of the forest, the borders of swamps and mea- 

 dows, deep glens covered with wood, and wherever flying 

 insects abound, there this little bird is sure to be seen. It 

 makes its aj^pearance in Pennsylvania, from the south, 

 late in April, and leaves us again about the beginning of 

 September. It is very generally found over the whole 

 United States; and has been taken at sea, in the fall, on 

 its way to St. Domingo and other of the West India islands, 

 where it winters, along with many more of our summer 

 visitants. It is also found in Jamaica, where it remains all 

 winter. 



The name Redstart, evidently derived from the German 

 Rothsterts, (red tail,) has been given this bird from its 

 supposed resemblance to the Redstart of Europe, {Mota- 

 cilla phoenicurus;) but besides being decisively of a dif- 

 ferent genus, it is very different both in size and in the 



tints and disposition of the colours of its plumage. BufTon 

 goes even so far as to question whether the differences 

 between the two be more than what might be naturally 

 expected from change of climate. This eternal reference 

 of every animal of the New World to that of the old, if 

 adopted to the extent of this writer, with all the transmu- 

 tations it is supposed to have produced, would leave us in 

 doubt whether even the Ka-te-dids of America, (a species 

 of Gryllus, well known for its lively chatter during the 

 evenings and nights of September and October,) were not 

 originally Nightingales of the old world, degenerated by 

 the inferiority of the food and climate of this upstart con- 

 tinent. We have in America many different species of 

 birds that approach so near in resemblance to one another, 

 as not to be distinguished but by the eye of a naturalist, and 

 on a close comparison; these live in the same climate, feed 

 on the same food, and are, I doubt not, the same now as 

 they were five thousand years ago; and ten thousand years 

 hence, if the species then exist, will be found marked with 

 the same nice discriminations as at present- Is it therefore 

 surprising,thattwodiflerentspecies, placed in different quar- 

 ters of the world, should have certain near resemblances to 

 one another, without being bastards, or degenerated de- 

 scendants, the one of the other, when the whole chain of 

 created beings seem united to each other by such amazing 

 gradations, that bespeak, not random chance and accidental 

 degeneracy, but the magnificent design of an incomprehen- 

 sively wise and omnipotent Creator? 



The American Redstart builds frequently in low bushes, 

 in the fork of a small sapling, or on the drooping branches 

 of the elm, within a few feet of the ground; outwardly it is 

 formed of flax well wound together, and moistened with 

 its saliva, interspersed here and there with pieces of 

 lichen, and lined with a very soft downy substance. The 

 female lays five white eggs, sprinkled with gray, and 

 specks of blackish. The male is extremely anxious for 

 itfi preservation; and on a person's approaching the place 

 will flirt about within a few feet, seeming greatly dis- 

 tressed. 



The length of this species is five inches, extent six and 

 a quarter; the general colour above is black, which covers 

 the whole head and neck, and spreads on the upper part of 

 the breast in a rounding form; where, as well as on the 

 head and neck, it is glossed with steel blue; sides of the 

 breast, below this black, the inside of the wings, and upper 

 half of the wing-quills, are of a fine aurora colour; but 

 the greater and lesser coverts of the wings being black con- 

 ceal this; and the orange, or aurora colour, appears only as 

 a broad transverse band across the wings; from thence to 

 the tip they are brownish; the four middle feathers of the 

 tail are black, the other eight of the same aurora colour, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



and black, towards the tips; belly and vent white, slightly 

 streaked with pale orange; legs black; bill of the true 

 Muscicapa form, triangular at the base, beset with long 

 bristles, and notched near the point. The female has not 

 the rich aurora band across the wing; her back and crown 

 is cinereous inclining to olive; the white below is not so 

 pure; lateral feathers of the tail and sides of the breast 

 greenish-yellow; middle tail feathers dusky brown. The 

 j-oung males of a year old, are almost exactly like the fe- 

 male, differing in these particulars, that they have a yel- 

 low band across the wings which the female has not, and 

 the back is more tinged with brown; the lateral tail fea- 

 thers are also yellow; middle ones brownish-black; inside 

 of the wings yellow. On the third season they receive 

 their complete colours; and as males of the second year, 

 in nearly the dress of the female, are often seen in the 

 woods, having the same notes as the full plumaged male, 

 it has given occasion to some people to assert, that the 

 females sing as well as the males; and others have taken 

 them for another species. The fact, however, is as I have 

 stated it. This bird is too little known b}' people in gene- 

 ral to have any provincial name. — lb. 



DEER HUNTING IN SOUTH AMERICA. 



As the haunts of the Fallow-Deer or Venays, are 

 generally far from the abodes of men, and as they live in 

 continual alarm from the depredations of the host of ene- 

 mies, beasts, and birds of prey, and even reptiles, that 

 beset them, but for the extraordinary instinct, or sagacity 

 nature has endowed them with, for their preservation, the 

 race must long since have been extinct. The impenetra- 

 ble mountains of the Cordilleras are inhabited by immense 

 herds of these animals, a species of the stag-kind, also, 

 sometimes herds amongst them, though, as there seems a 

 great aversion to this commixture, it must be considered 

 as dictated by some necessary or instinctive policy. In 

 those haunts are also to be met the Cabia Monies or 

 Mountain-Goat, so much admired for its symmetry of 

 form and delicious flavour. The intricate and steep path- 

 ways leading to their couching haunts, are mostly in clefts 

 of rocky precipices, inaccessible to beasts of prey; and 

 even a nimble dog can scarcely skip from rock to rock, to 

 the outposts where their videttes are placed. Should any 

 of them venture, they soon have occasion to repent their 

 temerity. 



It is not uncommon to see the jaguar, the tiger, &c. who 

 have the hardihood to attack their outposts, hurled by the 



butting sentinels, the horned patriarchs of the flock, down 

 a precipice of five or six hundred feet: so that, unless im- 

 pelled by extreme hunger, they never attack them, except 

 in their more open pastures. As those ravenous creatures 

 are dormant during the day, the Deer are then partly secure. 

 At night a straggler from the community is sure of its fate, 

 as the jaguars hunt in packs, and are very quick-scented. 

 One trait of the South American Deer is worthy of notice. 

 In Europe a hunted Deer is driven from amongst the herd, 

 and abandoned to its fate: here, the guardians of the flock, 

 succour even a stranger of their community. I apprehend, 

 that during the fawning season, the females and fawns suf- 

 fer more than the males, as the young are obliged to be 

 deposited in thickets, and the eagle and vulture are always 

 watching over head. The large brown snake is also a great 

 destroyer of them, but the jaguar and wild-cat are their 

 worst enemies. There are about four bucks to one doe in 

 the herd, which shows what destruction there must be of 

 the latter. The colours of the Deer are various, and mostly 

 beautifully dappled upon yellow, white, and dun. The 

 stag is generally of a dusky brown. Hunting those ani- 

 mals is a source both of amusement and emolument to the 

 Indian tribes in high latitudes, and they may be said to 

 have brought it to high perfection. Having ascertained 

 the haunts of the animals for about a week, the whole tribe 

 assemble before day-break; some ascend the highest trees 

 to mark their progress; others couch themselves under 

 leaves, so as to impound them when they betake them- 

 selves to their fastnesses; then the whole tribe, men, 

 women, and boys, stretch over a vast tract of country, and, 

 assisted by their curs and horns, make every kind of hideous 

 noises, obliging them to quit their grazing spots while the 

 dew is on the ground. As the Deer assemble, they form in 

 complete marching order, preceded by the elder or patri- 

 archs, while the bucks of the second class bring up the 

 rear, to protect the females and young, and repel any at- 

 tacks. In this manner they arrive at their haunts; while 

 the Indians, advancing in all directions, prevent their re- 

 treat, by closing up all the embouchures or openings, and 

 while the Deer are forming in battle-array, prepare the in- 

 struments of destruction, viz. large lances, resinous torches, 

 and nooses fixed to long poles. The women are also 

 busy stuffing jaguar and tiger skins. The Indians having 

 made proper crevices dug into the grit and brown rock 

 which form the path, advance. The images of the wild 

 beasts are now presented to intimidate the Deer from break- 

 ing, which the bucks no sooner perceive than they make 

 a violent efibrt to strike them into the gulf, — their ani- 

 mosity to those beasts being such, that they often pass or 

 leap over a man to get at them. The Indians then strike, 

 and hurl them into the abyss below, where the women are 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ready to hamstring or disable them before they recover 

 from their stupor. When the hunters can no longer pro- 

 voke them to rush on the stuffed tigers, &c., they make 

 signals to those over-head, to throw lighted flambeaux 

 amongst them. This causes them to make a desperate 

 effort to escape, and when the Indians have hurled a suffi- 

 cient number down the precipice, they suffer the females 

 and the fawns, and some of the bucks, to escape. Indeed, 

 they seem very much averse to destroying a doe at all, and 

 always liberate the doe fawns. In those excursions they 

 take on an average from four to five hundred. In taking the 

 Ciervo Grande, or Large Stag, they seldom get more than 

 from thirty to fifty; but of the Mountain-Goat they catch 

 an immense number; they enter the caverns in the rocks 

 by night, and pursue them by torch-light; and frequently 

 yoke a great many of them together alive, although the 

 flesh loses its flavour from the effort to domesticate them, 

 and they scarcely ever lose their native wildness. A full- 

 grown Fallow-Deer could be bought at Valencia for seven 

 pisettos, or five shillings British. During the hunting 

 season the Creoles sometimes hunt, but the Indians are 

 more expert. — Monthly Mag. 



ANECDOTE OF A DOG. 



A French merchant, having some money due from a 

 correspondent, set out on horseback, accompanied by his 

 Dog, on purpose to receive it. Having settled the busi- 

 ness to his satisfaction, he tied the bag of money before 

 him, and began to return home. His faithful Dog, as if he 

 entered into his master's feelings, frisked round the horse, 

 barked and jumped, and seemed to participate his joy. 



The merchant, after riding some miles, alighted to re- 

 pose himself under an agreeable shade, and, taking the bag 

 of money in his hand, laid it down by his side, under a 

 hedge, and on remounting, forgot it. The Dog perceived 

 his lapse of recollection, and wishing to rectify it, ran to 

 fetch the bag; but it was too heavy for him to drag along. 

 He then ran to his master, and, by crying, barking, and 

 howling, seemed to remind him of his mistake. The mer- 

 chant understood not his language, but the assiduous crea- 

 ture persevered in its efforts, and, after trying to stop the 

 horse in vain, at last began to bite his heels. 



The merchant, absorbed in some reverie, wholly over- 

 looked the real object of his affectionate attendant's im- 

 portunity, but entertained the alarming apprehension that 

 he was gone mad. Full of this suspicion, in crossing a 

 brook, he turned back to look if the Dog would drink. 



The animal was too intent on his master's business to 

 think of itself; it continued to bark and bite with greater 

 violence than before. 



"Mercy!" cried the afflicted merchant, "it must be 

 so; my poor Dog is certainly mad; what must I do? I 

 must kill him, lest some greater misfortune befal me: 

 but with what regret! Oh, could I find any one to per- 

 form this cruel office for me! but there is no time to lose; 

 I myself may soon become the victim if I spare him." 

 With these words, he drew a pistol from his pocket, and, 

 with a trembling hand, took aim at his faithful servant. 

 He turned away in agony as he fired; but his aim was too 

 sure. The poor animal fell wounded, and, weltering in 

 his blood, still endeavoured to crawl towards his master, 

 as if to tax him with ingratitude. The merchant could not 

 bear the sight; he spurred on his horse with a heart full of 

 sorrow, and lamented that lie had taken a journey which 

 had cost him so dear. Still, however, the money never 

 entered his mind; he only thought of his poor Dog, and 

 tried to console himself with the reflection that he had 

 prevented a greater evil, by despatching a mad animal, 

 than he had suffered a calamity by his loss. This opiate 

 to his wounded spirit, however, was ineffectual. "I am 

 most unfortunate," said he to himself, "I had almost 

 rather lost my money than my Dog." Saying this, he 

 stretched out his hand to grasp his treasure. It was miss- 

 ing! — no bag was to be found. In an instant he opened 

 liis eyes to his rashness and folly. "Wretch that I am! 

 I alone am to blame! I could not comprehend the admo- 

 nition which my innocent and most faithful friend gave me, 

 and I have sacrificed him for his zeal. He only wished to 

 inform me of my mistake, and he has paid for his fidelity 

 with his life." 



Instantly he turned his horse, and went off at full gallop 

 to the place where he had stopped. He saw, with half- 

 averted eyes, the scene where the tragedy was acted; he 

 perceived the traces of blood as he proceeded; he was op- 

 pressed and distracted; but in vain did he look for his 

 Dog, — he was not to be seen on the road. At last he ar- 

 rived at the spot where he had alighted. But what were 

 his sensations ! His heart was ready to bleed ; he execrated 

 himself in the madness of despair. The poor Dog, unable 

 to follow his dear but cruel master, had determined to 

 consecrate his last moments to his service. He had 

 crawled, all bloody as he was, to the forgotten bag, and, in 

 the agonies of death, he lay watching beside it. When he 

 saw his master, he still testified his joy by the wagging of 

 his tail — he could do no more — he tried to rise, but his 

 strength was gone. The vital tide was ebbing fast; even 

 the caresses of his master could not prolong his fate for a 

 few moments. He stretched out his tongue to lick the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



hand that was now fondling him in the agonies of regret, 

 as if to seal forgiveness of the deed that had deprived him 

 of life. He then cast a look of kindness on his master, and 

 closed his eyes for ever. 



From the New-England Galaxy. 



SOME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A 

 SPORTSMAN. 



[Continued from page 66.] 



The genuine Water-fowl Shooting, is no holiday work. 

 It is very much like arming oneself from helm to heel, 

 and of laying in a sufficient stock of resolution, and of 

 "provant" (as Major Dalgetty has it) for a long and ar- 

 duous campaign. The dainty dress, light boots, and short, 

 slight gun of wood-craft or field-shooting, are out of the 

 question. They would not stand the racket, (to employ 

 another popular, but rather coarse phrase) an hour. You 

 must encase your body in warm substantial garments, and 

 incarcerate the lower extremities in high greaves of the 

 toughest leather. The best gun for service is the long, 

 heavy, double-barrel piece, which carries two ounces of 

 shot a good half mile, and neither bruises your shoul- 

 der, nor prostrates you in the recoil. Always give pre- 

 ference to a double-barrel over any species of gun, for it 

 gives you a double chance at the enemy — one "bang" at 

 them as they are cosily swimming on the billow, in happy 

 unconsciousness of peril, and one other " bang" when 

 they start up from their repose in tumult and affright. 

 When they do rise, be not hasty and over-eager, and so 

 destroy good sport, and abuse the goods the " Gods pro- 

 vide thee," through imprudent anxiety — but be cool and 

 collected — cock your gun promptly, but carefully — place 

 the finger on the trigger with due precision — select 

 with a provident eye the most desirable portion of the 

 flock against which direct the sight of the barrel — and 

 then pull away, and if you bring not down as many 

 feathers as you can cleverly carry, then are you a most 

 precious blockhead. Then, if you are shooting from 

 the beach, order in your dog to tow them ashore, (if he is 

 a true animal, he will not wait for the order, but with one 

 grand plunge will seize the nearest bird, although ten yards 

 from shore,) or if you are on the water, up with the " kil- 

 lock," and row toward them. There they lie, scattered 

 over the water, a rare and beautiful picture, which the 

 elated shooter stops not to admire, however, for lo! he has 

 Z 



stretched forth both hands over the gunwale, well employ- 

 ed in gathering in his wealth. Here lies the strong-winged 

 Loon, the imperial cloud-cleaver himself! who was but yes- 

 terday fanning with his broad pinions the clear atmosphere 

 above some snow-covered and far-distant mountain in the 

 untrod regions of the North, or screaming to his now wi- 

 dowed mate around the silent waters of some Polar lake! 

 But no more will his black head be aimed at by the Indian 

 rifle or the savage arrow; and the Indian fisher, whose 

 solitary canoe has often glided by him in the lake of the 

 wilderness, will look for that lonely bird in vain. For his 

 long pilgrimage on the earth has now reached its end, and 

 his red blood is tinging the blue wave that washes the 

 shore of New-England, and his far-travelled wing has 

 been struck motionless by a Yankee musket. 



Beautiful Mallard ! Well might'st thou be vain of that 

 lovely plumage — of those intense hues which rival the rare 

 glories of the breaking dawn, or the decaying twilight of 

 autumn, or the intermingled dyes which tinge the stripes 

 of the showery bow. But, alas! that most venial vanity 

 will be indulged no more, for the red drop of death is 

 trembling on that polished beak, and thy heart's blood is 

 oozing over thy downy bosom. Thine affrighted mate has 

 left thee to breathe out thy last gasp on the billow; and on 

 the wings of fear, (with a broken leg, however!) is now- 

 hastening away with the rest of thy brethren to the distant 

 country of thy destination. jNIany a time will she, while 

 swimming in some remote lagoon with her brood, (thy off- 

 spring) relate the cruel story of thy death, and caution 

 them to make a wide circuit, whenever they shall chance 

 to espy a small suspicious-looking wherry, with a long 

 gun and a rough face peeping over its side, in the waters 

 of Boston Bay. She will caution them to keep farther out 

 to sea along that piratical coast, and thereby avoid that 

 treacherous, picaroonish sort of craft, which there lies in 

 wait, between two billows, ready to pounce upon and pop 

 over the unwary cruiser. 



The Loon, however, is not so easily taken as some young 

 Sportsmen are apt to imagine. If the question is put to 

 you, " will you have him now or wait till you get him," 

 the chances are very considerable in favour of your reply- 

 ing in the language of the latter clause of the query. The 

 invention and use of those prompt little percussion-caps, 

 however, has caused sad havoc among them, of late years, 

 and will have a tendency greatly to diminish their num- 

 bers, unless their sagacity teaches them to use greater cau- 

 tion in their migrations. They have so long been accus- 

 tomed to baffle our tardy flint-locks, that they have grown 

 quite presumptuous, and will suffer the shooter's boat to 

 approach within ten waves of them, when presto! under 

 they go, after the flash, but long before the explosion. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



Indeed, by the time the shot shall have reached the point of 

 their immersion, they have sculled awaj' beneath the sur- 

 face, and under the very boat itself, some hundred or two 

 yards, and presently thrust up their black heads, far astern 

 of the discomfited gunner. But the poor Loon now be- 

 gins to discover that this confounded percussion powder, 

 is much too quick for him, and it will no longer answer 

 for him to rely upon his own celerity against so swift a 

 traveller. This new enemy emits no flash, and drives a 

 score of leaden messengers into him, before he begins to 

 think of moving. 



I remember my first pitched-battle against the Loon. 

 If I had then known the " nature of the beast," as tho- 

 roughly as I do now, I should not have suffered myself to 

 have been foiled in so unequal an encounter. Myself and 

 a brother fowler, (both ardent, though inexperienced gun- 

 ners,) had been traversing the woods for the better part of 

 a long summer's day, and found ourselves about the hour 

 of twilight, on the shore of a broad inland bay, whose 

 sandy border skirted the woods around. Upon entering 

 upon the beach, we were no less surprised than pleased to 

 see two of these large birds, riding silently at anchor within 

 pistol-shot of us. There they were, quietly rocking on 

 the billow, like two gallant ships patiently watching the 

 movements in a blockaded port. Their long crooked 

 necks slowly swung round as we approached, and I could 

 see the sharp, black eye of each cast upon us an inquisitive 

 and fearless glance. Up went our guns to our shoulders, 

 and bang they went with a simultaneous report. When 

 the smoke blew aside, I expected to behold them both keeled 

 over on their sides, well riddled with our shot. But here 

 was a reckoning without mine host. They had both, like 

 the "little Aerial," in the Water Witch, disappeared from 

 the surface of the sea, but whether they had vanished into 

 the air, or had plunged to the bottom of the deep, was a 

 moot point with us. Presently, however, up rose my 

 two gentlemen, for a commodity of fresh air, which they 

 much needed after so long a sojourn among the fishes. My 

 comrade and myself being resolved to give chase to the 

 enemy, eagerly traversed the shore, in search of a wherry, 

 skiff, or water craft of any description, in which to em- 

 bark. In the mean time the enemy were securely riding 

 again at anchor under the lee of a huge black rock, afar off, 

 which rose abruptly from the bosom of the deep, and 

 which the billows for ever encircled with their foamy 

 wreaths. We heard their solitary scream coming from 

 afar over the waters, and it seemed to us like a bold chal- 

 lenge, gallantly sent by the flag of one nation, to that of 

 another hostile land. I thought of the day when the gal- 

 lant Shannon fired her signal-gun on the coast of New- 

 England, and sent in her courteous invitation to the no 



less gallant Chesapeake, then anchored in Boston harbour, 

 to sail forth and do her utmost for the honour of her country. 

 But our feathered challengers had somewhat the advantage 

 of myself and comrade, inasmuch as a great watery gulf 

 intervened between us, and although with the help of their 

 strong wings they might come to us, we could not pass over 

 to them without the aid of a boat. At length we found a 

 small and clumsily-built wherry, lying bottom-upwards, 

 far above high-water mark, which with our united strength 

 we succeeded in launching. But the burning sun of sum- 

 mer had opened in it a thousand gaping seams, through 

 which the element of water entered without opposition. 

 But into it we stowed our persons and guns, which I was 

 commissioned to serve in the battle, while my comrade, in 

 the capacity of crew, sculled away as well as a fragment of 

 an oar would permit, and at the same time bailed out the 

 water, which gained upon us in the hold, with his hat. 

 I ran out both of our pieces of ordnance, and opened a fire 

 upon the enemy when within half gun-shot. But they 

 showed the " white feather," or rather no feather at all, 

 and dove at the flash, and emerged again, a good half mile 

 distant. We pursued, fired again and again, with no 

 better success, till they had allured us nearly out to sea, 

 when they left us to find our way back again, as we could. 

 In the meantime " with one stride came the dark." We 

 ran our little vessel into a sandy cove of a small but beau- 

 tiful island, and there spent the night under a tree in the 

 woods. The isle was uninhabited, so comfortable lodgings 

 and a good civilized supper, were not to be had for love or 

 money, — but we made a fine blazing fire, by means of our 

 guns, and broiled upon it the few birds we had shot, 

 (chiefly wild pigeons) and passed a most merry niglit un- 

 der the green wood tree. Indeed, we lit up a beacon that 

 was seen for miles around, and a grand spectacle did the 

 ruddy flames disclose, casting their glare upon the savage 

 woods around, and the heaving billows of the sea. When 

 the earliest streak of the dawning trembled in the east, we 

 re-embarked, and returned to "the bosom of our afflicted 

 families." M. 



■ MAZEPPA. 



The dreadful punishment inflicted upon the hero of 

 Lord Byron's Poem, has a demoniacal example in a news- 

 paper called " Mercurius Politicus," printed in 1655. The 

 narrative is dated from Hamburg. 



" This last week several wagoners coming from Bres- 

 land to Silesia, on their way into the Duke of Saxony's 

 country, perceived a stag with a man upon his back, run- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



ningwith all his might; coming near the wagons, he sud- 

 denly fell down, the poor man sitting upon his back made 

 a pitiful complaint — how that the day before he was, by 

 the Duke of Saxon)^, for killing a deer, condemned to be 

 bound with chains upon that stag, his feet bound fast un- 

 der the stag's belly with an iron chain soldered, and his 

 hands so chained to the horns. The miserable man beg- 

 ged earnestly that they would shoot him, to put him out 

 of his pain; but they durst not, fearing the Duke. Whilst 

 they were talking with him, the stag got up again, and ran 

 away with all his might. The wagoners computed that he 

 had run in sixteen hours, not less than twenty-six Dutch 

 miles in the least, which makes near one hundred of our 

 English miles. The miseries which that poor creature 

 did and must undergo, especially if the stag killed him not 

 in running, cannot be expressed, hardly imagined." 



INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN. 



In my former communication, I introduced you to the 

 fields, and very unceremoniously left you there, while I 

 reviewed several items, very important in the Sporting con- 

 cern; and, having thus intruded on your patience a little, 

 I must apologize, and resume my remarks on the duties 

 before you. 



The situation I left you in, I believe, was with your 

 dogs at the "down charge," and you loading your gun — 

 this being completed, you may give notice of your readi- 

 ness to the dogs, by using the words, " hie on," or " hold 

 off;" but in no instance permit them to leave your feet, 

 until you have not only completed loading your gun, but 

 also have fixed the cap on the tube — this precaution is ne- 

 cessary, as will appear hereafter. 



Now commence beating the field, with a moderate and 

 regular walk, going in zig-zag directions, until you have 

 reached the extremity. It is requisite that you should 

 always keep moving, and industriously hunt over the 

 ground as well as your dogs — you will in this case be 

 likely to spring a covey of birds,* which may have been 

 passed unnoticed by the dogs, — and your industry tends 

 much to keep up their ambition, especially towards the 



• I allude altogether to the Partridge, — and as this bird is called by 

 different names in different sections of our country, I mean the Part- 

 ridge of Pennsylvania and the Southern States — and the Quail of New- 

 Jersey, New-York, and the Eastern States. In New-York and New- 

 England the Pheasant is called the Partridge. 



close of a laborious day's hunt. Should you have evidence 

 that game is near, slacken your pace, and do not crowd 

 the dogs, but give them every advantage of time and their 

 judgment. Remember you cannot beat a stubble too well; 

 no part of it should be omitted — but every nook and cor- 

 ner tried, until you are convinced no game is there. You 

 are in search of game, and you had better hunt a few fields 

 well, than overrun a large extent of country at a hurried 

 and unsuccessful rate. 



It frequently occurs, that birds do not like to rise before 

 the Sportsman or his dogs, which may be accounted for, 

 either by the tameness of the birds or the dampness of their 

 feathers, and will only avoid an approaching object by 

 merely running aside and squatting, until such noise as 

 alarmed them, has ceased. In this case, a Sportsman must 

 be indefatigable in hunting the ground, as such game, when 

 sprung, generally aflbrds fine sport. Sometimes, on very 

 cold mornings, also. Partridges do not leave their roosts 

 until quite late in the day. I have frequently discovered 

 a covey huddled together in a roosting position before my 

 dog's nose as late as ten o'clock, on severe mornings; con- 

 sequently, there is not so much effluvium arising from them 

 in this quiescent state, as when searching for food among 

 the stubble; — hence the necessity of hunting a field close, 

 and not at all times to depend on the perfection of your 

 dogs to wind the birds at a long distance. A dog will some- 

 times pass within a very few feet to the windward of a co- 

 vey of birds, and not heed them, especially should the wind 

 be high; this every Sportsman knows, — and I am the more 

 convinced of the necessity of adhering to this rule, from 

 several cases which I have experienced; — one in particular 

 may be mentioned, to show the truth of my remarks. 

 One windy afternoon, I was hunting Partridges on ground 

 which had every appearance of containing plenty of that 

 kind of game; part of this was a very extensive wheat 

 stubble, which I had entered but a few minutes, when my 

 dogs soon convinced me game was in the field, or had just 

 left it; but, after they had ranged from side to side to the 

 extremity of the field, without success, I called them 

 in and left it, and hunted several adjoining fields and 

 thickets with the same success. My old dog, " the most 

 faithful of his kind," re-entered the stubble, and ranged it 

 again with the same energy as at first. I however noticed, 

 that about the middle of the field was the spot where the 

 birds had just left, for, on five or six times, the dogs, when- 

 ever unsuccessful in ranging, would return to this very 

 spot, to ascertain and make themselves more sure that the 

 birds had been there. I now thought I had tried every 

 spot, both in the field and in those places adjoining it. I 

 had incontestible evidence that the birds had been there 

 within a short period, but I could not find them. I was 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



at a stand what to do — the dogs were also confounded — 

 while my old dog looked me full in the face, wagged his 

 tail, and then took a survey of the field — and by his dumb 

 expression seemed to say, " the birds are not far off, and 

 must be found." While in this dilemma, the old dog took 

 one more snuff at the spot in the centre of the field, and 

 then started off anew, direct for the fence, — and with cau- 

 tious step, and nose down, he proceeded to scent every 

 inch for the whole circumference of the field, most proba- 

 bly to ascertain whether the birds had run out of it or not, 

 keeping not more than two feet from the fence. He had 

 proceeded nearly around the field, until he came to a cor- 

 ner beside the public road — and while with one paw on 

 the fence, in the act of leaping through it, he snuffed the 

 tainted air, and set the long desired birds; these were 

 lodged in a small tuft of grass, not more than five feet 

 from the corner of the fence; and as appears, suffered the 

 dog to pass within three feet of them without moving; 

 and had he not gone to the windward, and between them 

 and the fence, they would have remained undiscovered. 

 I supposed they must have sprung of their own accord, 

 previous to my entering the field, and after having settled 

 again, remained unmoved, until I flushed them. Two hours 

 had elapsed while hunting these birds, but my persever- 

 ance was rewarded by a large portion of the flock, which 

 would have been lost, had my movements been more rapid. 

 At any rate, it proves that a Sportsman should always 

 move with cautious step, and if he has good dogs,* it is 

 better to trust them nine times out of ten, than his own 

 judgment. 



When you are convinced that you are approaching a 

 covey of birds, be quiet, and let your dogs rather exercise 

 their own judgment, than by attempting to correct a sup- 

 posed error, you make matters worse. Many persons 

 think that it is a necessary part of hunting, to be constantly 

 hallooing at and abusing their dogs. No Sportsman, how- 

 ever, does this; — noise not only confuses dogs, but fright- 

 ens and puts the game on their alert; therefore avoid any 

 thing of the kind, and, as you discover by the slackened 

 pace, and short ranging of the dogs, that they are drawing 

 the game, walk slowly towards them, and soon as they 

 stand, give notice to them of your approach by using the 

 word "To-ho." 



This, now, is the season of the most exciting interest to 

 thd young Sportsman; his nerves evince it, and his heart 

 begins to flutter with anxiety, and it requires no common 



* I have supposed that the Sportsman is in possession of good dogs, 

 as these are the oiost important auxiharies in hunting; — but if he does 

 not possess them, it is useless to attempt a successful excursion. For 

 the manner of educating dogs, see " Treatise on Breaking T)ogs," 

 pages 160 and 186, Vol. I. of this work. 



fortitude to obtain self-command, that he may subdue these 

 feelings. This is common to every beginner, and nothing but 

 much practice will overcome them, and establish the sang 

 froid and self-possession so highly important to success. 

 This trepidation arises altogether from anxiety in the learn- 

 er; he wishes to secure the game, and yet fearful to spring 

 it, lest it should escape, — and he would almost shrink from 

 the effort, as is evident, by his unwillingness to approach 

 the spot. But let me advise the learner, the moment his 

 dogs point, to walk slowly, and with undeviating step, 

 right upon the game, as though he intended to kick them 

 from the ground; but in no instance hurry yourself, — the 

 difference of time between a deliberate, and a hurried 

 walk, over a wide field, would be little over one minute, 

 and the dog must be poor indeed, which would not wait 

 that long for your approach; — besides, when you arrive at 

 the goal, you are not excited by undue exercise, your 

 nerves are more settled, and you feel deliberate — and you 

 also stand less chance of prematurely flushing the covey, 

 than if, by your hurry through the stubble or bushes, you 

 create alarm. Recollect that the earth is a great conduc- 

 tor of sound to objects which lie near its surface, and the 

 brushing of stubble, or the rustling of leaves, will most as- 

 suredly alarm the game, as well as make the dogs impa- 

 tient. 



When within thirty or forty yai-ds of your dogs, set 

 both cocks of your gun, and after you have sprung the 

 game, single out one bird and fire — let your gun fall to 

 the position of carrying it — single out another, bring up 

 your gun, and fire a second time. In all this you may be 

 deliberate, and yet astonishingly quick. 



It is very important how you should carry your gun, 

 especially when cocked, and you in company with a friend. 

 The best and most ready plan is to let the left hand gripe 

 the barrels, the right hand the breech, and the gun lie 

 obliquely across you, with the muzzle elevated in a line 

 with the head, and the butt resting near or against the 

 right hip. This position requires but a little effort to 

 throw the gun to the shoulder; when, if by accident it 

 should be discharged, the contents are thrown harmlessly 

 into the air. 



In recommending you to cock both barrels of your gun, 

 before you flush the game, I am aware that I run counter 

 to the precepts of most writers, and that I come in colli- 

 sion with some (whom I could name) who are ready to 

 reprobate me at once for this advice. But let us hear both 

 sides, before we condemn either. Nearly every work on 

 Sporting which I have read, were produced by English 

 authors; consequently their advice is restricted to the game 

 of their own country. Some of these advise, that when 

 the Sportsman has sprung the game, he must deliberately 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



93 



cock one barrel, and fire — bring down his gun — cock the 

 other barrel, bring it to the shoulder, and fire again. 

 Others recommend the learner, in order to insure delibe- 

 ration, that so soon as the birds have sprung, to speak the 

 words "hold, halt, now!" before firing, intending by this 

 to give time for self-command, and the bird a proper dis- 

 tance. Another relates, in exemplification of his rules, an 

 anecdote of a Frenchman, who was so deliberate in his 

 movements, that after the bird had sprung, he would take 

 from his pocket his snuff-box — take a pinch of snufi" — re- 

 place the box — and then kill his bird. Now, all this 

 looks well enough on paper, and does to give temporary 

 amusement to the reader; but let me tell you, j-oung 

 Sportsman, this cannot be so — and if you are to account 

 yourself proficient in the science of shooting flying, only 

 when you can do these things, you may at once despair of 

 ever becoming a good shot. I can see no use of laying 

 down rules which can never be followed, nor giving ad- 

 vice which the preceptors themselves never follow; it 

 only adds more difficulties, already numerous, to be sur- 

 mounted by the learner, and trammels his way with per- 

 plexities which should never exist. 



It certainly would amuse me much, to have a few excur- 

 sions after the Pheasant and Partridges of this country, 

 with those authors who recommend such rules. I would 

 like to see how often they would exercise them, and with 

 what success. It argues one of two things, viz. that these 

 authors are only theoretically acquainted with shooting, or, 

 that the English game-birds bear no comparison in the 

 velocity of their flight, with those of this country; the lat- 

 ter case, however, is the most probable, — and to prove the 

 fallacy of such rules, permit me to remark, that one of our 

 Partridges, at the most moderate computation, will fly, 

 when in possession of strength, and the vigour of maturity, 

 forty-five feet in a second of time, and a Pheasant sixty 

 feet. Now supposing on an average, the bird will rise from 

 you twenty feet, and the expression of the words, " hold, 

 halt, now," will consume three seconds more, the Par- 

 tridge will have departed a distance of one hundred and 

 fifty-five feet, or upwards of fifty yards, before you shoot 

 — and the Pheasant sixty-seven yards. Now tell me, what 

 success would a Sportsman have, who would follow this 

 rule. It is well enough to avoid all danger, and it would 

 be an excellent thing would Sportsmen never cock their 

 guns until the game has sprung — but as I said before, no one 

 follows it, and a rule is no rule unless it governs in some 

 instances — hence I advise the young Sportsman to adopt the 

 common usage, and if he is careful in other respects, I 

 will vouch that no accident will accrue by cocking his gun 

 prior to starting the game. 



After you have fired, bring your dogs to the " down 

 A A 



charge" again, and without moving from the place put 

 your gun in the attitude of loading, and fix your eyes on 

 the flying game to the utmost stretch, and mark their direc- 

 tion by some standing object. Should not those birds 

 which you fire at fall, it may, as it often has happened, 

 that although mortally wounded, they have gone off in 

 company with their fellows, sometimes to the extremity of 

 their flight, and again but a short distance, and fall dead, 

 which more particularly proves the necessity of watching 

 the birds until their flight is completed, or they are hidden 

 from your view by some intervening object. Should you 

 have discharged but one barrel, do not commence loading 

 again, until you have uncocked your gun, by letting it down 

 upon the tube; and I would impress on you by all means 

 not to remove the broken fragments of the cap from the dis- 

 charged barrel, until after you have reloaded, and are about 

 to put another cap on. This advice will appear more 

 weighty, when I remark, that explosions sometimes occur 

 when the powder is poured from the flask into the empty 

 barrel, in consequence of a spark having remained at the 

 bottom of the barrel: this may be avoided, by not remov- 

 ing the broken cap, inasmuch as the force of the percussion 

 being so great, as generally to drive a portion of the cap 

 into the tube, which so effectually keeps out air, that 

 should a spark have remained in the barrel, it would be- 

 come extinguished as instantaneously by pouring in the 

 powder, as if saturated by water; but, should you remove 

 these broken fragments, and open a passage for the air to 

 circulate freely, it would fan and keep a spark alive, and 

 an explosion would certainly be the consequence: the stop- 

 page of this tube by the copper, acts precisely as the 

 thumb on the touch-hole when firing ordnance. 



I witnessed an explosion but a short time since, which 

 had like to have proved serious, being as I supposed occa- 

 sioned by drawing back the cock, and removing the bro- 

 ken cap; the powder exploded when poured in, burst, and 

 drove the flask from the hand of the shooter to the distance 

 of thirty yards, — but fortunately the only injury was a 

 scorching of the face and hands. Such accidents can only be 

 accounted for on the above principle; for this reason, I con- 

 demn those small vents which appear at the sides of some 

 percussion guns. 



Being prepared a second time, give the dogs the usual 

 sign of readiness, and then follow, in direct line, the flight 

 of the birds. Observe the same gait at all times, and let 

 your dogs quarter the ground well until you reach the de- 

 sired spot. In this way you may recover many a dead bird, 

 which has fallen short of its intended flight, and not unfre- 

 quently encounter another covey. In getting over fences, 

 I have seen the hurried Sportsman accidentally discharge 

 his gun, by having it cocked, and his finger, unheeded by 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 



him, on or just before the trigger, and the exertion re- 

 quired to surmount the fence, would give impulse to his 

 finger, and thus discharge the gun. I have also seen guns 

 discharged by leaping from a fence, when the trigger would 

 strike a small twig, while in the act of jumping. All of 

 this should be avoided, and it only requires forethought 

 and system to lessen these dangers; therefore ascertain at 

 every fence if your gun is uncocked — and then you may 

 either gripe the gun at the breech with the right hand, and 

 put it over the fence first, and use your left for the purpose 

 of climbing; or place your gun first on the opposite side of 

 the fence before you get over; and it would be well when 

 you attempt a post and rail fence, always to go to the right, 

 but close to the post, — you then have a solid place for 

 your feet, and a good purchase for your left hand. I. 



POINTER AND SETTER DOGS, 



OR, WHICH AKE BEST. 



There is a great diversity of opinion, among Sports- 

 men, in regard to the choice of Dogs, — and this arises, not 

 so much from the superiority of one bleed over the 

 other, as from fancy or habit. Tlie relation which a Dog 

 bears to his master, confirms the opinions of the latter 

 as to the merits of that particular breed; and no argument 

 scarcely, or circumstance, will influence him to make a 

 change, or alter his feelings — so firmly are his opinions 

 settled by the continual intercourse with his Dog, and the 

 pleasures enjoyed from his services: hence the tenacity 

 with which some adhere to the Pointer, while others re- 

 gard the Setter as the most superior Dog. 



A man is apt to form his judgment from the qualities of 

 the first Dog he owns; and, as this may prove good or bad, 

 he accordingly approves or condemns the breed. Should 

 this Dog be only of mediocrity, his good parts are admired 

 and magnified, — while his bad qualities, owing to the at- 

 tachment and charitable feelings of his master, are over- 

 looked or suppressed, and being but a novice, he is not 

 acquainted with the requisites which constitute a first rate 

 Dog, or look beyond. the qualities of his Dog for greater 

 perfection. He recollects his more early essays after 

 game, and the gratification he derived at the first point his 

 Dog made, — the admiration of his noble propensities in 

 quartering the fields, and drawing the game, — the infatua- 

 tion excited by killing the first bird, — and the bag of game 

 produced by his energy and the instrumentality of his 

 faithful companion: all these rivet his afliections on his 



Dog, and no matter how much the qualities of other Dogs 

 may be praised by their masters, he feels convinced that 

 his is no way inferior. All of these feelings grow out of first 

 impressions, which proverbially are called " the strong- 

 est;" and should this Dog have been either a Setter or 

 a Pointer, his future choice of that breed to which this 

 animal belonged, to the latest day of his life, is influenced 

 by the retrospection of early enjoyment, so much is judg- 

 ment biased by attachment. 



It may be well to remark, however, that the superiority 

 of one breed of Dogs over the other, maj^ be tested accord- 

 ing to the description of country to be hunted over, and 

 may properly be divided thus: — In open, dry, and moun- 

 tainous districts, especially in a warm climate, preference 

 may be given to the Pointer Dog; — but in low, wet, cold, 

 and woodland countries, the Setter is the most desirable. 

 The former, by reason of the slight covering of hair, and 

 thinness of skin, is not so easily excited by thirst, and can 

 withstand fatigue during warm days longer than the Set- 

 ter, — but the latter being covered by much more hair, is 

 protected from wet, cold, and briars; his feet are thickly 

 matted with hair, and are not liable to be injured by hard 

 or sharp substances protruding from the earth. In conse- 

 quence of this thick covering, his thirst returns fre- 

 quently, which makes it necessary to hunt in the vicinity 

 of water. This also more particularly accounts for this 

 animal's fondness for water, into which, at all times and 

 seasons, he shows a willingness to enter; his covering 

 creates fever; this thirst; and as fleas are generally in num- 

 bers on him, his fondness for the water is more the eflect 

 of necessity than of natural inclination. 



Under these circumstances, then, I think the Setter 

 better adapted for hunting in the United States; the geo- 

 graphical part of it is more suited to his constitution and 

 qualities, and that portion of game usually sought after, 

 being snipe, woodcock, and partridge, and which are 

 mostly found in low-lands and thickets, that, abstractedly 

 from a choice of fancy, it appears to me, to say the least, 

 every Sportsman should be provided with one Setter 

 Dog. 



The Pointer was not used for Sporting purposes until 

 a much later period than the Setter Dog, and it appears 

 was not introduced into England until the beginning 

 of the last century. Indeed, the Setter is supposed to 

 have had its origin in England, and is said by some authors 

 to have been produced, by crossing the Bloodhound with 

 the Land Spaniel, or Springer; while others contend their 

 production to have arisen between the Newfoundland Dog 

 and the Spanish Pointer. The latter, however, is the most 

 probable. But all this is so involved in uncertainty, that it is 

 given as conjecture. The purity of the Pointer, however, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



95 



is well established, being a distinct breed in Spain, Por- 

 tugal, and France. 



A well-formed Setter, is certainly a beautiful Dog; his 

 body is well proportioned; his long, flowing hair gives a 

 softness of expression to the whole figure, — the pendant 

 and silken ears hang gracefully beside the head, which 

 become more interesting when in playful mood, or excited 

 by the words or actions of his master, he elevates and moves 

 them in token of fondness andrespect,^whilethe benignant 

 countenance bespeaks that generosity so prominent in the 

 Newfoundland Dog; and the tail, the prettiest ornament 

 of the animal, completes the finish of the whole. The 

 Pointer is neat and cleanly, but does not possess the grace 

 and playfulness of the Setter. 



I do not think there is much difference in the inherent 

 properties of these two breeds; but there does exist, some- 

 times, a difference, — and this, as has been stated before, is 

 caused more by local circumstances than any thing else. 

 My choice of one in preference to the other, would be 

 governed altogether by the latter, although the best Dogs 

 I ever owned, or indeed ever saw, were Setters. 



When I choose a Dog, I always select one with a broad 

 head — black eyes, and nose, if possible — a nose full and 

 blunt, not straight, but somewhat sunk between the eyes — 

 a high forehead, and a broad chest, — and if he should in- 

 cline to be bony and lank, I make no exception. His 

 colour should be mostly white, with a proportion of dark 

 spots, as he can be seen at a much greater distance through 

 shrubbery or high grass. The fashionable colour now pre- 

 valent, is the brown and yellow Dogs; but I think their 

 popularity will subside, in consequence of the difficulties 

 before mentioned. I do not like the black Dogs, — they look 

 well enough for companions, but they are generally head- 

 strong and savage; mydislike,however,maybeno proof that 

 these qualities exist throughout that kind, although nearly 

 all the black Dogs I ever knew or hunted with, were of the 

 same ungovernable and ferocious dispositions. I have often 

 noticed, that the most hardy and indefatigable Dogs, were 

 those which had a dark brown or iron colour, prevailing 

 sometimes in large and again in small spots, on a dark gray 

 ground, over the whole animal, from the nose to the ex- 

 tremity of the tail. This, however, is a bad colour for the 

 Sportsman. I had a Dog of this description once, — and 

 owing to his colour and staunchness, I was often perplexed, 

 and suffered much loss of time, when hunting with him in 

 thickets; at which time, I have frequently passed within a 

 few feet of him, and pursued my way for half a mile, and 

 then retraced my steps to the last spot I saw him, and re- 

 mained hallooing and calling him from a supposed distance 

 foralongtime, or until I accidentally flushed the game, when 

 I have found myself within perhaps twenty feet of him, at a 



stand, where he had remained unmoved until the game 

 had'sprung; and his colour being so like the faded leaves 

 and other objects, that he was undiscovered by me until 

 he broke from his stand. 



There are some who give preference to those Pointer? 

 or Setters which possess double noses, as they are called, 

 but which in fact is only a separation of the nostrils by a 

 longitudinal groove for a short distance up the nose. This 

 choice must arise more from the singularity and rarity of 

 the animal, than from superior excellence. I have seen 

 several of this description very superior; one especially, of 

 most beautiful proportions and reputed excellence, owned 

 in New-York, by a gentleman and a first rate Sportsman. 



The Pointer, when standing at game, (unless other- 

 wise taught) always keeps himself erect and stiff, with the 

 tail and head usually more elevated than his body, — but 

 the Setter will oftentimes squat on his hinder parts, and 

 sometimes crouch completely on his belly, when coming 

 suddenly on the game, and in this way drag after them 

 until sufficiently near to remain stationary; his head and 

 tail are seldom raised on a level with his back, and it is 

 said by some writers, that they are more inclined to crouch- 

 ing according to the purity of their blood. 



Cross breeds between the Pointer and Setter are con- 

 demned by some, — but for my part, I advocate them, as 

 uniting the qualities of the two, and when both are good, 

 it is reasonable to suppose the offspring will be good also. 



D. 



MY FAVOURITE WALKS. 



Mr. Editor: 



So fond am I of rural things, that I frequently take 

 solitary walks in the neighbourhood of this city, through 

 woods, fields, and secluded lanes, many of which form the 

 most delightful promenades during the present warm wea- 

 ther. My excursions are not very limited, but some- 

 times extend for miles into the country; — this is more 

 generally the case, when I visit our sister state — and it is 

 astonishing how soon the visitor there, m.ay avoid the 

 wearisome bustle of a* great city, and find solitude and 

 calmness in the shady and extensive woods of New-Jer- 

 sey, — where nought but the carols of the most lovely birds, 

 disturb the reigning quietness, save now and then, favour- 

 ed by the western breeze, the hum and confusion of the 

 citv floats swiftly over the waters. 



A Sportsman, (if I may so speak,) from my infancy, I 

 delight more especially to direct my footsteps to the com- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



mon haunts of game, — not unseasonably to destroy, but to 

 admire and observe the progress of this portion of crea- 

 tion, which affords some of earth's best pleasures; and it 

 is of no little satisfaction, that my solitary movements are 

 frequently enlivened by the voice of my favourite bird, 

 the Partridge. But a few days since, during one of my 

 walks, I heard and saw five pairs of these interesting birds, 

 within a mile of one of the ferries opposite Philadel- 

 phia. Whether they had been sustained through the 

 winter by some benevolent hand, or had survived its seve- 

 rities from their own resources, I am not able to say; — 

 but to those who delight in these things, it must be grati- 

 fying to learn of the existence of numbers of these birds; 

 indeed the prospect of game for next winter is favourable — 

 but I fondly hope that Sportsmen will exercise patience 

 and forbearance towards the Partridge for one more year, 

 and let time repair the ravages of past winters; we then shall 

 have our usual fall shooting in plenitude. It is also to be 

 hoped that farmers will avoid the destruction of the nests 

 of these birds, during the harvest season; for, want of care 

 in mowers by cutting over the nest, and sometimes destroy- 

 ing the parent birds, numbers of broods are prevented, 

 which might be avoided by cutting around, and leaving 

 sufficient covering about the nest; the old birds would then 

 rear their young with as much perseverance as though 

 they had not been disturbed. 



Often, too, in the precincts of this city, when passing 

 some retired spot, I startle the Pheasant, which by the 

 wonderful swiftness of its flight, is lost to view in ■ a 

 moment. How closely allied are solitude and the Phea- 

 sant! — and when it occurs that I spring this bird from its 

 shady retreat, although by emerging from the thicket I 

 would be brought in view of the habitations of an hun- 

 dred thousand souls, yet I feel myself removed, far from 

 civilization, to the loneliness of the mountains. 



I have also been much diverted at the timidity and 

 pranks of the Rabbit; these little animals may always be 

 seen at a short distance from town, towards the close of 

 day, when the dazzling influence of the sun cannot afiect 

 their sight, along the paths and by-roads which lead 

 through bush-lands, and beside woods. Frequently, when 

 seated on a stump, or little mound of earth, I have been 

 amused, on the approach of twilight, at the egress of these 

 little creatures from the bushes into the path, — when, by a 

 sudden stop, they will sometimes rise on their hinder-feet, 

 prick forward their suspicious ears, to listen if danger is 

 near, then give a few jumps, and act in this manner again. 

 Should one be intruded on at this time, by another of its 

 kind, a salutation commonly ensues, by a low, growling 

 noise, and a thumping of the earth with their hinder-feet, 

 and after eyeing each other for a few moments, one will 



lead ofl", and, followed quickly by the other, will make a 

 few rapid and circuitous routes through the bushes, and 

 return again to the first spot, and undergo the same cere- 

 mony as before. Sometimes a third coney will present 

 himself, and divide the couple, and interchange salutations 

 with one of the former party. Their actions, I think, are 

 performed more in a playful than an angry mood. 



Such are the little incidents which occur in my favourite 

 walks, and these, as well as a thousand pleasing trifles, 

 may be witnessed, from every bird, that flits from limb to 

 limb, or bush to bush, by the lover of rural things. 



RUSTICUS. 



Philadelphia, June Sth, 1832. 



CATCHING WILD ASSES IN EGYPT. 



On both sides of the path, (midway between Cairo and 

 Surat,) troops of Wild Asses stood looking at us, and seem- 

 ingly unfearful of any hostility, almost inviting our ap- 

 proach. They were beautifully striped, but seemed dull 

 and stupid to a degree greater than that of their kind else- 

 where. I however expected an active scene in their pur- 

 suit, but on the contrary, the manner of catching them is 

 dull, spiritless, and unanimated; and I had nothing to do 

 but look on. To a person of my ardent temperament, 

 this was of course tiresome to the last degree. On a sig- 

 nal being given, an attendant on Suleiman advanced from 

 the train, and drew from his pouch, a bottle filled to the 

 brim with a black muddy liquid, in taste and effect resem- 

 bling opium. This he poured (through a reed, in order to 

 regulate the quantity) on a Papyrus leaf, which he plucked 

 from the road-side, and placed it in a conspicuous situation ; 

 the animals for which it was intended keeping aloof, but 

 attentively regarding our motions. Suleiman then called 

 aloud, " kiuchef osmyn kraal" and we gallopped on 

 about ten paces from the place of our former halt; we stop- 

 ped our camels again, and looked round; the Wild Asses 

 had eagerly advanced towards the spot where the Papyrus 

 lay, and one of them, after a taste, swallowed it altogether. 

 He then snorted, looked wistfully towards us for more, 

 and advanced a few steps, but in a little time fell down 

 stupified from the eflects of his draught. Two or three of 

 our brawniest mamalukes then dismounted, with a huge 

 cloak of leather, and laying the animal in it, carefully tied 

 him up, leaving merely a breathing place, and strapped 

 him on to my camel like a bale of goods; a ceremony at 

 which I could not restrain myself from laughing hear- 

 tily. — Buchanaii's ^^ Letters from the Andaman Con- 

 tinent." 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



97 



ESQUIMAUX DOG. 



Canis familiaris Borealls. — Desmarest. 



[Plate IX. Vol. 2.] 



This variety of the Dog most nearly resembles the Shep- 

 herd's Dog, and the Wolf Dog. The ears are short and 

 erect; the tail is bushy, and carried in a graceful curve 

 over the back: in this particular, the Esquimaux Dog prin- 

 cipally differs from the wolf of the same district, whose 

 tail is carried between his legs in running. The tail 

 turned upward is the distinguishing characteristic of 

 tlie domestic Dog, of every variety. It has been consi- 

 dered by some naturalists, that these Dogs are wolves in a 

 state of domestication. The anatomy of both, for the most 

 part, corresponds; the wolf is, however, larger, and more 

 muscular. The average height of the Esquimaux Dog is 

 one foot, ten inches; the length of the body, from the oc- 

 ciput (the back of the head) to the insertion of the tail, 

 two feet three inches; and of the tail itself, one foot, one 

 inch. Some of the Esquimaux Dogs are brindled, some 

 black and white, some almost entirely black, some of yel- 

 lowish tinge,and some are of a dingy red. Their coat is thick 

 and furry; thehair,in winter, being from three to four inches 

 long: nature has also provided them with an under coating 

 of close soft wool, at that season, which they lose in spring; 

 so that they endure their climate with comparative comfort. 

 They never bark; but have a long melancholy howl, like the 

 wolf. They are familiar and domestic; but snarl and fight 

 amongst themselves, much more than Dogs in general. 



The Esquimaux, a race of people inhaljiting the most 

 northerly parts of the American continent, and the adjoin- 

 ing islands, are dependent upon the services of this faith- 

 ful species of Dog, for most of the few comforts of their 

 lives; for assistance in the chase; for carrying burdens; 

 and for their rapid and certain conveyance over the track- 

 less snows of their dreary plains. The Dogs, subjected to 

 a constant dependance upon their masters, receiving scanty 

 food and abundant chastisement, assist them in hunting 

 the seal, the rein-deer, and the bear. In the summer, a 

 single Dog carries a weight of thirty pounds, in attending 

 his master in the pursuit of game: in winter, yoked in 

 numbers to heavy sledges, they drag five or six persons at 

 the rate of seven or eight miles an hour, and will perform 

 journeys of sixty miles a day. What the rein-deer is to 

 the Laplander, this Dog is to the Esquimaux. He is a 

 faithful slave, who grumbles, but does not rebel; whose 

 endurance never tires, and whose fidelity is never shaken 

 by blows and starving. These animals are obstinate in 

 their nature; but the women, who treat them with more 

 Be 



kindness than the men, and who nurse them in their help- 

 less state, or when they are sick, have an unbounded com- 

 mand over their affections; and can thus catch them at any 

 time, and entice them from their huts, to yoke them to 

 their sledges, even when they are suflering the severest 

 hunger, and have no resource but to eat the most tough 

 and filthy remains of animal matter which they can espy 

 on their laborious journeys. 



The mode in which the Esquimaux Dogs are employed 

 in drawing the sledge, is described in a very striking man- 

 ner, by Captain Parry, in his "Journal of a Second Voy- 

 age for the Discovery of a North-West Passage." 



" When drawing a sledge, the Dogs have a simple har- 

 ness {annod) of deer or seal skin, going round the neck 

 by- one bight, and another for each of the fore legs, with a 

 single thong leading over the back, and attached to the 

 sledge as a trace. Though they appear at first sight to be 

 huddled together without regard to regularity, there is, in 

 fact, considerable attention paid to their arrangement, par- 

 ticularly in the selection of a Dog of peculiar spirit and 

 sagacity, who is allowed, by a longer trace, to precede the 

 rest as leader, and to whom, in turning to the right or 

 left, the driver usually addresses himself. This choice is 

 made without regard to age or sex; and the rest of the Dogs 

 take precedency according to their training or sagacity, 

 the least effective being put nearest the sledge. The 

 leader is usually from eighteen to twenty feet from the 

 fore part of the sledge, and the hindmost Dog about half 

 that distance; so that when ten or twelve are running to- 

 gether, several are nearly abreast of each other. The dri- 

 ver sits quite low, on the fore part of the sledge, with his 

 feet overhanging the snow on one side, and having in his 

 hand a whip, of which the handle, made either of wood, 

 bone, or whalebone, is eighteen inches, and the -lash more 

 than as many feet, in length; the part of the thong next the 

 handle is platted a little way down to stiffen it, and give it 

 a spring, on which much of its use depends; and that which 

 composes the lash is chewed by the women to make it 

 flexible in frosty weather. The men acquire from their 

 youth considerable expertness in the use of this whip, the 

 lash of which is left to trail along the ground by the side of 

 the sledge, and with which they can inflict a very severe 

 blow on any Dog at pleasure. Though the Dogs are kept 

 in training entirely by fear of the whip, and, indeed, 

 without it, would soon have their own way, its immediate 

 effect is always detrimental to the draught of the sledge; 

 for not only does the individual that is struck, draw back 

 and slacken his trace, but generally turns upon his next 

 neighbour, and this passing on to the next, occasions a 

 general divergency, accompanied by the usual yelping and 

 showing of the teeth. The Dogs then come together again 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



by degrees, and the draught of the sledge is accelerated; 

 but even at the best of times, by this rude mode of draught, 

 the traces of one-third of the Dogs form an angle of thirty 

 or forty degrees on each side of the direction in which the 

 sledge is advancing. Another great inconvenience attend- 

 ing the Esquimaux method of putting the Dogs to, besides 

 that of not employing their strength to the best advantage, 

 is the constant entanglement of the traces by the Dogs re- 

 peatedly doubling under from side to side to avoid tlie 

 whip; so that, after running a few miles, the traces always 

 require to be taken off and cleaned. 



" In directing the sledge, the whip acts no very essen- 

 tial part, the driver for this purpose using certain words, 

 as the carters do with us, to make the Dogs turn more to 

 the right or left. To these a good leader attends \yith 

 admirable precision, especially if his own name be repeated 

 at the same time, looking behind over his shoulder with 

 great earnestness, as if listening to the directions of the 

 driver. On a beaten track, or even where a single foot or 

 sledge-mark is occasionally discernible, there is not the 

 slightest trouble in guiding the Dogs: for even in the 

 darkest night, and in the heaviest snow-drift, there is lit- 

 tle or no danger of their losing the road, the leader keep- 

 ing iiis nose near the ground, and directing the rest with 

 wonderful sagacity. Where, however, there is no beaten 

 track, the best driver among them makes a terribly circui- 

 tous course, as all the Esquimaux roads plainly show; 

 these generally occupying an extent of six miles, when, 

 with a horse and sledge, the journey would scarcely have 

 amounted to five. On rough ground, as among hummocks 

 of ice, the sledge would be frequently overturned, or alto- 

 gether stopped, if the driver did not repeatedly get off, 

 and by lifting or drawing it to one side, steer clear of 

 those accidents. At all times, indeed, except on a smooth 

 and well made road, he is pretty constantly employed 

 thus with his feet, which, together with his never-ceasing 

 vociferations, and frequent use of the whip, renders the 

 driving of one of these vehicles by no means a pleasant or 

 easy task. When the driver wishes to stop the sledge, 

 he calls out 'Wo, woa,' exactly as our carters do, but the 

 attention paid to this command depends altogether on his 

 ability to enforce it. If the weight is small, and the jour- 

 ney homeward, the Dogs are not to be thus delayed; the 

 driver is therefore obliged to dig his heels into the snow 

 to obstruct their progress, and having thus succeeded in 

 stopping them, he stands up with one leg before the fore- 

 most cross-piece of the sledge, till by means of laying the 

 whip gently over each Dog's head, he has made them all 

 lie down. He then takes care not to quit his position, so 

 that should the Dogs set off, he, is thrown upon the sledge 

 instead of being left behind by them. 



"With heavy loads, the Dogs draw best with one of 

 their own people, especially a woman, walking a little 

 way a-head; and in this case they are sometimes enticed 

 to mend their pace by holding a mitten to the mouth, and 

 then making the motion of cutting it with a knife, and 

 throwing it on the snow, when the Dogs, mistaking it for 

 meat, hasten forward to pick it up. The women also en- 

 tice them from the huts in a similar manner. The rate at 

 which they travel depends, of course, on the weight they 

 have to draw, and the road on which their journey is per- 

 formed. When the latter is level, and very hard and smooth, 

 constituting what, in other parts of North America, is 

 called ' good sleighing,' six or seven Dogs will draw from 

 eight to ten hundred weight, at the rate of seven or eight 

 miles an hour, for several hours together; and will easily, 

 under these circumstances,' perform a journey of fifty or 

 sixty miles a day. On untrodden snow, five and twenty 

 or thirty miles would be a good day's journey. The same 

 number of well-fed Dogs, with a weight of only five or sis 

 hundred pounds, (that of the sledge included,) are almost 

 unmanageable, and will, on a smooth road, run any way 

 they please, at the rate of ten miles an hour. The work 

 performed by a greater number of Dogs is, however, by 

 no means in a proportion to this, owing to the imperfect 

 mode already described, of employing the strength of 

 these sturdy creatures, and to the more frequent snarling 

 and fighting occasioned by an increase of numbers." 



The Dogs of the Esquimaux offer to us a striking example 

 of the great services which the race of Dogs has rendered to 

 mankind in the progress of civilization. The inhabitants of 

 the shores of Balfin's Bay, and of those still more incle- 

 ment regions to which discovery ships have recently pene- 

 trated, are perhaps never destined to advance much farther 

 than their present condition in the scale of humanity. 

 Their climate forbids them attempting the gratification of 

 any desires beyond the commonest animal wants. In the 

 short summers, they hunt the rein-deer for a stock of food 

 and clothing; during the long winter, when the stern de- 

 mands of hunger drive them from their snow-huts, to search 

 for provisions, they still find a supply in the rein-deer, in 

 the seals, which lie in holes under the ice of the lakes, 

 and in the bears which prowl about on the frozen shores of 

 the sea. Without the exquisite scent and the undaunted 

 courage of their Dogs, the several objects of their chase 

 could never be obtained in suiBcient quantities, during the 

 winter, to supply the wants of the inhabitants; nor could 

 the men be conveyed from place to place over tlie snow, 

 with that celerity which greatly contributes to their suc- 

 cess in hunting. In drawing the sledges, if the Dogs 

 scent a single rein-deer, even a quarter of a mile distant, 

 they gallop off furiously in the direction of the scent: and 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



the animal is soon witliin the reach of the unerring arrow 

 of the hunter. They will discover a seal-hole entirely by 

 the smell, at a very great distance. Their desire to attack 

 the ferocious bear is so great, that the word nennook, 

 which signifies that animal, is often used to encourage 

 them, when running in a sledge: two or three Dogs, led 

 forward by a man, will fasten upon the largest bear with- 

 out hesitation. They are eager to chase every animal but 

 the wolf; and of him they appear to have an instinctive 

 terror, which manifests itself, on his approach, in a loud 

 and long-continued howl. Certainly there is no animal 

 which combines so many properties useful to his master 

 as the Dog of the Esquimaux. 



With the exception of that most serviceable property of 

 drawing and carrying burthens, most of the various races 

 of Dogs have, in a similar manner, assisted mankind in 

 subduing many wild beasts of the earth. This result, 

 without which civilization must have very slowly ad- 

 vanced, could not have been effected without the assist- 

 ance of the Dog. Cuvier, the great French naturalist, 

 says, "the Dog is the most complete, the most remark- 

 able, and the most useful conquest ever made by man. 

 Every species has become our property; each individual is 

 altogether devoted to his master, assumes his manners, 

 knows and defends his goods, and remains attached to him 

 until death, and all this proceeds neither from want nor 

 constraint, but solely from true gratitude and real friend- 

 ship. The swiftness, the strength, and the scent of the 

 Dog, have created for man a powerful ally against other 

 animals, and were perhaps necessary to the establishment 

 of society. He is the only animal which has followed man 

 through every region of the earth." Buffon says, "the 

 art of training Dogs seems to have been the first invented 

 by man; and the result of it was the conquest and peace- 

 able possession of the earth." But this art would never 

 have become perfectly successful and completely univer- 

 sal, had there not been in the race of Dogs a natural desire 

 to be useful to man; an aptitude for his society; a strong 

 and spontaneous longing for his friendship. Burchell, a 

 distinguished traveller in Africa, has observed, that we 

 never see in various countries an equal familiarity with 

 other quadrupeds, according to the habits, the taste, or the 

 caprices of different nations; and he thence concludes, that 

 the universal friendship of the man and the Dog, must be 

 the result of the laws of nature. With singular propriety, 

 therefore, has the name Canis familiaris been assigned 

 by Linnajus to the species. 



The Dogs of the Esquimaux lead always a fatiguing, 

 and often a very painful life. They are not, like the Sibe- 

 rian Dogs, (to which they bear a considerable resem- 

 blance,) turned out in the summer to seek their own sus- 



tenance: at that period they are fat and vigorous; for they 

 have abundance of kaow, or the skin and part of the blub- 

 ber of the walrus. But their feeding in winter is very 

 precarious. Their masters have but little to spare; and 

 the Dogs become miserably thin, at a time when the se- 

 verest labour is imposed upon them. It is not, therefore, 

 surprising that the shouts and blows of their drivers have no 

 effect in preventing them from rushing out of their road, 

 to pick up whatever they can descry; or that they are con- 

 stantly creeping into the huts, to pilfer any thing within 

 their reach: their chances of success are but small; for the 

 people within the huts are equally keen in the protection 

 of their stores, and they spend half their time in shouting 

 out the names of the intruders (for the Dogs have all 

 names,) and in driving them forth by the most unmerciful 

 blows. This is a singular, but, from the difference of 

 circumstances, not unnatural contrast to the treatment of 

 Dogs described in Homer. The princes of the Trojan 

 war allowed their Dogs to wait under their tables, to 

 gather up the remains of their feasts. In the twenty-third 

 book of the Iliad, it is mentioned that Patroclus had no 

 fewer than nine such humble retainers. The same princes, 

 too, we learn in the tenth book of the Odysse}^, carried 

 home to their Dogs the fragments which fell from the ta- 

 bles of their entertainers. Amongst these fragments were 

 the soft and fine parts of bread, called upomagduUu, with 

 which the guests wiped their fingers when the meal was 

 finished, and which were always a perquisite to the Dogs. 

 In allusion, probably, to this custom, the woman of Ca- 

 naan says, " the Dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from 

 their master's table." 



The hunger which the Esquimaux Dogs feel so severely 

 in winter, is somewhat increased by the temperature they 

 live in. In cold climates, and in temperate ones in cold 

 weather, animal food is required in larger quantities than 

 in warm weather, and in temperate regions. The only 

 mode which the Dogs have of assuaging or deceiving the 

 calls of hunger, is by the distention of the stomach with 

 any filth which they can find to swallow. The wolves 

 and rein-deer of the polar countries, when pressed by hun- 

 ger in the winter, devour clay. The Kamschatkans , 

 sometimes distend their stomachs with saw-dust. Hum- 

 boldt relates that the Otomacs, during the periodical inun- 

 dations of the rivers of South America, when the depth of 

 the water prevents their customary occupation of fishing, 

 appease their hunger, even for several months, by swallow- 

 ing a fine unctuous clay, slightly baked. Many other in- 

 stances of this nature are given in Dr. EUiotson's learned 

 and amusing Notes to his edition of Blumenbach's Physi- 

 ology. The painful sense of hunger is generally regarded 

 as the effect of the contraction of the stomach, which ef- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



feet is constantly increased by a draught of cold liquid. 

 Captain Parry mentions that in winter the Esquimaux 

 Dogs will not drink water, unless it happens to be oily. 

 They know, by experience, that their cravings would be 

 increased by this indulgence, and they lick some clean 

 snow as a substitute, which produces a less contraction of 

 the stomach than water. Dogs, in general, can bear hun- 

 ger for a very long time, without any serious injury, hav- 

 ing a supply of some substance for the distention of their 

 stomachs. It is mentioned in the Memoirs of the French 

 Academy of Sciences, that a bitch which had been shut 

 up and forgotten in a countr3'-house, was sustained for 

 forty days without any nourishment beyond the wool of 

 a quilt, which she had torn in pieces. A Dog has been 

 known to live thirty-six days without food, or substitute 

 for food. 



We have already noticed that the Esquimaux Dogs do 

 not bark. This is a peculiarity of many varieties of the 

 Dog; but very rarely of those which are natives of tempe- 

 rate countries. Probably this is an effect of high as well 

 as of low temperature. Sonnini says, that the people of 

 Upper Egypt have a species of Dog resembling the Shep- 

 herd's Dog, with voices so weak, that their barking can 

 scarcely be heard. Columbus observed, that the voices of 

 the Dogs which he took to the West Indies became feeble. 

 In both cases the tropical climate probably produced this 

 result. The prophet Isaiah alludes to this peculiarity, in 

 his denunciation of idle instructors: " They are dumb Dogs, 

 and cannot bark." 



The Newfoundland Dogs, one of the most active and 

 sagacious varieties, are employed in their native districts 

 to draw carts and sledges, laden with wood and fish, and 

 to perform a variety of useful offices in the place of the 

 horse. In many of the northern countries, the bold and 

 powerful races of Dogs are thus rendered peculiarly valua- 

 ble. A century ago, nearly all the travelling intercourse 

 of Canada was carried on by Dogs. The superiority of the 

 Newfoundland Dogs in swimming is well known: they 

 are semi-webbed between the toes, which mechanism of 

 the foot is of the greatest advantage to them; presenting, 

 as it does, an extended surface to press away the water 

 from behind, and then collapsing, when it is drawn for- 

 ward, previous to making the stroke. The hereditary 

 habits of these Dogs, too, eminently qualify them for 

 swimming, or rowing through the water, as the action is 

 more correctly described by Sir Everard Home. It is 

 thus that we have the most abundant instances of human 

 life being saved by these generous and courageous animals. 

 All Dogs, however, can swim; although some dislike the 

 water, and take to it with difficulty at the bidding of their 

 masters. The Bull Dog would appear the least likely to 



combat with a heavy sea, as the Newfoundland Dogs often 

 do; and yet the following circumstance is well authenti- 

 cated: — On board a ship, which struck upon a rock near 

 the shore during a gale, there were three Dogs, two of the 

 Newfoundland variety, and an English Bull Dog, rather 

 small in growth, but very firml}^ built, and strong. It 

 was important to have a rope carried ashore: and as no 

 boat could live for an instant in the breakers towards the 

 land, it was thought that one of the Newfoundland Dogs 

 might succeed; but he was not able to struggle with the 

 waves, and perished. The other Newfoundland Dog, upon 

 being thrown overboard with the rope, shared a similar 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. 



[Lib. Ent. Knoivl. 



MICROSCOPIC VIEW OF SPIDERS WEAVING 

 THEIR WEBS. 



Of all the beautiful discoveries with which we have 

 become acquainted, through the progress of the physical 

 sciences, there are none more striking than those of the 

 microscope, or which may be studied with greater ease. 

 The application of a powerful lens to any of those minute 

 objects which we have it daily in our power to examine, 

 exhibits a scene of wonder, of which those who have 

 never witnessed it cannot form an adequate idea. 



For example, the construction of Cobwebs has in all 

 ages been lightly esteemed: nevertheless, for simplicity of 

 machinery and neatness of execution, they cannot be sur- 

 passed by the art of man. The spinners are the apparatus 

 through which, by a most wonderful process, the spider 

 draws its thread. Each spinner is pierced, like the plate 

 of a wire-drawer, with a multitude of holes, so numerously 

 and exquisitely fine, that a space often not bigger than a 

 pin's point includes above a thousand. Through each of 

 these holes proceeds a thread of an inconceivable tenuity, 

 which, immediately after issuing from the orifice, unites 

 with all the other threads, from the same spinner into one. 

 Hence from each spinner proceeds a compound thread: 

 and these four threads, at the distance of about one-tenth 

 of an inch from the apex of the spinner, again unite, and 

 form the thread we are accustomed to see, which the spi- 

 der uses in forming its web. Thus a spider's web, even 

 spun by the smallest species, and when so fine that it is 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



101 



almost imperceptible to our senses, is not, as we suppose, 

 a single line, but a rope composed of at least four thousand 

 strands. But to feel all the wonders of this fact, we must 

 follow Leuwenhoeck in one of his calculations on the sub- 

 ject. This renowned microscopic observer found, by an 

 accurate estimation, that the threads of the minutest spi- 

 ders, some of which are not larger than a grain of sand, 

 are so fine, that four millions of them would not exceed 

 in thickness one of the hairs of his beard! Now we know 

 that each of these threads is composed of above 4,000 

 still finer. It follows, therefore, that above 16,000 miL 

 lions of the finest threads which issue from such spiders, 

 are not, altogether, thicker than a human hair. 



In the earlier part of last century, Bon of Languedoc, 

 fabricated a pair of stockings and a pair of gloves from the 

 threads of spiders. They were nearly as strong as silk, 

 and of a beautiful gray colour! 



THE HORSE. 



[Concluded from page 82.] 



The Race Horse. 



"There is much dispute with regard to the origin of 

 the thorough-bred Horse. By some he is traced through 

 both sire and dam to Eastern parentage; others believe 

 him to be the native Horse, improved and perfected by ju- 

 dicious crossing with the Barb, the Turk, or the Arabian. 



It must, on the whole, be allowed, that the present tho- 

 rough-bred Horse is of foreign extraction, improved and 

 perfected by the influence of the climate, and by diligent 

 cultivation. There are some exceptions, as in the case of 

 Sampson and Bay-Malton, in each of whom, although the 

 best Horses of their day, there was a cross of vulgar blood; 

 but they are only exceptions to a general rule. 



It must not be objected, that the number of Eastern 

 Horses imported is far too small to produce so numerous a 

 progeny. It will be recollected that the thousands of 

 wild Horses on the plains of South America, descended 

 from only two stallions and four mares, which the early 

 Spanish adventurers left there. 



Whatever m.ay be the truth as to the origin of the Race 

 Horse, the strictest attention has for the last fifty years 

 been paid to pedigree. In the descent of almost every 

 modern racer, not the slightest flaw can be discovered; or 

 when, with the splendid exception of Sampson and Bay- 

 Malton, one drop of common blood has mingled with the 

 Cc 



pure stream, it has been immediately detected in the infe- 

 riority of form, and deficiency of bottom; and it has re- 

 quired two or three generations to wipe away the stain, 

 and get rid of its consequences. 



The Racer is generally distinguished by his beautiful 

 Arabian head; — his fine, and finely-set-on-neck; — his 

 oblique, lengthened shoulders, — well-bent hinder-legs, — 

 his ample, muscular quarters; — his flat legs, rather short 

 from the knee downwards, although not always so deep as 

 they should be; — and his long and elastic pastern. 



The Racer, however, with the most beautiful form, is oc- 

 casionally a sorry animal. There is sometimes a want of 

 energy in an apparently faultless shape, for which there is 

 no accounting; but there are two points among those just 

 enumerated, which will rarely or never deceive — a well- 

 placed shoulder, and a well-bent hinder leg. 



The Darley Arabian. 



The Darley Arabian was the parent of the Racing 

 stock. He was purchased by Mr. Barley's brother, at 

 Aleppo, and was bred in the neighbouring desert of Pal- 

 m3'ra. His figure contains every point, without much 

 show, which could be desired in a Turf Horse. 



The immediate descendants of this invaluable Horse, 

 were the Devonshire or Flying Childers; the Bleeding or 

 Bartlett's Childers, who was never trained; Almanzor, 

 and others. 



The two Childers were the means through which the 

 blood and fame of their sire were widely circulated, 

 and from them descended another Childers, Blaze, Snap, 

 Sampson, Eclipse, and a host of excellent Horses. 



Flying Childers. 



The Devonshire or Flying Childers, so called from the 

 name of his breeder, Mr. Childers, of Carr-House, and 

 the sale of him to the Duke of Devonshire, was the fleetest 

 Horse of his day. He was at first trained as a hunter, but 

 the superior speed and courage which he discovered, 

 caused him to be soon transferred to the Turf. Common 

 report affirms, that he could run a mile in a minute; but 

 there is no authentic record of this. Childers ran over the 

 round course at Newmarket (three miles, six furlongs, and 

 ninety-three yards) in six minutes and forty seconds, and 

 the Beacon course, (four miles, one furlong, and one hun- 

 dred and thirty-eight yards,) in seven minutes and thirty 

 seconds. 



In October, 1741, at the Curragh meeting in Ireland, 

 Mr. Wilde engaged to ride one hundred and twenty-seven 

 miles in nine hours. He performed it in six hours and 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



twenty-one minutes. He employed ten horses, and, allow- 

 ing for mounting and dismounting, and a moment for re- 

 freshment, he rode for six hours at the rate of twenty 

 miles an hour. 



Mr. Thornhill, in 1745, exceeded this, for he rode from 

 Stilton to London and back, and again to Stilton, being 

 two hundred and thirteen miles, in eleven hours and thirty- 

 four minutes, which is, after allowing the least possible 

 time for changing Horses, twenty miles an hour for eleven 

 hours, and on the turnpike road and uneven ground. 



Mr. Shaftoe, in 1762, with ten Horses, and five of them 

 ridden twice, accomplished fifty miles and a quarter, in 

 one hour and forty-nine minutes. In 1763, Mr. Shaftoe 

 won a more extraordinary match. He was to procure a 

 person to ride one hundred miles a day, on any one Horse 

 each day, for twenty-nine days together, and to have any 

 number of Horses not exceeding twenty-nine. He accom- 

 plished it on fourteen Horses, and on one day he rode one 

 hundred and sixty miles, on account of the tiring of his 

 first Horse. 



Mr. Hull's Quibbler, however, afforded the most extra- 

 ordinary instance on record, of the stoutness as well as 

 speed of the Race Horse. In December, 1786, he ran 

 twenty-three miles round the flat at Newmarket, in fifty- 

 seven minutes and ten seconds. 



Eclipse. {English.) 



Eclipse was got by Marsk, a grandson of Bartlett's 

 Childers. 



Of the beauty, yet peculiarity of his form, much has 

 been said. The very great size, obliquity, and lowness of 

 his shoulders, were the objects of general remark — with 

 the shortness of his fore-quarters, his ample and finely 

 proportioned quarters, and the swelling muscles of his 

 fore-arm and thigh. Of his speed, no correct estimate 

 can be formed, for he never met with an opponent suffi- 

 ciently fleet to put it to the test. 



He was bred by the Duke of Cumberland, and sold at 

 his death to Mr. Wildman, a sheep salesman, for seventy- 

 five guineas. Colonel O'Kelly purchased a share of him 

 from Wildman. In the spring of the following year, 

 when the reputation of this wonderful animal was at its 

 height, O'Kelly wished to become sole owner of him, and 

 bought the remaining share for one thousand pounds. 



Eclipse was what is termed a thick-winded Horse, and 

 puffed and roared so as to be heard at a considerable dis- 

 tance. For this or some other cause, he was not brought 

 on the Turf until he was five years old. 



O'Kelly, aware of his Horse's powers, had backed him 

 freely on his first race in May, 1769. This excited cu- 



riosity, or perhaps, roused suspicion, and some persons 

 attempted to watch one of his trials. Mr. John Lawrence 

 says, that " they were a little too late; but they found an 

 old woman who gave them all the information they want- 

 ed. On inquiring whether she had seen a race, she replied, 

 that " she could not tell whether it was a race or not, but 

 that she had just seen a Horse with white legs running 

 away at a monstrous rate, and another Hor.se a great way 

 behind, trying to run after him; but she was sure he never 

 would catch the white-legged Horse if he ran to the 

 world's end. 



The first heat was easily won, when O'Kelly, observing 

 that the rider had been pulling at Eclipse during the whole 

 of the race, offered a wager that he placed the Horses in 

 the next heat. This seemed a thing so highly improbable, 

 that he immediately had bets to a large amount. Being 

 called on to declare, he replied, "Eclipse first, and the 

 rest no where!" The event justified his prediction: all 

 the others were distanced by Eclipse with the greatest 

 ease; or, in the language of the Turf, they had no place. 



In the spring of the following year, he beat Mr. Went- 

 worth's Bucephalus, who had never before been con- 

 quered. Two days afterwards he distanced Mr. Strode's 

 Pensioner, a very good Horse: and, in the August of the 

 same year, he won the great subscription at York. No 

 Horse daring to enter against him, he closed his short ca- 

 reer of seventeen months, by walking over the Newmar- 

 ket course for the king's plate, on October the ISth, 1770. 

 He was never beaten, nor ever paid forfeit, and won for 

 his owner more than twenty-five thousand pounds." 



.American Eclipse,* 



" Is a chesnut Horse, with a star, and the near hind 

 foot white; 15 hands 3 inches high; possessing a large 

 share of bone and muscle, and excelling all the Racers of 

 the day in the three great essentials of speed — stoutness or 

 lastingness, and ability to carry weight. He was foaled 

 on the 25th of May, 1814, at Dusoris, Long Island, on the 

 farm of the late Gen. Nathaniel Coles. At five montha 

 old, while a suckling, he gave his owner such a sample of 

 stride, strength, and speed, that he was at that time named 

 'American Eclipse.' He was sired by Duroc; his dam 

 Miller's Damsel, by Messenger; his grandam the English 

 mare PotSos, imported in 1795, then three years old, by 

 William Constable, Esq. and bred by Lord Grosvenor; 

 sired by PotSos, and PotSos by the celebrated Horse 

 'Eclipse,' — his g. g. dam by Gimcrack; Gimcrack by 

 Cripple, and Cripple by the Arabian of Lord Godolphin. 



• E.xtracted from the American Turf Register. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



103 



While a colt he was not confined, but during the win- 

 ter season turned out every fair day. He was first shod in 

 the spring, when three years old. 



In June, 1819, he won the Jockey Club's purse of §500, 

 running the four mile heats over the Bath course, beating 

 Mr. Purdy's Horse Little John, by the Virginia Poto- 

 mac, Mr. Bond's Horse Eclipse, by First Consul; and Mr. 

 Potter's Horse, James Fitz James, by Sir Archy. 



In October, 1819, he again ran the four mile heats at 

 Bath, winning the purse of ^500, beating Mr. Purdy's 

 Horse, Little John, Mr. Schenck's Horse, Fearnought, and 

 Mr. Bond's Colt; the two latter being withdrawn the se- 

 cond heat. The Bath course measured fifteen links over 

 a mile: the first heat of this race was run in eight minutes 

 and thirteen seconds, and the second in eight minutes and 

 eight seconds. 



In the spring of 1820, Eclipse stood to mares on Long 

 Island, at iSl2 50 the season. In the spring of 1821, he 

 again covered as a common stallion, at §12 50 the season, 

 and covered eighty-seven mares, nor was it contemplated 

 to bring him again upon the Turf, — but the legislature 

 of the state of New-York having new-modelled the law re- 

 specting Racing, and a society being re-organized specially 

 for the improvement of our breed of Horses, Mr. Van Ranst 

 was induced again to put Eclipse in training for the four mile 

 heats to be run over the New Union course, eight miles from 

 Brooklyn, and near the Jamaica turnpike, in Oct. of that year. 



From an opinion, long entertained by Sportsmen, that 

 covering renders a Horse unfit for the race, the friends of 

 Eclipse questioned the policy of again running him; but 

 the event proved that, so far as he was concerned, the opi- 

 nion was unfounded. 



The races commenced the 15th of October, 1S21, when 

 four Horses started for the purse of §500, to run the four 

 mile heats: viz. American Eclipse, Mr. Sleeper's brown 

 mare, 'Lady Lightfoot,' by 'Sir Archy;' Mr. Schenck's 

 Horse, 'Flag of Truce,' by 'Sir Solomon;' and Mr. 

 Schomp's Horse, ' Heart of Oak.' The two last named 

 Horses were drawn after the first heat, and ' Lady Light- 

 foot' was distanced in the second, being nine years old — 

 she had run upwards of twenty races, some very severe 

 ones, and was out of order. 



The bets at starting, were two to one on the mare. The 

 mare led until the last quarter of the first heat, when 

 Eclipse passed her, coming in two lengths ahead. In the 

 second heat, Eclipse passed her in running the third mile, 

 and from that time left her alone. The time was, first 

 heat, eight minutes and four seconds; the second heat, 

 eight minutes and two seconds, and the course measured 

 thirty feet over a mile. 



In the fcjllowing week, Eclipse was exhibited at the an- 



nual exhibition of the New- York County Agricultural So- 

 ciety, and received the Society's first premium, §50, for 

 the best stallion. 



In May, 1822, Eclipse won the purse of §700 for four 

 mile heats at the Union course, beating Mr. Badger's five 

 year old Horse, Sir Walter, by Hickory. A bet of consi 

 derable amount was made by the owners of the two 

 Horses on the first heat, which, with the second heat, was 

 won by Eclipse. Time, first heat, seven minutes and 

 fifty-four seconds; second heat, eight minutes. 



In October, 1822, he again ran the four mile heats at the 

 Union course, for the §1000 purse, which he won, beating 

 a second time, Mr. Badger's Horse, Sir Walter; Mr. 

 Sleeper's bay mare, the Duchess of Marlborough, by Sir 

 Archy, and Mr. Jackson's mare. Slow and Easy, by Duroc. 

 The first heat was run in seven minutes and fifty-eight 

 seconds, when the two mares were withdrawn, and Sir 

 Walter stopping short in the second heat. Eclipse came in 

 at his leisure. A day or two previous to this race, a chal- 

 lenge appeared in the New-York papers, by Mr. James J. 

 Harrison, of Brunswick, (Va.) in which he oflered to 'run 

 Sir Charles against the American Eclipse, over the Wash- 

 ington course, four mile heats, agreeably to the rules of 

 the course, for five or ten thousand dollars.' This chal- 

 lenge was promptly accepted by Mr. Van Ranst, who, as 

 two sums were named by Mr. Harrison, chose the great- 

 est, that the object of the contest might correspond with 

 the fame of the Horses. 



The forfeit money, §5000 each, having been deposited, 

 the time for running was fixed for the 20th of November. 

 At the hour of starting, both Horses were brought out, and 

 the riders mounted; but instead of running agreeably to 

 the challenge, Mr. Harrison gave notice that as his Horse 

 had met with an accident, he would pay the forfeit. He 

 at the same time proposed to run a single four mile heat, 

 for §1500 each, which being instantly agreed to, both 

 Horses started. Eclipse taking the lead. On the last round, 

 Sir Charles broke down. The two first rounds were run 

 in one minute and fifty-five seconds each, and the heat in 

 eight minutes and four seconds. In this race. Sir Charles 

 carried 120 lbs.; Eclipse 126 lbs. 



In the evening of the same day, William R. Johnson, 

 Esq. of Petersburg, Va. offered to produce a Horse on the 

 last Tuesday in May, 1823, to run the four mile heats 

 against Eclipse, over the Union course, on Long Island, 

 agreeably to the rules of that course, for §20,000 a side, 

 §3000 forfeit. 



This challenge was immediately accepted by Mr. John 

 C. Stephens; in consequence of which Col. Johnson, on 

 the day mentioned, appeared on the race with a four year 

 old chesnut colt called Henry, (John Richards, intended for 




104 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



the race, having heen lamed,) about fifteen hands and one 

 inch high, which had been bred by Mr. Lemuel Long, 

 near Halifax, North Carolina. Henry was sired by Sir 

 Archy; his dam by Diomedjher dam by Bell-Air; hers by 

 Pilgrim; hers by Valiant; hers by Janus; hers by Jolly 

 Roger — imported Horses. About half past 12 o'clock, 

 both Horses started. Eclipse was rode by Wm. Crafts; 

 Henry by a young lad. Henry took the lead, and main- 

 tained it through the heat. They came in together, Henry 

 beating Eclipse by half a length, but apparently 'hard 

 in hand.' — Bets on the second heat three to one on 

 Henry. 



During the second heat, Eclipse was rode by Mr. Purdy. 

 Henry again took the lead, and kept it until the last quar- 

 ter of the third mile, when Purdy made a push, and 

 Eclipse passed his rival at the commencement of the fourth 

 mile. An attempt was made by Henry's rider to recover 

 his ground, but in vain. He was beat by about thirty 

 feet. Henry reined in on passing the distance pole, the 

 loss of the heat being evident. 



When the Horses were brought out for the third heat, 

 the great trainer, Arthur Taylor, mounted Henry, instead 

 of the boy who rode him the two first heats. On starting. 

 Eclipse took the lead, which he kept to the end of the 

 race, coming in about three lengths ahead of Henry, both 

 at their utmost speed — Henry, in this heat, having been 

 reserved for the last quarter. 



The time of running the three heats, as given by the 

 judges. Gen. Ridgely, of Baltimore, Capt. Cox, of Wash- 

 ington, and John Allen, Esq. of Philadelphia, was as fol- 

 lows: 



First heat, 7 min. 37 sec. — second heat, 7 min. 49 sec. — 

 third heat, 8 min. 24 sec. 



Twelve miles in 23 minutes and 50 seconds. 

 The weights carried were — Eclipse, 126 lbs. Henry, 

 108. Weights, according to racing calculations, are so 

 nicely regulated to correspond with age, that no advan- 

 tage was given to Henry, as has been said; on the con- 

 trary, according to the long established usage of weights on 

 the Southern courses, now introduced at New-York, 

 Eclipse had an advantage of 8 lbs — more than a distance — 

 7 lbs. == 240 yds. 



On the day previous to the Race, a number of gentle- 

 men visited the course with a surveyor, and finding it 

 thirty feet over a mile, reduced it as nearly to a mile as 

 could conveniently be done, leaving it still eighteen inches 

 over. It is said, however, from the difference in the na- 

 ture of the ground, to be four or five seconds quicker than 

 the Tree Hill course. 



Immediately after the race. Col. W. R. Johnson chal- 

 lenged J. C. Stevens, Esq. and the friends of Eclipse, to 



run Henry against Eclipse the ensuing fall, over the 

 Washington course, for any sum from twenty to fifty thou- 

 sand dollars — forfeit, ten thousand dollars. The challenge 

 was declined, and the resolution then announced has been 

 adhered to, ' never, on any consideration, to risk the life 

 or reputation of the noble animal, whose generous and 

 almost incredible exertions, have gained for the north so 

 signal a victory, and for himself, such well-earned and 

 never-fading renown.' 



Eclipse was accordingly withdrawn from the Turf."' 



The Hunter. 



" There are few agriculturalists who have not a little 

 liking for the sports of the field, and who do not fancy 

 rich music in the cry of the hounds. To what extent it 

 may be prudent for them to indulge in these sports circum- 

 stances must decide, and they deserve the most serious 

 consideration. Few can, or, if they could, ought to keep 

 a Hunter. There are temptations to expense in the field, 

 and to expense after the chase, which it maybe difficult to 

 withstand. The Hunter, however, or the Hunting Horse, 

 i. c. the Horse on which a farmer, if he be not a professed 

 Sportsman, may occasionally with pleasure, and without 

 disgrace, follow the hounds, is in value and beauty next 

 to the Racer. 



He should seldom be under fifteen or more than sixteen 

 hands high; below this standard he cannot always suffi- 

 ciently measure the object before him, and above this, he 

 is apt to be leggy and awkward at his work. 



The foot of the Hunter is a most material point. It is of 

 consequence in the Racer, yet it is a notorious fact, that 

 many of the best thorough-bred Horses have had very in- 

 different feet. The narrow contracted foot, is the curse 

 of much of the racing blood. The work of the Racer, 

 however, is all performed on the Turf, and his bad feet 

 may scarcely incommode him; but the foot of the Hunter 

 is battered over many a flinty road and stony field, and if 

 not particularly good, will soon be disabled and ruined. 



The position of the feet requires some attention in the 

 Hunter. They should, if possible, stand straight. If they 

 turn a little outward there is no serious objection, but if 

 they turn inward his action cannot be safe, particularly 

 when he is fatigued or over-weighted. 



The body should be short and compact, compared with 

 that of the Race Horse, that he may not in his gallop take 

 too extended a stride. This would be a serious disadvan- 

 tage in a long day and with a heavy rider, from the stress 

 on the pasterns; and more serious when goin g over clayey 

 poached ground, during the winter months. The com- 

 pact, short-strided Horse will almost skim the surface. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



while the feet of the longer-reached animal will sink deep, 

 and he will wear himself out by efforts to disengage him- 

 self. 



Every horseman knows how much more enduring is a 

 short-bodied Horse in climbing hills, although perhaps not 

 quite so much in descending them. This is the secret of 

 suiting the Race Horse to his course; and unfolds the ap- 

 parent mystery of a decidedly superior Horse on a flat and 

 straight course, being often beaten by a little Horse, with 

 far shorter strides, on uneven ground, and with several 

 turnings. 



The loins should be broad; — the quarters long; — the 

 thighs muscular; — the hocks well bent, and well under 

 the Horse. 



The reader needs not be told how essential temper and 

 courage are. A hot, irritable brute is a perfect nuisance, 

 and the coward that will scarcely face the slightest fence 

 exposes his owner to ridicule. 



It is true that the farmer may enjoy a good day's sport 

 on the Horse that carries him to market, or possibly occa- 

 sionally performs more menial drudgery; but the frothy 

 lather with which such a Horse is covered in the early 

 part of the day, evinces undeniable inferiority. There is, 

 however, one point on which the untrained Horse has the 

 advantage. Accustomed to all weathers, he rarely suffers, 

 when, after a sharp burst, there comes a sudden check, and 

 the pampered and shivering stabled Horse, is exposed with 

 him for a considerable time to a piercing north-easter. 

 The one cares nothing about it; the other may carry home 

 the seeds of dangerous disease. 



The Hunter may be fairly ridden twice, or, if not with 

 any very hard days, three times in the week; but, after a 

 thoroughly hard day, and evident distress, three or fourda3's' 

 rest should be allowed. They who are merciful to their 

 Horses, allow about thirty days' work in the course of the 

 season; with gentle exercise on each of the intermediate 

 days, and particularly a sweat on the day before hunting. 



It is very conceivable, and does sometimes happen, that 

 entering as fully as his master into the sports of the day, 

 the Horse disdains to yield to fatigue, and voluntarily 

 presses on, until nature is exhausted, and he falls and dies; 

 but, much oftener, the poor animal has, intelligibly enough, 

 hinted his distress; unwilling to give in, yet painfully and 

 faulteringly holding on. The merciless rider, rather than 

 give up one hour's enjoyment, tortures him with whip and 

 spur, until he drops and expires. 



Although the Hunter may be unwilling to relinquish 

 the chase, he who ' is merciful to his beast,' will soon re- 

 cognize the symptoms of excessive and dangerous distress. 

 To the drooping pace and staggering gait, and heaving 

 flank, and heavy bearing on hand, will be added a very 

 Dd 



peculiar noise. The inexperienced person will fancy it 

 to be the beating of the heart; but that has almost ceased 

 to beat, and the lungs are becoming gorged with blood. 

 It is the convulsive motion of the muscles of the belly, 

 called into violent action to assist in the now laborious 

 office of breathing. The man who proceeds a single mile 

 after this ought to suffer the punishment he is inflicting. 



Let the rider instantly dismount. If he has a lancet, 

 and skill to use it, let him take away five or six quarts of 

 blood; or if he has no lancet, let him cut the burs with his 

 pocket-knife as deeply as he can. The lungs may be thus 

 relieved, and the Horse may be able to crawl home. Then, 

 or before, if possible, let some powerful cordial be admi- 

 nistered. Cordials are, generally speaking, the disgrace 

 and bane of the stable; but here, and almost here alone, 

 they are truly valuable. They may rouse the exhausted 

 powers of nature; they may prevent what the medical man 

 would call the reaction of inflammation; although they are 

 the veriest poison when inflammation has commenced. 



A favourite Hunter fell after a long burst, and lay 

 stretched out, convulsed, and apparently dying. His mas- 

 ter procured a bottle of good sherry, from the house of a 

 neighbouring friend, and poured it down the animal's 

 throat The Horse immediately began to revive; soon 

 after got up; walked home, and gradually recovered. The 

 Sportsman may not always be able to get this, but he 

 may obtain a cordial-ball from the nearest farrier, or he 

 may beg a little ginger from some good house-wife, and 

 mix it with warm ale, or he may give the ale alone, or 

 strengthened with a little rum or gin. When he gets 

 home, or if he stops at the first stable he finds, let the Horse 

 be put into the coolest place, and then well clothed and 

 diligently rubbed about the legs and belly. The practice 

 of putting the animal thus distressed, into ' a comfortable, 

 warm stable,' and excluding every breath of air, has de- 

 stroyed many valuable Horses. 



The Farmer's Horse. 



The Farmer's Horse is an animal of all-ivork — to be rid- 

 den occasionally to market or for pleasure, but to be prin- 

 cipally employed for draught. He should be higher than 

 the Road Horse: about fifteen hands and two inches may be 

 taken as the best standard. A Horse with a shoulder 

 thicker, lower, and less standing than would be chosen in 

 a Hackney, will better suit the collar; and collar-work 

 will be chiefly required of him. A stout, compact Horse 

 should be selected, yet not a heavy cloddy one. Some 

 blood will be desirable, but the half-bred Horse will gene- 

 rally best suit the farmer's purposes. He should have 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



weight enough to throw into the collar, and sufficient acti- 

 vity to get over the ground. 



Farmers are now beginning to he aware of the superi- 

 ority of the moderate sized, strong, active Horse, over the 

 bulkier, but slower animal of former days. It is not only 

 in harvest, and when a frosty morning must be seized to 

 cart manure, that this is perceived, but, in the every-day 

 work of the farm, the saving of time, and the saving of 

 provender, too, will be very considerable in the course of 

 a year. 



It has often been said, that a Horse used much for 

 draught is neither pleasant nor safe for the saddle. The 

 little farmer does not want a showy, complete Hackney. 

 He will be content if he is tolerably well curried; and (if 

 he has taken a little care in the choice of his Horse; has 

 selected one with sound feet, shoulders not too thick, and 

 legs not too much under him; and, if he keeps him in good 

 condition, and does not scandalously over-weight him,) 

 the five da)'s carting or harrow-work, will not, to any ma- 

 terial degree, unfit him for the saddle; especially if the 

 rider bear in mind what we have termed the golden rule 

 of horsemanship, always a little to feel the mouth of the 

 animal he is upon. 



A farmer, and, more particularly, a small farmer, will 

 prefer a mare to a gelding, both for riding and driving. 

 She will not cost him so much at first; and he will get a 

 great deal more work out of her. There can be no doubt 

 that, taking bulk for bulk, a mare is stronger, and more 

 lasting than a gelding; and in addition to this, the farmer 

 has her to breed from. 



The mare needs not be idle while she is breeding. She 

 may be worked moderately almost to the period of her 

 foaling, and with benefit rather than otherwise: nor is 

 there occasion that much of her time should he lost even 

 while she is suckling. If she is put to Horse in June, the 

 foaling time will be in the fall, and the loss of labour will 

 occur, in the most leisure time of the year. 



The farmer, however, too frequently thinks that any 

 mare will do to breed from; and, if he can find a great 

 prancing stallion, with a high sounding name, and loaded 

 with fat, he reckons on having a valuable colt: and should 

 he fail, he attributes the fault to the Horse, and not to his 

 own want of judgment. 



The foal should be well taken care of for the first two 

 years. It is bad policy to stint or half starve the growing 

 colt. 



The colt may be earlier handled, but should not be bro- 

 ken-in until three years old; and then the very best break- 

 ing-in for the Carriage-Horse is to make him earn a little 

 of his living. Let him be put to harrow or light plough. 

 Going over the rough ground will teach him to lift his feet 



well, and give him that high and showy action, excusable 

 in a Carriage-Horse, hut excusable in no other. In the 

 succeeding winter, he will be perfectly ready for the town 

 or country market. 



The Road Horse, or Hackney. 



The Road Horse! more difficult to meet with in perfec- 

 tion than the Hunter or the Courser. There are many 

 reasons for this. The price of the Hackney, or the Horse 

 of all-work, is so low, that he who has a good one will not 

 part with him ; and it is by mere accident that he can be ob- 

 tained. There are also several faults that can be overlooked 

 in the Hunter, but which the Road Horse must not have. 

 The Hunter may start, maybe awkward in his walk,oreven 

 his trot; he may have thrushes or corns; but if he can go 

 a good slapping pace, and has wind and bottom, we can 

 put up with him, or prize him: but the Hackney, if he be 

 worth having, must have good fore-legs, and good hinder 

 ones too; he must be sound on his feet; even-tempered; 

 no starter; quiet in whatever situation he may be placed; 

 not hard in hand; and if there be one thing more than any 

 other, in which the possesser, and, in his own estimation 

 at least, the tolerable judge of the Horse, is in error, it is 

 the action of the Road-Horse: < Let him lift his legs 

 well,' it is said, ' and he will never come down.' 



In proportion, however, as he lifts his legs well, will be 

 the force with which he puts them down again; the jar and 

 concussion to the rider; and the battering and wear and 

 tear of the feet. A horse with too great- ' knee action" 

 will not always be speedy; he will rarely be pleasant to 

 ride, and he will not, in the long run, be safer than others. 

 The careless daisy-cutter, however pleasant on the Turf, 

 should indeed be avoided, unless the neck of the rider be 

 previously insured; yet it is a rule, not often understood, 

 and sometimes disputed, but which experience will fully 

 confirm, — that the safety of the Horse depends a great deal 

 more on the manner in which he puts his feet down, than 

 on that in which he lifts them up; — more on the foot being 

 placed at once flat on the ground, or perhaps the heel 

 coming first in contact with it, than on the highest and 

 most splendid action. 



When the toe first touches the ground, it may be easily 

 supposed that the Horse will occasionally topple over. An 

 unexpected obstacle will throw the centre of gravity for- 

 ward, and down he will come. If the toe dig into the 

 ground before the foot is firmly placed, a little thing will 

 cause a trip and a fall. 



Let the farmer who has a stumbler look at the shoes of 

 his Horse. In what part is the wear and tear? — The toe 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



107 



of the shoe will become round, or even be altogether gone, 

 when the heel is scarcely touched. 



For pleasant riding, and for safety, also, a Hackney 

 ■should not carry his legs too high. His going a little too 

 near to the ground is not always to be considered as an 

 insuperable objection. The question is, does he dig his toe 

 into the ground? 



Mount him, and put him to the test. Take up his feet 

 and examine them. If the shoe, after having been on a 

 week or a fortnight, is not unnecessarily worn at the toe, 

 and you feel him put his foot flat on the ground, do not 

 scruple to buy him; nay, esteem him a 'choice-gifted 

 Hackney,' although he may not have the lofty action 

 which some have erroneously thought so necessary. 



Every Horse, however, is liable to fall, and hence comes 

 the golden rule of riding, ' Never trust to your Horse,'' — 

 always feel his mouth lightly. He does wrong who con- 

 stantly pulls might and main; he will soon spoil the Horse's 

 mouth, and render his own work always necessary. He 

 does worse who carelessly throws the reins on the neck of 

 the Horse. Mways feel the mouth lightly; you will 

 thus be able to give the animal assistance immediately, 

 before he is too much off his centre, and when a little 

 check will save him. By this constant gentle/ee/mo- you 

 will likewise induce him to carry his head well, than which 

 few things are more conducive to the beautiful, safe, and 

 easy going of the Horse. 



The Road Horse should be high in the fore-hand; round 

 in the barrel; and deep in the chest; the saddle will not then 

 press too forward, but the girths will remain, without 

 crupper, firmly fixed in their proper place. 



A Hackney is far more valuable for the pleasantness of 

 his paces, and his safety, good temper, and endurance, 

 than for his speed. We rarely want to go more than eight 

 or ten miles in an hour; and, on a journey, not more than six 

 or seven. The fast Horses, and especially the fast trot- 

 ters, are not often easy in their paces, and although they 

 may peforni very extraordinary feats, are disabled and 

 worthless, when the slower Horse is in his prime. 



the hunting of the wild Horses on the Pampas of South 

 America, and a greater one of patience. 



The Exmoor Ponies, although generally ugly enough, 

 are hardy and useful. A well known Sportsman says, that 

 he rode one of them half a dozen miles; and never felt such 

 power and action in so small a compass before. To show 

 his accomplishments, he was turned over a gate at least 

 eight inches higher than his back; and his owner, who rides 

 fourteen stone, travelled on him from Bristol to South 

 Molton, eighty-six miles, beating the coach which runs 

 the same road. 



The Highland Poney is far inferior to the Galloway. 

 The head is large; he is low before, long in the back, short 

 in the legs, upright in the pasterns, rather slow in his paces, 

 and not pleasant to ride, except in the canter. His habits 

 make him hardy, for he is rarely housed in the summer or 

 the winter. The Rev. Mr. Hall, in his ' Travels in Scot- 

 land,' says, that ' when these animals come to any 

 boggy piece of ground, they first put their nose to it, and 

 then pat on it in a peculiar way with one of their fore 

 feet, and from the sound and feel of the ground, they know 

 whether it will bear them. They do the same with ice< and 

 determine in a minute whether they will proceed.' 



The Shetland Poney called in Scotland Sheltie, an 

 inhabitant of the extremest northern Scottish isles, is 

 a very diminutive animal, sometimes not seven hands 

 and a half in height, and rarely exceeding nine and a half. 

 He is often exceedingly beautiful, with a small head, good- 

 tempered countenance, a short neck, fine towards the 

 throttle, shoulders low and thick, (in so little a creature 

 far from being a blemish,) back short, quarters extended and 

 powerful, legs flat and fine, and pretty round feet. They 

 possess immense strength for their size, will fatten upon 

 any thing; and are perfectly docile. One of them nine 

 hands, or three feet in height, carried a man of twelve 

 stone forty miles in one day." 



Ponies. 



CLASSIFICATION OF ANIMALS. 



The fFelsh Poney is one of the most beautiful little 

 animals that can be imagined. He has a small head, high 

 withers, deep yet round barrel, short joints, flat legs, and 

 good round feet. He will live on any fare, and can never 

 be tired out. 



The New Foresters are generally ill-made, large-headed, 

 short-necked, ragged hipped, but hardy, safe, and useful. 

 The catching of these Ponies is as great a trial of skill, as 



MAMMALIA. 



1. BiMANA. Man with two hands. 



2. QuADRUMANA. Animals with four hands — apes, 



baboons, monkeys, and makis. (Lemurs.) 



3. Cheiroptera. INIammiferous animals, in which 



the fore feet form membranes for flying— bats. 




103 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ORDER 



4. DiGiTATA. Mammiferous animals with separate 



toes on all four feet. This order is divided, accord- 

 ing to the difference of the teeth, into the following 

 three families: — 



(A.) Glires. — With teeth like those of the mouse, as 

 the squirrel, dormouse, and other mice; the mar- 

 mot, guinea-pig, jerboa, hare, porcupine. 



(B.) Ferx. — Carnivorous animals, properly so called, 

 and some other genera, with teeth of the same kind — 

 lions, dogs, &,c., the bear, weasel, civet, opossum, 

 hedgehog, shrew, mole. 



(C.) Bruta. — Without teeth, or at least without fore 

 teeth, &c. — sloth, ant eaters, armadilloes, manis. 



5. SoLiDUNGULA. The horse, &c. 



6. BisuLCA. Ruminating animals with cloven feet — 



the camel, the ox, the goat, the sheep, &c. 



7. MuLTUNGULA. Mammiferous animals, for the 



most part very large, unshapely, with bristles of 

 scattered hairs, with more than two toes on each 

 foot — as swine, (which have usually four toes,) the 

 tapir, elephant, rhinoceros, hippopotamus. 



8. Palmata. Mammiferous animals with feet made 



for swimming; subdivided, according to the different 

 forms of their teeth into three families, as above: — 



(A.) Glires. — The beaver. 

 (B.) Ferm. — Seals, otters, &c. 



(C.) Bruta. — Duck-billed animals — walrus, manati; 

 and from these the most suitable transition to order. 



9. Cetacea. Whales, warm-blooded animals, which 



have nothing in common with cold-blooded fishes, 

 but the name; and the natural connexion of which, 

 with mammifera, was correctly remarked even by 



4. Cor ACES. With short feet, and the bill mode- 



rately long, tolerably strong, and convex above — 

 ravens, crows, &c. 



5. Passeres. The singing birds, with swallows, &c. 



The feet short, the bill more or less conical, pointed, 

 and of various length and thickness. 



6. Galling. Birds with short feet, the bill some- 

 what convex above, and having a fleshy membrane 

 at the base — the pigeon, the partridge, the pheasant, 

 the peacock, the common cock, &c. 



7. Struthiones. Large land birds unsuited for fly- 



ing — the ostrich, cassowary, and dodo. 



(b.) TVater Birds. 



8. Gralls:. Birds found in marshes with long feet; 



long, and almost cylindrical bills, and generally a 

 long neck — the heron, the bittern, the plover, the 

 rail, &c. 



9. Anseres. Swimming birds with oar-like feet; a 



short bill covered with skin, generally serrated at 

 the edge, and terminated at the extremity of the 

 upper jaw by a little hook — the swan, goose, duck, 

 and the various species of sea fowl. 



AMPHIBIA. 



1. Reptiles. Amphibia with four feet — tortoises, 



frogs, lizards. 



2. Serpentes. — Serpents, without any external organs 



of motion. 



FISHES. 



BIRDS. 



(a.) Lund Birds. 



1. AcciPiTREs. Birds of prey; with strong hooked 



beaks, mostly with short, strong, knotty feet, and 

 large, crooked, sharp claws — the vulture, the fal- 

 con, the owl. 



a. Levirostkes. With short feet; and very large, 



thick, but mostly hollow, and therefore light bills — 

 parrots, toucans, &c. 



3. Pici. With short feet; moderately long and 



small bills, and the tongue sometimes worm-shaped, 

 sometimes thread-like — the wry neck, woodpecker, 

 creeper, humming-bird, &c. 



(a.) Cartilaginoits, ivithout true bones. 

 (b.) Bony Fishes — Fishes properly so called. 



(a.) 1. Chondropterygii. Without an operculum, 



or covering of the gills — as the shark, the lamprey, 



the torpedo, the skate, the saw fish, &c. 

 (a.) 2. Branchiostegi. With an operculum — the 



sturgeon, the globe fish, the sun fish, &c. 

 (b.) 3. Apodes. Without ventral fins — the eel, the 



sword fish, &c. 

 (b.) 4. JuGULAREs. Having the ventral in front of the 



pectoral fins — the haddock, the cod, the piper, &c. 

 (b.) 5. Thoracici. Having the ventral immediately 



below the pectoral fin — the dory, the plaice, the 



flounder. 





§ ; 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



(b.) 6. Abdominales. Having the ventral behind 



the pectoral fins — the salmon, the trout, and most 

 fresh water fish. 



INSECTS. 



1. CoLEOPTERA. Mostly with horny bodies — bee- 



tles. 



2. Hemiptera. With four wings, folded together 



crucically or longitudinally, hard for one-half, and 

 almost like parchment — the cock-roach, the grass- 

 hopper. 



3. Lepidoptera. With soft hairy bodies, and four 



expanded wings, covered with coloured scales — but- 

 terflies. 



4. Neuroptera. With four transparent, net-shaped, 



or lattice-like wings — the ephemera or day-fly, the 

 water moth. 



5. Hfmenoptera. With four transparent veined 



wings — the wasp, the bee, the ant. 



6. Diptera. Insects with two wings, (uncovered) — 



the gnat, the various species of flies. 



7. Aptera. Insects without wings — the spider, the 



scorpion, the crab, the flea. 

 [In the above orders of Insects, Blumenbach has fol- 

 lowed Linnaeus.] 



WORMS. 



1. Intestina. Long worms, without any evident 



external organs of motion — common earth worms, 

 human worms, &c. 



2. MoLLuscA. Naked, soft worms, with visible, and 



often very numerous extremities — the slug, sea 

 blubber, sea anemone, &c. 



3. Testacea. Animals inhabiting shells, and much 



resembling those of the preceding order — the barna- 

 cle, the muscle, oyster, and most of the animals con- 

 tained in the sea shells. 



4. Crustacea. Animals having almost cartilaginous 



bodies; and in some cases, with a firm incalcareous 

 crust — sea hedgehogs, sea stars, &c. 



5. Corrallia. Polypes and other zoophites inhabit- 



ing coral branches and similar structures. 



6. ZooPHiTA. Naked, plant-like animals, without 



any habitations; also the animalculae of infusions. 



{Blumenbach^ s Nat. Hist. 

 Ee 



HUMMING-BIRD. 

 TROCHJLUS COLVBRIS. 



[Plate X. Vol. 2. Male and Female— size of life.] 



Trochilus colubris, Linn. Syst. i, p. 191, No. 12. — 

 L'Oiseau mouche a gorge rouge de la Caroline, Briss. 

 Orn. III. p. 716, No. 13, t. 36, fig 6.—Le Rubis, 

 Buff. Ois. vi.p. 13. — Humming-Bird, Catesb. Car. 

 I. 65. — Red-throated Humming-Bird, Edw. i, 38, 

 male and female. — Lath. Syn. ii. 769, No. 35. — 

 From life.* 



Nature in every department of her works seems to 

 delight in variety; and the present subject of our history 

 is almost as singular for its minuteness, beauty, want of 

 song, and manner of feeding, as the Mocking-bird is for 

 unrivalled excellence of notes, and plainness of plumage. 

 Though this interesting and beautiful genus of birds com- 

 prehends upwards of seventy species, all of .which, with 

 very few exceptions, are natives of America and its adja- 

 cent islands, it is yet singular, that the species now before 

 us should be the only one of its tribe that ever visits the 

 territory of the United States. 



According to the observations of my friend Mr. Abbott, 

 of Savannah, in Georgia, who has been engaged these 

 thirty years in collecting and drawing subjects of natural 

 history in that part of the country, the Humming-bird 

 makes its first appearance there, from the south, about 

 the twenty-third of March, two weeks earlier than it does 

 in the county of Burke, sixty miles higher up the country 

 towards the interior; and at least five weeks sooner than it 

 reaches this part of Pennsylvania. As it passes on to the 

 northward as far as the interior of Canada, where it is seen 

 in great numbers^t the wonder is excited how so feebly 

 constructed and delicate a little creature can make its way 

 over such extensive regions of lakes and forests, among so 

 many enemies, all its superiors in strength and magnitude. 

 But its very minuteness, the rapidity of its flight, which 



* The male Humming-bird, figured in the plate, was brought by a 

 friend to the Editor, ahye, — but in consequence of confinement be- 

 came nearly exhausted, and on taking it from the cage, it was seized 

 with paroxysms of fear so great as to become apparently lifeless; it 

 however was restored, and remained the greater part of two days, sit- 

 ting on a small twig, in the exact posture as drawn, during wliich time 

 it was fed by means of a camel's hair pencil dipped in dissolved rock 

 cand)', until sufficient strength was gained, when it took its final 

 le.ave by flying out of tlie window.— [Ed.] 



t Mr. M'Kenzie speaks of seeing a "beautiful Humming-bird" near 

 the head of tlie Upjgah or I'eace Iliver, in lat. 54°; but has not parti- 

 cularized the species. 




no 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



almost eludes the eye, and that admirable instinct, reason, 

 or whatever else it may be called, and daring courage 

 which heaven has implanted in its bosom, are its guides 

 and protectors. In these we may also perceive the rea- 

 son why an all-wise Providence has made this little hero 

 an exception to a rule which prevails almost universally 

 through nature, viz. that the smallest species of a tribe are 

 the most prolific. The Eagle lays one, sometimes two, 

 eggs; the Crow five; the Titmouse seven or eight; the 

 small European Wren fifteen; the Humming-bird two, 

 and yet this latter is abundantly more numerous in Ame- 

 rica than the Wren is in Europe. 



About the twenty-fifth of April the Humming-bird 

 usually arrives in Pennsylvania; and about the tenth of 

 INIay begins to build its nest. This is generally fixed on 

 the upper side of a horizontal branch, not among the twigs, 

 but on the body of the branch itself. Yet I have known 

 instances where it was attached by the side to an old moss- 

 grown trunk; and others where it was fastened on a strong 

 rank stalk, or weed, in the garden; but these cases are 

 rare. In the woods it very often chooses a white oak sap- 

 ling to build on; and in the orchard, or garden, selects a 

 pear tree for that purpose. The branch is seldom more 

 than ten feet from the ground. The nest is about an inch 

 in diameter, and as much in depth. A very complete one 

 is now lying before me, and the materials of which it is 

 composed are as follow: — The outward coat is formed of 

 small pieces of a species of bluish gray lichen that vege- 

 tates on old trees and fences, thickly glued on with the 

 saliva of the bird, giving firmness and consistency to the 

 whole, as well as keeping out moisture. Within this are 

 thick matted layers of the fine wings of certain flying 

 seeds, closely laid together; and, lastly, the downy sub- 

 stance from the great mullein, and from the stalks of the 

 common fern, lines the whole. The base of the nest is 

 continued round the stem of the branch, to which it 

 closely adheres; and, when viewed from below, appears 

 a mere mossy knot or accidental protuberance. The eggs 

 are two, pure white, and of equal thickness at both ends. 

 On a person's approaching their nest, the little proprie- 

 tors dart around with a humming sound, passing frequently 

 within a few inches of one's head, and should the young 

 be newly hatched, the female will resume her place on the 

 nest even while you stand within a yard or two of the 

 spot. The precise period of incubation I am unable to 

 give; but the young are in the habit, a short time before 

 they leave the nest, of thrusting their bills into the mouths 

 of their parents, and sucking what they have brought them. 

 I never could perceive that they carried them any ani- 

 mal food; though from circumstances that will presently 

 be mentioned, I think it highly probable they do. As I 



have found their nests with eggs so late as the twelfth of 

 July, I do not doubt but that they frequently, and perhaps 

 usually, raise two brood in the same season. 



The Humming-bird is extremely fond of tubular flow- 

 ers, and I have often stopped, with pleasure, to observe 

 his manoeuvres among the blossoms of the trumpet-flower. 

 When arrived before a thicket of these that are full-blown, 

 he poises, or suspends himself on wing, for the space of 

 two or three seconds, so steadily, that his wings become 

 invisible, or only like a mist; and you can plainly distin- 

 guish the pupil of his eye looking round with great quick- 

 ness and circumspection; the glossy golden green of his 

 back, and the fire of his throat, dazzling in the sun, form 

 altogether a most interesting appearance. The position 

 into which the body is usually thrown while in the act of 

 thrusting the slender tubular tongue into the flower, to 

 extract its sweets, is exhibited in the figure on the plate. 

 When it alights, which is frequently, it always prefers 

 the small dead twigs of a tree, or bush, where it dresses 

 and arranges its plumage with great dexteritj-. The note of 

 the male is a single chirp, not louder than that of a small 

 cricket or grasshopper, generally uttered while passing 

 from flower to flower, or when engaged in fight with his 

 fellows; for when two males meet at the same bush or 

 flower, a battle instantly takes place; and the combatants 

 ascend in the air, chirping, darting and circling around each 

 other, till the eye is no longer able to follow them. The 

 conqueror, however, generally returns to the place, to 

 reap the fruits of his victory. I have seen him attack, and 

 for a few moments tease the King-bird; and have also seen 

 him, in his turn, assaulted by a humble-bee, which he soon 

 put to flight. He is one of those few birds that are uni- 

 versally beloved ; and amidst the sweet dewy serenity of 

 a summer's morning, his appearance among the arbours of 

 honeysuckles, and beds of flowers, is truly interesting. 



When morning dawns, and the blest sun again 



Lifts his red glories from the Eastern main, 



Then through our woodbines, wet with glittering dews, 



The flower-fed Humming-bird his round pursues; 



Sips with inserted tube, the honeyed blooms. 



And chirps his gratitude £s round he roams ; 



While richest roses, though in crimson drest. 



Shrink from the splendour of his gorgeous breast; 



What heav'nly tints in mingling radiance fly! 



Each rapid movement gives a different dye; 



Lilie scales of burnish'd gold they dazzling show. 



Now sink to shade — now like a furnace glow 1 



The singularity of this little bird has induced many 

 persons to attempt to raise them from the nest, and accus- 

 tom them to the cage. Mr. Cofler, of Fairfax county, 

 Virginia, a gentleman who has paid great attention to the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



manners and peculiarities of dUr native birds, told me, that 

 he raised and kept two, for some months, in a cage; sup- 

 plying them with honey dissolved in water, on which they 

 readily fed. As the sweetness of the liquid frequently 

 brought small flies and gnats about the cage and cup, the 

 birds amused themselves by snapping at them on wing, 

 and swallowing them with eagerness, so that these insects 

 formed no inconsiderable part of their food. Mr. Charles 

 Wilson Peale, proprietor of the Museum, told me, that he 

 had two young Humming-birds which he raised from the 

 nest. They used to fly about the room; and would fre- 

 quently perch on Mrs. Peale's shoulder to be fed. When 

 the sun shone strongly into the chamber, he has observed 

 them darting after the motes that floated in the light, as 

 Flycatchers would after flies. In tlie summer of 1S03, a 

 nest of young Humming-birds was brought me, that were 

 nearly fit to fly. One of them actually flew out by the 

 window the same evening, and falling against a wall, was 

 killed. The other refused food, and the next morning I 

 could but just perceive that it had life. A lady in the 

 house undertook to be its nurse, placed it in her bosom, 

 and as it began to revive, dissolved a little sugar in her 

 mouth, into which she thrust its bill, and it sucked with 

 great avidity. In this manner it was brought up until fit 

 for the cage. I kept it upwards of three months, supplied 

 it with loaf sugar dissolved in water, which it preferred to 

 honey and water, gave it fresh flowers every morning 

 sprinkled with the liquid, and surrounded the space in 

 which I kept it with gauze, that it might not injure itself. 

 It appeared gay, active, and full of spirit, hovering from 

 flower to flower as if in its native wilds, and always ex- 

 pressed by its motions and chirping, great pleasure at see- 

 ing fresh flowers introduced to its cage. Numbers of 

 people visited it from motives of curiosity, and I took 

 every precaution to preserve it, if possible, through the 

 winter. Unfortunately, however, by some means it got 

 at large, and flying about the room, so injured itself that it 

 soon after died. 



This little bird is extremely susceptible of cold, and 

 if long deprived of the animating influence of the sun- 

 beams, droops and soon dies. A very beautiful male was 

 brought me this season, which I put into a wire cage, and 

 placed in a retired, shaded part of the room. After flut- 

 tering about for some time, the weather being uncommonly 

 cool, it clung by the wires, and hung in a seemingly tor- 

 pid state for a whole forenoon. No motion whatever of 

 the lungs could be perceived, on the closest inspection, 

 though at other times this is remarkably observable; the 

 eyes were shut; and when touched by the finger it gave 

 no signs of life or motion. I carried it out to the open air, 

 and placed it directly in the rays of the sun, in a sheltered 



situation. In a few seconds respiration became very appa- 

 rent, the bird breathed faster and faster, opened its eyes, 

 and began to look about, with as much seeming vivacity 

 as ever. After it had completely recovered, I restored it 

 to liberty; and it flew off to the withered top of a pear 

 tree, where it sat for some time dressing its disordered 

 plumage, and then shot off" like a meteor. 



The flight of the Humming-bird from flower to flower, 

 greatly resembles that of a bee, but is so much more rapid, 

 that the latter appears a mere loiterer to him. He poises him- 

 self on wing, while he thrustshislongslender tubular tongue 

 into the flowers in search of food. He sometimes enters a 

 room by the window, examines the bouquets of flowers, 

 and passes out by the opposite door or window. He has 

 been known to take refuge in a hot-house during the cool 

 nights of autumn; to go regularly out in the morning, and 

 return as regularly in the evening, for several days to- 

 gether. 



The Humming-bird has, hitherto, been supposed to 

 subsist altogether on the hone)'^, or liquid sweets, which it 

 extracts from flowers. One or two curious observers have 

 indeed remarked, that they have found evident fragments 

 of insects in the stomach of this species; but these have 

 been generally believed to have been taken in by accident. 

 The few opportunities which Europeans have to determine 

 this point by observations made on the living bird, or by 

 dissection of the newly-killed one, have rendered this 

 mistaken opinion almost general in Europe. For myself, 

 I can speak decisively on this subject. I have seen the 

 Humming-bird for half an hour at a time darting at those 

 little groups of insects that dance in the air in a fine sum- 

 mer evening, retiring to an adjoining twig to rest, and re- 

 newing the attack with a dexterity that sets all other Fly- 

 catchers at defiance. I have opened from time to time 

 great numbers of these birds; have examined the contents 

 of the stomach with suitable glasses, and in three cases 

 out of four, have found these to consist of broken fragments 

 of insects. In many subjects entire insects of the coleop- 

 terous class, but very small, were found unbroken. The 

 observations of Mr. Coffer as detailed above, and the re- 

 marks of my worthy friend, Mr. Peale, are corroborative 

 of these facts. It is well known that the Humming-bird 

 is particularly fond of tubular flowers where numerous 

 small insects of this kind resort to feed on tlie farina, &c. 

 and there is every reason for believing that he is as often 

 in search of these insects as of honey; and that the former 

 compose at least as great a portion of his usual sustenance 

 as the latter. If this food be so necessary for the parents, 

 there is no doubt but the young also occasionally partake 

 of it. 



To enumerate all the flowers of which this little bird is 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



fond, would be to repeat the names of half our American 

 Flora. From the blossoms of the towering poplar, or tu- 

 lip tree, through a thousand intermediate flowers, to those 

 of the humble larkspur, he ranges at will, and almost inces- 

 santly. Every period of the season produces a fresh mul- 

 titude of new favourites. Towards the month of Septem- 

 ber there is a yellow flower which grows in great luxuri- 

 ance along the sides of creeks and rivers, and in low moist 

 situations: it grows to the height of two or three feet, and 

 the flower which is about the size of a thimble, hangs in 

 the shape of a cap of liberty, above a luxuriant growth of 

 green leaves. It is the Bahamina noli me tungere of 

 botanists, and is the greatest favourite with the Humming- 

 bird of all our other flowers. In some places where these 

 plants abound, you may see at one time ten or twelve Hum- 

 ming-birds darting about, and fighting with and pursuing 

 each other. About the twentieth of September they gene- 

 rally retire to the south. I have, indeed, sometimes seen 

 a solitary individual on the twenty-eighth and thirtieth of 

 that month, and sometimes even in -October; but these 

 cases are rare. About the beginning of November, they 

 pass the southern boundary of the United States into Flo- 

 rida. 



The Humming-bird is three inches and a half in length, 

 and four and a quarter in extent; the whole back, upper 

 part of the neck, sides under the wings, tail coverts, and 

 two middle feathers of the tail, are of a rich golden green; 

 the tail is forked, and, as well as the wings, of a deep 

 brownish purple; the bill and eyes are black; the legs and 

 feet, both of which are extremely small, are also black; the 

 bill is straight, very slender, a little inflated at the tip, and 

 very incompetent to the exploit of penetrating the tough 

 sinewy side of a crow, and precipitating it from the clouds 

 to the earth, as Charlevoix would persuade his readers to 

 believe. The nostrils are two small oblong slits, situated 

 at the base of the upper mandible, scarcely perceivable 

 when the bird is dead, though very distinguishable and 

 prominent when living; the sides of the belly and belly 

 itself, dusky white, mixed with green; but what consti- 

 tutes the chief ornament of this little bird, is the splendour 

 of the feathers of his throat, which, when placed in a pro- 

 per position, glow with all the brilliancy of the ruby. 

 These feathers are of singular strength and texture, lying 

 close together like scales, and vary when moved before 

 the eye from a deep black to a fiery crimson and burning 

 orange. The female is destitute of this ornament; but 

 difTers little in other appearances from the male; her tail is 

 tipt with white, and the whole lower parts are of the same 

 tint. The young birds of the first season, both male and 

 female, have the tail tipt with white, and the whole lower 

 parts nearly white; in the month of September tlie orna- 



mental feathers on the throat of the young males begin to 

 appear. 



On dissection the heart was found to be remarkably 

 large, nearly as big as the cranium, and the stomach, though 

 distended with food, uncommonly small, not exceeding the 

 globe of the eye, and scarcely more than one-sixth part 

 as large as the heart; the fibres of the last were also ex- 

 ceedingly strong. The brain was in large quantity, and 

 very thin; the tongue, from the tip to an extent equal with 

 the length of the bill, was perforated, forming two closely 

 attached parallel and cylindrical tubes; the other extremi- 

 ties Vjf the tongue corresponded exactly to those of the 

 Woodpecker, passing up the hind head and reaching 

 to the base of the upper mandible. These observations 

 were verified in five different subjects, all of whose sto- 

 machs contained fragments of insects, and some of them 

 whole ones. — Wilson. 



ANGLING IN SURINAM. 



The negroes of Surinam take their fish by implements 

 which may be denominated the spring hook and the spring 

 basket; the first of which consists of a strong elastic rod 

 or pole stuck in the ground under water, and to the other 

 end of which are attached two lines of unequal lengths, 

 the shorter having fastened to it a small stick ten inches 

 long, and the other the same, but fixed lower; while at 

 the extremity of this line is hooked a small fish, by the 

 fins, in such a manner, however, as to be able to swim to 

 and fro, and serve as a bait for the larger species. Two 

 long sticks being next placed in the ground, so as to 

 appear above water, a third stick is laid across, forming 

 them into the appearance of a gallows; above this gallows 

 is bent and fixed the elastic rod or pole, by means of the 

 double line and the sticks fixed thereon, as mentioned 

 above, but in such a manner that, at the least pull at the 

 bait, the apparatus gives way, the elastic rod instantly as- 

 sumes an upright position, and the fish that occasioned the 

 spring, by taking the bait, is immediately suspended above 

 water. The spring-basket is upon a similar construction. 

 The basket is made of warimbo-reeds in the form of a sugar- 

 loaf, in the small end of which the elastic rod is fastened, 

 while at the other end is an open trap-door, the whole 

 being supported in a proper position by a forked stick. 

 No sooner has a large fish entered the basket and taken 

 the bait, than the elastic rod, as in the former instance, 

 erects itself with a spring, the trap-door closes, and the 

 game is thus secured. In this mode of angling there is, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



of course, no occasion to watch the line as in the common 

 method, when it frequently happens that the philosophic 

 fisher displays no ordinary degree of patience in calmly 

 waiting for hours, or perhaps for days, in expectation of a 

 very fine nibble at least, if not of a fierce bite. The spring- 

 hook, or spring-basket, if set at night, may be conve- 

 niently examined the nest morning, and will seldom be 

 found empty, unless fish be very scarce. — Annals of 

 Sporting. 



From the New-England Galaxy. 



SOME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A 

 SPORTSMAN. 



[Continued from page 90.] 



The Sportsman is led by the very nature of his pur- 

 suits to pass away many solitary hours, with no other com- 

 panionship than the communion of his own thoughts. In 

 his utter solitude he indulges in many a dreamy and deli- 

 cious reverie, in many a bright imagining. As he paces 

 the far extended plain, or reclines at noonday at the root 

 of the patriarchal tree of the forest, his thoughts wander 

 forth into the unexplored realms of the future, or steal 

 back into the shadowy halls of the great Past, and make 

 their melancholy sojourn with the glorious dead. The past, 

 the past! it is ever with a deep sense of awe that we ven- 

 ture into the broad mysterious dominions of the past. The 

 mind is impressed with a strange tinge of sadness as it 

 wanders among the ashes of long-forgotten generations; as 

 it calls those mighty spirits of the dead again into ideal 

 life, as it meets with the good, the brave, the pious, the 

 learned, the benevolent men of other days. 



It is natural, as it is delightful, for the solitary Sports- 

 man, as he plunges into the depths of our immense woods, 

 as he loiters along the lonely shore, as he glides across the 

 silent bay in his rocking skiff, as he muses upon the bor- 

 der of the rivulet, to recur to those not far-distant days, 

 when the barbaric tribes of the red men peopled the land 

 around him. The spirit of the departed savage is around, 

 and about him; it haunts the wood and peoples the valley. 

 As he urges his slender shallop over the billows, he almost 

 fancies that he can again discover the gliding boat of the 

 Indian; as he traverses the solemn glades of the forest he 

 almost expects to see the apparition of the savage warrior 

 start from the leafy thicket, 



F P 



And then to mark the Lord of all, 



The forest liero, trained to wars, 

 Quivered and plumed, and lithe and tall, 



And seamed with glorious scars, 

 Walk forth, amid his reign, to dare 



The wolf, and grapple with the bear. 



But yesterday, as it were, the calumet of peace was 

 lit, the council fire sent up its flames in the silence of the 

 deep woods, or the war-hatchet was dug from the root of 

 the peaceful tree, and the great war-dance made the hills 

 resound with the measured tramp of a thousand warriors, 

 and the hideous j'all sent forth from a thousand warlike 

 bosoms. But yesterday, as it were, and the now cultivated 

 hill was overshadowed by the wide and drooping wood, 

 and the plain whose fertileglebe is now made fruitful by the 

 hand of the husbandman, or occupied by the secluded vil- 

 lage, or the vast and noisy city, was a silent and intermina- 

 ble wilderness, whose tranquillity was only disturbed by the 

 shout of the Indian hunter, or the blast of the Indian horn. 

 From the recesses of every wood the hearth of the Indian 

 lodge sent up its curling smoke; on the green slopes around, 

 the sounds of childish sport were heard; beneath the sacred 

 tree the bones of the old forefathers of the hamlet were 

 committed to their long repose. The Sportsman is con- 

 tinually reminded of their existence, by a thousand objects 

 around him. With every venerable tree, thick with the 

 moss of age, with every wild stream that lifts up its cla- 

 morous voice in the solitude, are mysteriously connected 

 associations which call before his memory the glories of 

 other days, the ferocity of the savage warrior, or the free- 

 dom of the wild hunter. He often meets with relics of 

 that departed race in his solitary rambles; he discovers the 

 lonely cairn where the ashes of the distinguished chieftain 

 repose; he meets with the pious heap of stones which 

 savage afiection has erected over the bones of a beloved 

 object; he oftentimes finds the relics of the crumbling 

 lodge or decayed canoe, the huge wooden bowl, the rude 

 pottery, the stone-hatchet, the clumsy knife, the flint- 

 pointed arrow, the shell-covered shield, the ornamented 

 pouch or moccasin, the bow or battle-axe of tough wood or 

 polished bone, and various other curiosities which serve 

 to remind of that untutored people whose hands so long 

 ago fashioned them. 



If the Sportsman is wearied at any time with a long and 

 patient march, then what more delightful than to fling him- 

 self down upon the smooth sea-beach or the yielding car- 

 pet with which boon Nature has overspread the earth, and 

 indulge in repose mental or bodily. He can then produce 

 his well-filled scrip, and like the Greeks of old after the 

 battle, "snatch a short repast." With what charitable 

 satisfaction does he bestow a bountiful portion of his stores 




114 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



upon poor Carlo, whose watery jaws, wagging tail, and 

 swimming and wide-open eyes, so imploringly beseech him 

 for a benefaction! Then is the joy-bestowing flask pro- 

 duced, and the fragrant and delicious cigar ignited. Then 

 also he can produce from a secret nook in his game-bag, 

 his miniature edition of his favourite poet, and surrender 

 up his imagination to the enchantment of inspired song. 

 Or if the spirit so moveth him, he can sharpen his pencil 

 and display his parchment, and inscribe in poetical verse, 

 the beauty of the rare scenery around him. Upon a flower- 

 enamelled bank, at the borders of a beautiful stream, whose 

 waters rivalled in purity and clearness the ver}^ atm.osphere 

 itself, and whose voice poured out a melodious murmur, 

 richer than the sound of the flute, or the modulation of 

 the Eolian harp itself, the following verses were composed 



TO A RIVULET. 



(if trouting) with the coolness and silence of a philosopher. 

 His eye is limited to the peaceful wave; it is never suf- 

 fered to wander into the air in pursuit of the passing wing. 

 nor is his footstep led away from hill to hill, by the hover- 

 ing flock or the nimbly-moving animal. He poises the 

 silent and inofiensive rod in his hand, and has little aflfec- 

 tion for the murderous gun. In comparison with the war- 

 like gunner, he practices the gentle trade and craft of 

 peaceful and civil life. Here are some verses written 

 during a too-bright afternoon in the summer time^, when 

 not a fin would wrinkle the surface of the water, nor a gill 

 venture within hail of our seductive hook. At such 

 times it is usual for the fishing line to give place to the 

 line poetical. If the verse is of a drowsy and narcotic na- 

 ture it is but fair to impute the blame to the universal 

 slumber of the woods and wilds around, which infuse 

 something of their nodding qualities into the bosom of the 



Merry brook ! 

 Upon thy margin green, how dear tlie joy 

 When I did loiter here ; — a truant boy ! 



With line and hook ! 



THE 



NGLER'S SONG, 



Thou fingest still, 

 That same light-hearted son; 

 When life to me had not 



Nor painful ill ! 



thou then didst i 

 jarring string 



Thy silent strand, 

 Seemed then profusely paved with yellow gold ! 

 That gold is now but poor and worthless mould, 



— But shining sand ! 



I wondered then 

 Why human life was ever like the sea, 

 Vexed by the frantic noise eternally. 



Of angry men ! 



It seemed to me — 

 'Twere belter if the course of human life 

 Moved like thy current without noise or strife. 



On to the sea ! 



Babbling stream. 

 Full many a pleasant thought of early days 

 Is wedded unto thy bewildering maze, 



And cheerful gleam. 



Favourite brook, 

 I love even now to pace thy grassy brink! 

 Upon the innocent sports of youth to think. 



And on thee look. 



Your angler is apt to be a more meditative and poetical 

 personage than the gunner. He sits by the passing stream, 

 by the hour together, or glides about from eddy to eddy 



When first the flame of day, 

 Crimsons the fleeting mist, 

 And from the valley rolls away 

 The haze, by the sunbeam kissed, 

 Then to the lonely woods I pass, 

 With angling rod and line ; 

 While yet the dew-drops in the grass. 

 Like scattered diamonds shine. 



How vast the mossy forest-halls ; 



Silent and full of gloom ! 



Thro' the arch'd roof the day-beam falls 



Like torch-light in a tomb. 



The old trunks of trees rise around, 



Like pillars in a church of old. 



And the wind fills them with a sound 



As if a bell were tolled. 



Whore falls the noisy stream 

 In many a bubble bright. 

 Along whose grassy margin gleam 

 Flowers gaudy to the sight, 

 There silently I stand. 

 Watching ray angle play; 

 And eagerly draw to the land, 

 My speckled prey. 



Oft ere the carrion bird has left 



His eyry the dead tree! 



Or ere the eagle's wing has cleft 



Tlie cloud in heaven's blue sea, — 



Or ere the lark's bold pinion speeds 



To greet the misty day. 



My foot has shaken the bending reeds; 



My rod has found its prey. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



And when ttie twilight with a blush 

 Upon her cheek, moves by, 

 And evening's universal hush 

 Spreads o'er the darkening sky, 

 And flickeringly the tapers burn 

 In villages far away, 

 Then from the lonely stream I turn 

 And from the forests gray. 



It is not easy to determine whether there is more real 

 pleasure to be derived from the angle or the gun. Some 

 persons are captivated by the stirring excitement of the 

 one, for whom all the quiet and unobtrusive fascination of 

 the other has no charm. But perhaps in most cases it is 

 true that the hand which is familiar with the gun can 

 wield a skilful rod. The same person who will patiently, 

 (nay joyfullv) sustain the fatigue of the chase, in the woods 

 or on the sea-shore, with a heavy gun across his arm, will 

 also take delight in following the route of the running 

 stream, although he has to wade "up to his knees in wa- 

 ter." In both occupations he receives equal and exquisite 

 pleasure; his mind is amused, his bodily strength is in- 

 creased, his slumber is profound and refreshing, he rises 

 with a liberal and merry heart, and the depressing cares 

 and anxieties that prey upon most slothful minds and 

 bodies, never venture to invade him. He is social and 

 happy, and passes through the world like one who is con- 

 tented to enjoy it as it is, without indulging in vain and 

 wicked repinings, because it is no better. 



That picture of the angler! suspended over the door of 

 our good friend Bradley, how often has it enticed me into 

 the purchase of that fishing and shooting gear so dear to a 

 Sportsman's heart, so ineffably dear to his purse. I never 

 pass that tempting bait without casting a longing and wistful 

 glance at the various implements and appliances of fishing 

 craft and shooting craft displayed at the window with such 

 a prodigal and judicious care, and I long to possess them 

 all, and hasten away with them " to the mountain's brow," 

 or the forest's heart, or the ocean's border. Behold, the 

 golden profusion! the priceless wealth! exceeding in value 

 the Indian pearl, or barbaric gold. Here are rows of po- 

 lished hooks, comprehending all shapes and sizes, from that 

 which will conquer the biggest fin that cleaves the waters 

 around Nahant or Nantasket, to that which is suited to 

 the gills of the smallest minnow that sparkles in the pool. 

 Here is an angling creel of snow white twigs, woven per- 

 haps by still whiter hands; here the firm net-work of the 

 game-bag: the water-proof drinking flask — the copper 

 powder flask — the transparent horn — the double shot-belt 

 — the landing net — the gut, hair, grass, and silk lines, 

 buoys of all colours, jointed rods tapering into an almost 

 invisible point, trolling winches, and an endless variety 



of gimp, tackle, and artificial flies, of most captivating 

 brilliancy. 



There has been much controversy among our brother 

 anglers, in regard to the best bait for taking both brook 

 and salmon trout. We have often tried the artificial fly, 

 but without an}- extraordinary success. In fact, unless 

 you are fortunate enough to select the fly of the proper co- 

 lour and species, you will fail in all j-our attempts. After 

 many unsuccessful experiments, we have been obliged to 

 resort to the old-fashioned worm bait. In autumn, when 

 clouds of grasshoppers swarm in the meadows, one of that 

 long-legged gentr_y proves to be a very killing bait. The 

 white or green worm, however, (the red has not sufficient 

 tenacity,) if skilfully attached to the hook, may be relied 

 on as not inferior to all others. It is best to thrust two of 

 them upon the hook, taking care to leave bare its tip. One 

 end of each worm should be suflered to hang loosely from 

 the hook, that by its motion it may have the appearance of 

 life. If you do not suffer the fish to gorge this bait, it will 

 serve you on man}- trials. It requires long and careful 

 practice, to enable an angler to cast his line with skill and 

 precision. "The common practice is to go to the head of 

 the stream or the pool, and to allow the bait to make its 

 way before you, downwards, till it be caught by some 

 watchful eye, and lodged in some unhappy jaw. But in 

 this case you always pull against the stream, and conse- 

 quently you more than double the resistance; besides, as 

 all fish catch any bait floating downwards with their heads 

 turned against the current, it is ten to one but after your 

 bait has been almost as far home in the stomach of the 

 trout, as Jonah was in that of the whale, the trout may 

 open his mouth, and allow yoi/ to free him of so inconve- 

 nient a meal. Now, instead of fishing with the bait doicn 

 a small mountain stream, fish up it; keep a pretty long 

 line, and continue constantly pulling it out and throwing it 

 in ; thus, even suppose there is not a single fish in the stream 

 or in the pool •i\']iich may have the least intention to swal- 

 low, many will have a great inclination to look at, to nib- 

 ble at, and tamper with this danger. During all this float- 

 ing and circling, during all this nibbling and dallying, you 

 will observe that the trout still keep, in this mode of fish- 

 ing, betwixt your hook and you; and, accordingly, when- 

 ever you choose to call home your hook with a sudden 

 jerk, you have a great chance to come round some fellow's 

 jaws, or across his breast, who had no intention to swallow. 

 You must however remember, while practising this me- 

 thod, to have a strong line and rod, which will bend 

 down almost to your liand, for, in order to accomplish 

 your purpose you are compelled to draw so powerfully 

 that should you hit upon a root or stone your tackle will 

 be in danger of giving way. It is very difficult to pro- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



cure in this city a rod thoroughly seasoned, well balanced, 

 and made of proper materials. The India joint rods which 

 are so common, cannot be depended upon. They should 

 be made of hard, solid wood, tipped with whalebone, of 

 great elasticity and strength. It will be found to be very 

 convenient to attach a short, stout spear-point to the fer- 

 rule of the rod, which can be thrust into the turf, from 

 time to time. Indeed, many of the best imported rods are 

 provided with this useful instrument. There is no better 

 sport than that of taking the large salmon trout. It re- 

 quires no little generalship to capture this wary rover. It 

 will require all your science as a tactician, in the cautious 

 advance, in the guarded retreat, to outmanreuvre him. If 

 you press him too hotly, he will inevitably escape from 

 you, bearing away with him in triumph, your whole 

 length of line, hooks and all, as his opima spolia, the evi- 

 dences to his comrades, of his strength and cunning, and 

 of your defeat. A man never looks more like that person 

 which Dr. Johnson maliciously describes an angler to be, 

 than when standing upon a brook side with a rod in his 

 hand, whose line, a veteran trout has borne away to his 

 cell some fifteen feet under the bank. The salmon trout 

 abounds in our large lakes and ponds, and is often taken in 

 streams. The following lines by James Hogg, one of the 

 sweetest of British poets, I will venture, in consideration 

 of their beauty, to insert. 



Vain sparry grot and verdant cave 

 The stranger to detain — 

 For thou wast wearied of the wave, 

 And loud voice of the main; 

 And nought thy heart could satisfy. 

 But those clear gravelly rills, 

 Where once a young and happy fry, 

 Thou danced among the hills ! 



The river roaring down the rock, 



The fierce and foaming linn, 



Essayed to stay thee with the shock. 



The dark and dizzy din — 



With wilier malice nets did twist 



To perfect thy undoing, 



But all those dangers hast thou missed, 



True to thy destined ruin I 



The poetical angler meant, I suppose, to insinuate by 

 "True to thy destined ruin," that after listening year after 

 year to " The loud voice of the main," lying like a shadow 

 in security by "Invercauld's broad tree," the noble subject 

 of his poem was predestined to die by his hand. Iifdeed 

 to perish by his hand, would be (in the savage language of 

 INIetamora,) to "die gloriously." Indeed if he were but 

 half as skilful in casting as in composing lines, no fin could 

 resist or escape him. 



Thou bonny fish from the far sea, 

 Whose waves unwearied roll 

 In primitive immensity. 

 Aye buffetmg the pole ! 

 From millions of thy silvery kind 

 In that wide waste that dwell, 

 Thou only power and path did'st find. 

 To reach this lonely dell. 



And now my beauty ! bold and well 



Thy pilgrim-course has been, 



For thou like Wordsworth's Peter Bell, 



Hast gazed on Aberdeen ! 



And all those sweetest banks between, 



By Invercauld's broad tree. 



The world of beauty hast thou seen 



That sleeps upon the Dee. 



There oft in silence clear and bright 



Thou layest, a shadow still. 



In some green nook where with delight 



Joins in the mountain-rill. 



There in the waters scarce-heard boom. 



Didst thou float, and rise, and sink. 



While o'er the breathing banks of broom. 



The wild-deer came to drink. 



PROGNOSTICS OF THE WEATHER. 



The success of the Chase and Shooting must always 

 depend on the weather; and therefore the following prog- 

 nostics will be interesting to the Sportsman: — 



Clouds. — When there are two different currents of 

 clouds, especially if the lowest flies fast before the wind, 

 and these appear in hot weather, in the summer, they por- 

 tend the gathering of a thunder-storm. 



When thin whitish clouds fly swiftly in the air under 

 those that are thicker, and when small scattered ones ap- 

 pear in clear weather, I'uin. 



When a general cloudiness covers the sky above, with 

 small black fragments of clouds, like smoke, driving un- 

 derneath, rain is not far off, and will probably be lasting. 

 If a black cloud is seen in the west about sun-setting, and 

 when, at any time, such clouds arise suddenly in that 

 quarter, rain. 



When clouds are formed like fleeces, dense toward the 

 centre, and very white at the extremities, with a bright 

 and blue sky about them, they are of a frosty coldness, and 

 will soon fall, either in snow, hail, or hasty showers of 

 rain. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



ll-? 



Against heavy rain, every cloud rises larger tlian the 

 former, and all of them appear in an increasing state; — 

 this is perhaps most remarkable on the approach of a 

 thunder-storm; after the vapours have been copiously ele- 

 vated, suspended in the sky by the heat, and are highly 

 charged with the electrical fluid, small pieces of flying 

 clouds augment and assemble together, until, in a short 

 time, they cover the skj^: as this collecting of the clouds 

 out of the air, is a certain forerunner of rain, so when 

 they decay and resolve themselves into air, it is a sure 

 symptom of fair weather. 



When clouds are streaming within the canopy, and 

 small ones enlarge themselves; when they are large, and 

 shaped like rocks or towers; when waterish clouds are on 

 the tops of mountains, and small, rugged, livid ones near 

 the sun, especially at its setting, they all prognosticate rain. 

 Clouds, with white summits and livid bases, foretel thun- 

 der; and two such clouds rising on either hand, sudden 

 tempests. 



If clouds are seen to breed high in the air, in thin white 

 trains, like locks of wool, they denote that the vapour, as 

 collected, is irregularly spread by contrary winds above; 

 and the consequence will soon be a wind below, and pro- 

 bably rain with it. 



Small and white clouds, high and light, and when 

 mountains are free from clouds, high and light, are both 

 symptoms of fine weather. 



IV'uid. — Whirlwind, settled fair. Continuing in the 

 north-east three days without rain, fair for eight or nine 

 days; going backward, rain; when it veers hastily about 

 to several points of the compass, rain quickly follows. 

 When the wind makes a whistling or howling noise, it is 

 as sure a prognostic of rain as the wind can afford. A 

 brisk south wind, dry. Wind may be expected from that 

 quarter or the opposite, if the clouds, as they come for- 

 ward, seem to diverge from a point in the horizon. Wind 

 from north-east to north-west, fair; from south-east to 

 south-west, rainy. A week's fair weather, with a soutli- 

 erly wind, drought; an easterly wind the fore part of sum- 

 mer, dry summer; westerly the latter part of summer, dry 

 autumn. 



Dew. — A heav}' dew, fair. If it vanishes suddenly or 

 early, rain. When the dew lies plentifully upon the grass 

 after a fine day, another fine one may be expected to suc- 

 ceed it; but if, after such a day, no dew is upon the 

 ground, and no wind stirring, it is a sign that the vapours 

 ascend, where they will accumulate, and must terminate 

 in rain. 



Vapours. — A misty morning, and the mist falls, a hot 

 day; if the mist rises, rain. If general before sun-rise, 

 near the full of the moon, fine weather. 

 Gg 



Where there are high hills, and the mist whichhangs over 

 the lower lands in a morning draws towards the hills, and 

 rolls up their sides until it covers their tops, there will be 

 no rain. 



To judge correctly of the appearance of a fog, it is ne- 

 cessary to be acquainted with the nature of the country, 

 as, in some places, if the mist hangs upon the hills and 

 drags along the woods, instead of overspreading the level 

 ground in a morning, it will turn to rain. The contrary, 

 when it comes down fiom the hills, and settles in the 

 vallics. 



There is commonly either a strong dew or a mist over 

 the ground between a red eve and a gray morn; but if a 

 red morning succeeds, there is no dew. 



If a white mist in an evening or night is spread over a 

 meadow through which a river passes, it will be drawn up 

 by the next morning's sun, and the day afterwards will be 

 bright. 



When a raiirbow appears in the morning, rain; in the 

 evening, fine. The frustrum of a rainbow, rain; predomi- 

 nantly, red, wind; green or blue, rain; appearing in bois- 

 terous weather in the north, fine. 



Lightning without thunder, after a clear day, is a sign 

 of the continuance of fair weather. 



Sky. — When those vapours which the heat of the day 

 exhales from the earth are precipitated by the cold night, 

 then the sky is clear in the morning; but if they still re- 

 main in the air, rain may be expected. 



A dark thick sky, lasting for some time, without either 

 sun or rain, changes to a fair clear sky before it turns to 

 rain. 



When a lowering redness spreads far upwards from the 

 horizon, either in the morning or evening, it is succeeded 

 either by rain or wind, frequently by both; and when a 

 fiery redness, with rugged clouds, extends towards the 

 zenith in an evening, a high wind from the west or south- 

 west, attended with rain, follows; when the sky is tinged 

 with a sea-green colour near the horizon, when it ought to 

 be blue, rain will continue and increase; when of a dead 

 blue, it is abundantly loaded with vapours, and will be 

 shower}'. 



When the canopy is higli, fair; low, rainy; oi-ange co- 

 loured in the morning, rain; deep blue ground, fair; pale 

 blue, rainy. 



One observation is general, we believe, — "the evening 

 red, the morning gray, are sure signs of a fair day;" and 

 it is founded upon this circumstance, that if the abundance 

 of vapours denoted by the red evening sky descends in 

 dew, or is otherwise so equally dispersed in the air, that 

 the morning shall appear gray, a fine day may be expected 

 from that equal state of the atmosphere. 




118 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



If in a morning some parts of the sky appear green, be- 

 tween the clouds, while the sky is blue above, stormy wea- 

 ther is quickly approaching. 



Sun. — Rising orangy, rain; rising red and fiery, wind 

 and rain; cloudy, and the clouds decrease, certain fair 

 weather; rising dimly, drizzly. If the sun's rays breaking 

 through the clouds are visible in the air, it is a pi-oof that 

 the air is sensibly filled with vapours, which reflect the 

 rays to the sight, and these vapours will soon produce 

 rain. When there is a haziness aloft in the air, so that the 

 sun's light fades by degrees, and his orb looks whitish and 

 ill defined, it is one of the most certain signs of rain. 



Sun setting foul, rain; red, wind or rain; blue, rain; 

 dusk)-, streaked with red, storm; purple, fine; bright, fine; 

 when the sun appears white at setting, or goes down into 

 a dusky bank of clouds, it portends the approach and con- 

 tinuance of bad weather. 



Moon and Sta7~s. — When the moon and stars grow dim 

 in the night with a haziness in the air, and a ring or circle 

 appears round the moon, rain is at hand. 



If the moon looks red, it is a sign of wind; if pale and 

 dim, of rain; if white, and of her natural colour, with the 

 sky clear, of fair weather. 



Should the moon be rainy throughout her course, it 

 will clear up at the ensuing change, and rain will probably 

 fall in a few days after, and continue; if, on the contrary, 

 the moon has been fair, and at the change it rains, fine 

 weather will, in all likelihood, be restored about the fourth 

 or fifth day of the moon, and be of some duration. When 

 the moon is bright with sharp tips, fair; new moon not ap- 

 pearing till the fourth da)-, rainy month; the lower horn 

 of the new moon sullied, foul weather before the full; the 

 middle, storms about the full; the upper horn, foul about 

 the wane. Saturda3^'s moon, rainy month. 



Atmosphere. — Cold after rain, rain; cold in summer, 

 rain; warm in winter, rain; sultry in summer, thunder; 

 heavy, fair; light, rain; moist, rain; dry, fair. 



Rain. — Sudden rain seldom lasts long; coming on gra- 

 dually, and when the air grows thick by degrees, and the 

 sun, moon, or stars, shine more and more dim, it is likely 

 to continue six hours. Beginning with a high southerly 

 wind, and the wind subsides, rain for twelve hours or 

 more, and sometimes continues until a strong north wind 

 clears the air; beginning before sun-rise, will end before 

 noon; a shower before sun-rise, a fine day usually suc- 

 ceeds; beginning an hour or two after sun-rise, a rainy 

 day; setting in wet between eleven and twelve o'clock, a 

 rainy afternoon; clearing up about that time, the after- 

 noon fine; cold wind after rain, more rain; a squall, or 

 rain, or hail, settled fair; a rainy Friday, the same wea- 



ther on Sunday; and a wet Sabbath is frequently followed 

 by a daggly week. 



Sounds, such as bells, noise of waters, beasts, birds, 

 heard distinctly from a great distance, portend rain. If 

 the earth, or any fenny places, yield any extraordinary 

 scents, or any disagreeable smells arise from drains, rain. 

 A white frost, rain within three days; the more than usual 

 sinking of rivers, presages rain. The speedy drying of 

 the surface of the earth denotes a northerly wind and fair 

 weather; and its becoming moist, southerly wind and rain, 

 for the air sucks up all the moisture on the surface, even 

 though the sky be overcast, and that is a sure sign of fine 

 weather; but if the earth continue damp, and water stand 

 in shallow places, no trust should be put in the clearest 

 sky; for, in this case, it is deceitful. 



ilnimals. — If cattle or sheep feed greedily and faster 

 than ordinary when it rains, it is a sign of the rain's con- 

 tinuance; and when sheep skip and play wantonly, rain is 

 at no great distance. If the sheep wind up the hills in the 

 morning to their pasture, and feed near the tops, the wea- 

 ther, although cloudy and drizzling, will clear away by 

 degrees, and terminate in a fine day; but if they feed in 

 the bottoms, the rain will continue and increase. Geese 

 and ducks more noisy, and washing and diving more than 

 usual, rain; cock crowing in the middle of the day, and 

 peacock squalling much, rain ; hawks hovering high in the 

 air, fine weather; owls screaming frequently in the even- 

 ing when foul, fair and frosty. 



Swallows skimming the surface of waters, rain; so long 

 as they keep aloft after their prey, the sky is serene; but 

 when they descend and flit along the surface of the earth 

 or water, rain is not far off. A drought of three months' 

 duration broke up at the summer solstice in 1775: the 

 day previous to the rain falling, the swallows flew A-ery 

 near the ground, w-hich they had never done during the 

 whole period of the dry weather. Sparrows chirping 

 much in a fine morning, rain. 



Dogs are said by some to be particularly sleepy, and to 

 eat grass, before rain; but grass is a salutary vomit which 

 nature prompts them to take at all times, when their sto- 

 machs require such an evacuation; of course it is not an 

 unerring proof that the approach of rain alone drives them 

 to seek this remedj^. Moles throwing up more earth than 

 usual, and its being small and dry, and their appearance 

 sometimes above ground, rain. Worms creeping in num- 

 bers out of the ground, rain: and from the same principle, 

 that they as well as moles, are sensible of the access of 

 something new in the atmosphere, and to the surface of 

 the earth. Frogs appearing of a golden hue, fine; dusky 

 colour, rain: and toads, in an evening, crawling over the 

 road or beaten path, where they are seldom seen, but 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



when restless from the expectation of approaching rain. 

 Fishes are supposed to be affected, since thej- cease to bite 

 freely, when rain is depending. All sorts of insects are more 

 stirring than ordinary against rain. Bees are in fullest em- 

 ploy, but, if likely to rain, confine their industry to where 

 they can reach their hives before the storm comes on; when 

 they fly far abroad, and stay out late, fine. When the com- 

 mon flesh flies are more bold and greedy, rain; when small 

 flies flock together in great numbers, about the beams of 

 the sun, a little before it sets, fine. Ants bustle more than 

 usual, move their eggs to dry places, and then retire to 

 their burrows before rain falls. Gnats playing in the open 

 air, heat; when they form a vortex in the shape of a co- 

 lumn, it announces fine weather; when they collect and 

 dance in the shade, showers; and when they sting much, 

 cold and rain. Spiders crawling abroad, rain. Bats flying 

 more numerously and more early in the evening, fine. 



Chronic pains being more violent than usual, rain in 

 summer, frost in winter. A disagreeable languor is gene- 

 rally felt before thunder. 



A serene autumn denotes a windy winter; a windy win- 

 ter, a rainy spring; a rainj- spring, a fine summer; a fine 

 summer, a windy autumn: but it is very rarely that the 

 seasons succeed each other in the same manner for two 

 years together. It has been remarked, that, if at the be- 

 ginning of the winter, the south wind blow, and then the 

 north, it portends cold; but should the north wind first 

 blow, the winter will be mild. A hot and dry September, 

 a cold spring; summer moist and cool, a hard winter: if walls 

 that used to be damp are peculiarly dry at the commence- 

 ment of winter, a hard winter may be predicted, for it shows 

 a dry air, which, in winter, is always joined with frost. 



Animals are affected by rain, wind, &c. and in a variety 

 of instances afford notice of their approach. 



The leech, kept in a common eight ounce phial, three- 

 fourths filled with water, (changed once a week in sum- 

 mer, and twice in winter,) and covered with a bit of linen 

 rag,is a sure prognosticatorof the alterations in the weather. 

 The following are its indications: — In serene weather, it 

 lies rolled up at the bottom in a spiral form. When it is 

 about to rain in the forenoon, it creeps to the top and 

 remains there, till the weather is settled. Previous to 

 wind, it keeps in rapid motion, and seldom rests, till it 

 begins to blow hard. If a remarkable storm of thunder 

 and rain is to succeed, it lodges some daj-s before conti- 

 nually without the water, and is very uneasy and convulsed. 

 In frost, as well as in clear w-eather, it lies at the bottom ; 

 and in snow or rain, it keeps at the mouth of the phial. 



In the account of animal barometers, this anecdote is re- 

 markable. A gentleman, some few years since, brought a 

 pointer dog, from South Carolina, ^vho was a prognosti- 



cator of bad weather. "Whenever I observed him, (says 

 his master,) prick up his ears in a listening posture, 

 scratching the deck, and rearing himself up, to look over 

 10 the windward, where he would eagerly snuff up the 

 wind, though it was the finest weather imaginable, I was 

 sure of a succeeding tempest; and this animal was grown so 

 useful to us, that whenever we perceived the fit upon him, 

 we immediately reefed our sails, and took in our spare 

 canvas, to prepare for the worst." 



It is a sign of rain, when the soot collected round pots 

 or kettles, takes fire, in the form of small points, like 

 grains of millet, because this phenomenon denotes, that the 

 air is cold and moist. 



The moon is supposed to have influence on the weather. 

 The following table ascribed to the illustrious astronomer. 

 Dr. Herschell, is constructed upon a philosophical consi- 

 deration of the attraction of the sun and moon in their se- 

 veral positions, respecting the earth; confirmed by the expe- 

 rience of many years' actual observations, and will, without 

 trouble, and with great truth suggest to the observer, what 

 kind of weather will follow the moon's entrance into any 

 of her quarters. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



In extracting these remarks, it may not be amiss to ob- 

 serve, that every season has its peculiar characteristic, and 

 it is asserted by an intelligent observer, that the same 

 augury which in a fair season foretels fair, will, in a rainy 

 one, presage wet weather; therefore the characteristic of 

 the season ought to be pointed out before the quality of 

 the weather can be prognosticated. 



AN EXCURSION TO LAKE GEORGE. 



It was a beautiful morning in the month of August, 

 that I set out from Saratoga, in company with a pleasant 

 little party, on a visit to Lake George. Few who have 

 read or travelled in any degree, are ignorant how much 

 classic ground lies between the two places, — and our inte- 

 rest and attention were kept much occupied by various 

 objects along the road, until we reached Glenn's Falls. This 

 is decidedly one of the wildest and most romantic cascades 

 we have ever beheld. The water is broken up and thrown 

 about from rock to rock in the most picturesque and fan- 

 ciful manner. Cooper has given a very lively and faith- 

 ful description of this beautiful fall, in his " Last of the 

 Mohicans." I had the volume with me, and read his 

 portraiture as I stood on the bridge near the cascade, and 

 te had of course an excellent opportunity of judging of the 

 ' truth and justice of the picture. After dining at this place, 

 we resumed our road, and reached Lake George, about the 

 middle of the afternoon. It is truly one of the most en- 

 chanting scenes in the whole country, — presenting a beau- 

 tiful sheet of pure water, surrounded by mountains, which 

 are clothed in the richest livery of nature. If a man has 

 the least " music in his soul," such a spot as this is enough 

 to awaken in him at least the feeling, if not the actual per- 

 petration of poetry. I pity the being who can look upon 

 such a scene unmoved or ungratified. 



Towards evening we procured a boat, and set out, ladies 

 and all, on a fishing excursion. Nothing, perhaps, can be 

 clearer than its waters of this charming lake; — as you 

 glide gently over its surface, you can distinctly perceive 

 the bottom, at the distance of many feet, and may observe 

 the active tenants of the limpid element pursuing their ra- 

 pid and not ungraceful gambols around and beneath your 

 boat. We had pretty good sport, — and although none of 

 us professed anglers, hauled in the perch in considera- 

 ble numbers. It was not a little amusing to observe tlie 

 animated zeal with which the ladies entered into the occu- 

 pation, and to notice the great eagerness they manifested 

 for success, and the alarm which its attainment occasioned 

 them. We found it very necessary, when any one of 



them was so fortunate as to secure an unwary straggler, 

 to be on the watch, — for as soon as their rods were suffi- 

 ciently elevated to raise their prey out of the water, the 

 little dangler came flying about among our heads, threat- 

 ening us with no very agreeable salute, until some gentle- 

 man of the company had secured him, and delivered him 

 over to the fair captor, who was generally too much afraid 

 of her prize to take him into actual possession. After two 

 or three hours employed in fishing, and rowing about the 

 lake, we returned to a comfortable supper at the hotel, 

 and in the evening were entertained with an exhibition 

 of the wonderful echo at this place. On the firing of a 

 gun, the sound reverberated for a considerable distance 

 along the opposite shore, then seemed to return, and finally 

 appeared to run back into the woods immediately across. 

 In the morning, with the exception of the ladies, we 

 betook ourselves again to the lake, with our boat and our 

 rods, — but unaccompanied by the success of the preced- 

 ing evening. The perch and the trout kept warily out of 

 the way, and we returned, after a considerable time fruit- 

 lessly expended, with a very moderate specimen of our 

 abilities in the meditative art of angling. Highly gratified 

 with our short visit to the lake, we again took carriage, 

 and made our way back to Saratoga. W. 



RATTLESNAKES. 



Few persons are aware of the existence of Rattlesnakes 

 near Philadelphia. The writer has in his possession the 

 rattles taken from a snake about thirty inches in length, 

 killed by a farmer of New-Jersey, within twelve miles of 

 this city. This gentleman last year, also killed another on 

 the same tract of land, which had thirteen rattles. It was 

 discovered on a private road which crossed his land; the 

 extremities of the snake reached beyond each rut of the 

 road, and was supposed to measure six feet in length. 



PARTRIDGES. 



A short excursion to the country will convince any one, 

 that there may be anticipated a good fall's shooting at these 

 birds. From some districts, I have been told by farmers, 

 that they have never known a season of so great plenitude 

 as the present. The writer himself counted no less than 

 a dozen different male birds in one neighbourhood last 

 week. This rapid increase is owing altogether to the 

 care of farmers, and the forbearance of Sportsmen; and it 

 is to be hoped the approaching fall will pass over, without 

 marking the destruction of many of these birds. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



BIRDS' EGGS. 



AND DESCRIPTION OF NESTS, 



[Plate XI. Vol. 2.] 



shelter them with their bodies. The eggs are three, some- 

 times four, large for the bird, of a dun clay colour, and 

 marked with numerous small spots of reddish purple. A 

 flat, dry sandy beach, just beyond the reach of the summer 

 tides, is their favourite place for breeding. 



1. Black Skimmer. 



4. Meadow Lark. 



The nest is a mere hollow, formed in the sand, with- 

 out any materials. The female lays three eggs, almost 

 exactly oval, of a dirty white, marked with large spots of 

 brownish black, and intermixed witli others of pale Indian 

 ink. These eggs measure one inch and three quarters, by 

 one inch and a quarter. Half a bushel and more of eggs 

 has sometimes been collected from one sand-bar, within 

 the compass of half an acre. These eggs have something 

 of a fishy taste; but are eaten by many people on the 

 coast. The female sits on them only during the night, or 

 in wet and stormy weather. The young remain for seve- 

 ral weeks before they are able to fly; are fed with great 

 assiduity by both parents; and seem to delight in lying 

 with loosened wings, flat on the sand, enjoying its invigo- 

 rating warmth. They breed but once in the season. 



2. Lesser Tern. 



About the twenty-fifth of May, or beginning of June, 

 the female begins to lay. The eggs are dropt on the dry 

 and warm sand, the heat of which, during the day, is fully 

 sufficient for the purpose of incubation. This heat is 

 sometimes so great, that one can scarcely bear the hand 

 in it for a few moments, without inconvenience. The 

 wonder would therefore be the greater, should the bird sit 

 on her eggs during the day, when her warmth is altogether 

 unnecessary, and perhaps injurious, than that she should 

 cover them only during the damps of night, and in wet 

 and stormy weather. They are generally four in number, 

 and placed on the flat sands, safe beyond the reach of the 

 highest summer tide. They are of a yellowish brown 

 colour, blotched with rufous, and measure nearly an inch 

 and three-quarters in length. 



3. Pijjing Plover. 



The nests of these birds are formed with little art: 

 being merelj' shallow concavities dug in the sand, in which 

 the eggs are laid, and, during the day at least, left to the 

 influence of the sun to hatch them. The parents, how- 

 ever, always remain near the spot to protect them from in- 

 jury, and probably, in cold rainj- or stormy weather, to 

 H H 



The nest of this species is built generally in, or below, 

 a thick tuft or tussock of grass; it is composed of dry 

 grass, and fine bent laid at bottom, and wound all around, 

 leaving an arched entrance level with the ground; the in- 

 side is lined with fine stalks of the same materials, disposed 

 with great regularity. The eggs are four, sometimes five, 

 bluish white, marked with specks and several large 

 blotches of reddish brown, chiefly at the thick end. 



5. Brown Thrush. 



Early in May, this bird builds its nest, choosing a thorn 

 bush, low cedar, thicket of briars, dogwood sapling, or 

 cluster of vines for its situation, generally within a few 

 feet of the ground, and not unfrequently on the ground, at 

 the foot of a small bush. Outwardly it is constructed of 

 small sticks; then layers of dry leaves; and lastly lined 

 with fine fibrous roots, but without any plaster. The eggs 

 are five, thickly sprinkled with ferruginous grains. They 

 generally have two brood in a season. 



6. Red-bird, or Cardinal Ch'osbeak. 



Early in INIaj- they begin to prepare their nest, which is 

 very often fixed in a hollow, cedar, or laurel bush. Out- 

 wardly it is constructed of small twigs, tops of dry weeds, 

 and slips of vine bark, and lined with stalks of fine grass. 

 The female lays four eggs, thickly marked all over with 

 touches of brownish olive, on a dull white ground; and 

 they usually raise two brood in the season. 



7. Robin. 



The Robin builds a large nest, often on apple and cedar 

 trees, plasters it in the inside with mud, and lines it with 

 hay or fine grass. The female lays five eggs of a beautiful 

 sea green. 



S. Chipping Sparrow. 



The Cliipping-bird builds its nest most commonly in 

 cedar bushes, and apple-trees, and lines it thickly with 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



cow-hair. The female laj-s four or five eggs of a light 

 blue colour, with a few dots of purplish black near the 

 great end. 



9. Piirjile Grakle. 



On the tallest cedar and pine trees they generally build 

 their nests in company, about the beginning or middle of 

 April; sometimes ten or fifteen nests being on the same 

 tree, and measure five inches in diameter within, and four 

 in depth; are composed outwardly of mud, mixed with 

 long stalks and roots of a knotty kind of grass, and lined 

 with fine bent and horse hair. The eggs are five, of a 

 bluish olive colour, marked with large spots and straggling 

 streaks of black and dark brown, also with others of a 

 fainter tinge. They rarely produce more than one brood 

 in a season. The trees where these birds build are often at 

 no great distance from the farm-house, and overlook the 

 plantations. 



10. King Bird. 



The King bird builds his nest very often on the horizon- 

 tal branch of an apple tree; frequently also, as Catesby ob- 

 serves, on a sassafras tree, at no great height from the 

 ground, and on pear trees. The outside consists of small 

 slender twigs, tops of withered flowers of the plant yar- 

 row, and others, well wove together with tow and wool: 

 and is made large, and remarkably firm and compact. It 

 is usually lined with fine dry fibrous grass, and horse hair. 

 The eggs are five, of a very pale cream colour, or dull 

 white, marked with a few large spots of deep purple, and 

 other smaller ones of light brown, chiefly, though not alto- 

 gether, towards the great end. They generally build 

 twice in the season. 



11. Cat Bird. 



This bird builds its nest about the beginning of May. 

 The place chosen for this purpose is generallj' a thicket of 

 briars or brambles, a thorn bush, thick vine, cedar, or the 

 fork of a small sapling; no great solicitude is shown for 

 concealment, though few birds appear more interested for 

 the safety of their nest and young. The materials are dry 

 leaves and weeds, small twigs and fine dry grass; the inside 

 is lined with the fine black fibrous roots of some plant. 

 The female lays four, sometimes five eggs, of a uniform, 

 gi-eenish blue colour, without any spots. They generally 

 raise two, and sometimes three brood in a season. 



12. Blue Bird. 



About the middle of March, the Blue bird is seen, ac- 

 companied by his mate, visiting the box in the garden, or 

 the hole in the old apple-tree, the cradle of some genera- 

 tions of his ancestors; and as soon as the spot is fixed on, 

 they begin to clean out the old nest, and the rubbish of 

 the former year, and to prepare for the reception of their 

 future ofispring. 



The female la3-s five, and sometimes six eggs, of a pale 

 blue colour; and raises two, and sometimes three broods in 

 a season; the male taking the youngest under his particu- 

 lar care while the female is again sitting. 



13. Song Sparrow. 



The Song Sparrow builds in the ground, under a tuft of 

 grass; the nest is formed of fine dry grass, and lined with 

 horse hair; the eggs are four or five, thickly marked with 

 spots of reddish brown on a bluish white ground; if not in- 

 terrupted, it raises three broods in the season. Nests with 

 young have been found as early as the twenty-sixth of April, 

 and as late as the twelfth of August. What is singular, 

 the same bird often fixes its nest in a cedar tree, five or 

 six feet from the ground. 



1 4 . Swa mp Bla ckh ird. 



About the twentieth of March, or earlier if the season 

 be open, they appear in the middle states, in numerous 

 though small parties, and frequent the low borders of 

 creeks, swamps, and ponds, till about the middle of 

 April, when they separate in pairs to breed; and about 

 the last week in April, or first in May, begin to con- 

 struct their nest. The place chosen for this is gene- 

 rally w-ithin the precincts of a marsh or swamp, meadow, 

 or other like watery situation. The spot usually a thicket 

 of alder bushes, at the height of six or seven feet from the 

 ground; sometimes in a detached bush in a meadow of 

 high grass; often in a tussock of rushes of coarse rank 

 grass; and not unfrequently in the ground. In all of which 

 situations they are found. When in a bush they are gene- 

 rally composed outwardly of wet rushes picked from the 

 swamp, and long tough grass in large quantit)', and well 

 lined with very fine bent. The rushes, forming the exterior, 

 are generally extended to several of the adjoining twigs, 

 round which they are repeatedly and securely twisted: a 

 precaution absolutely necessary for its preservation on ac- 

 count of the flexible nature of the bushes in which it is 

 placed. The same caution is observed when a tussock is cho- 

 sen, by fastening the tops together, and intertwining the ma- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



terials of which the nest is formed with the stalks of rushes 

 around. When placed in the ground, less care and fewer 

 materials being necessary, the nest is much simpler and 

 slighter than before. The female lays five eggs, of a very 

 pale light blue, marked with faint tinges of light purple 

 and long straggling lines and dashes of black. It is not 

 uncommon to find several nests in the same thicket, within 

 a few feet of each other. 



15. Cow Bunting, 



The most remarkable trait in the character of this species 

 is the unaccountable practice it has of dropping its eggs 

 into the nests of other birds, instead of building and hatch- 

 ing for itself; and thus entirely abandoning its progeny to 

 the care and mercy of strangers. 



About the twenty-fifth of March, or early in April, the 

 Cow-pen Bird makes his first appearance from the south, 

 sometimes in company with the Red-winged Blackbird, 

 more frequently in detached parties, resting early in the 

 morning, an hour at a time, on the tops of trees near 

 streams of water, appearing solitary, silent and fatigued. 

 They continue to be occasionally seen, in small solitary 

 parties, particularly along creeks and banks of rivers, so 

 late as the middle of June; after which we see no more of 

 them until about the beginning or middle of October, when 

 thej' rc-appear in much larger flocks. 



Those that pass in May and June, are frequently ob- 

 served loitering singly about solitary thickets, reconnoiter- 

 ing, no doubt, for proper nurses, to whose care they may 

 commit the hatching of their eggs, and the rearing of their 

 helpless orphans. Among the birds selected for this duty 

 are the following: — the Blue-bird, the Chipping Sparrow, 

 the Golden-crowned Thrush, the Red-eyed Flycatcher, 

 the Yellow-bird, the Maryland Yellow-throat, the AVhite- 

 eyed Flycatcher, the small Blue Gray Flycatcher, and the 

 Black and White Creeper; and, no doubt, many others, to 

 whom the same charge is committed. 



There is never but one egg of the Cow Bunting dropped 

 in the same nest. This egg is somewhat larger than that 

 of the Blue bird, thickly sprinkled with grains of pale 

 brown and gray on a dirty white ground. It is of a size 

 proportionable to that of the bird. 



16. Barn Swallow. 



Early in May the Barn Swallow builds its nest. From 

 the size and structure of the nest, it is nearly a week before 

 it is completely finished. It is in the form of an inverted 

 cone, with a perpendicular section cut off on that side by 

 which it adhered to the wood. At the top it has an extension 



of the edge, or offset, for the male or female to sit on occa- 

 sionally, as appears by the dung; the upper diameter is 

 about six inches by five, the height externally seven 

 inches. This shell is formed of mud, mixed with fine hay 

 as plasterers do their mortar with hair, to make it adhere 

 the better; the mud seems to be placed in regular strata, or 

 layers, from side to side; the hollow of this cone, (the 

 shell of which is about an inch in thickness,) is filled with 

 fine hay, well stuffed in; above that is laid a handful of 

 very large downy geese feathers; the eggs are five, white, 

 specked and spotted all over with reddish brown. Owing 

 to the semi-transparency of the shell, the eggs have a 

 slight tinge of flesh colour. The whole weighs about two 

 pounds. The situation of these nests is generally on the 

 pin which unites the rafters together. 



They have generally two broods in the season. The 

 first make their appearance about the second week in June: 

 and the last brood leave the nest about the tenth of August. 



' ^ ^ 'f^ White-Eyed Flycatcher. 



This bird builds a very neat little nest, often in tlie 

 figure of an inverted cone; it is suspended by the upper 

 edge of the two sides, on the circular bend of a prickly 

 vine, a species of Smilax that generally grows in low 

 thickets. Outwardly it is constructed of various light 

 materials, bits of rotten wood, fibres of dry stalks, of weeds, 

 pieces of paper, commonly newspapers, an article almost 

 always found about its nest; all these substances are inter- 

 woven with the silk of caterpillars, and the inside is lined 

 with fine dry grass and hair. The female lays five eggs, 

 pure white, marked near the great end with a very few 

 small dots of deep brown or purple. They generally raise 

 two brood in a season. They seem particularly attached 

 to thickets of this species of Smilax, and make a great ado 

 when any one comes near their nest; approaching within 

 a few feet, looking down, and scolding with great vehe- 

 mence. 



18. House IVren. 



This well known and familiar bird arrives about the 

 middle of April; and about the eighth or tenth of JMay 

 begins to build its nest, sometimes in the wooden cornice 

 under the eaves, or in a hollow cherry tree, but most 

 commonly in small boxes, fixed on the top of a pole, in or 

 near the garden, to which he is extremely partial, for the 

 ci-reat number of caterpillars and other larvae with which 

 it constantly supplies him. If all these conveniences are 

 wanting, he will even put up with an old hat, nailed on 

 the weather-boards, with a small hole for entrance: and 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



if even this be denied him, he will find some hole, corner, 

 or crevice, about the house, barn, or stable, rather than 

 abandon the dwellings of man. The twigs with which the 

 outward parts of the nest are constructed are short and 

 crooked that they may the better hook in with one ano- 

 ther, and the hole or entrance is so much shut up to pre- 

 vent the intrusion of snakes or cats, that it appears almost 

 impossible the body of the bird could be admitted; within 

 this is a layer of fine dried stalks of grass, and lastly fea- 

 thers. The eggs are six or seven, and sometimes nine, of 

 a red purplish flesh colour, innumerable fine grains of that 

 tint being tliickly sprinkled over the whole egg. They 

 generally raise two brood in a season; the first about the 

 beginning of June, the second in July. 



19. Quail, or Part ridge. 



The Quail begins to build early in May. The nest is 

 made on the ground, usually at the bottom of a thick tuft 

 of grass that shelters and conceals it. The materials and 

 leaves are fine dry grass, in considerable quantity. It is 

 well covered above, and an opening left on one side for en- 

 trance. The female lays from fifteen to twenty-four eggs, 

 of a pure white without any spots. 



themselves. The female lays six white eggs, marked 

 with minute specks of red; the first brood appears about 

 the beginning of June, and the second towards the end of 

 July. 



23. Marsh Wren. 



This little bird excels in the art of design, and con- 

 structs a nest, which, in durability, warmth, and conveni- 

 ence, is scarcely inferior to one, and far superior to many 

 other birds. This is formed outwardly of wet rushes 

 mixed with mud, well intertwisted, and fashioned into the 

 form of a cocoa nut. A small liole is left two-thirds up, 

 for entrance, the upper edge of which projects like a pent 

 house over the lower, to prevent the admission of rain. 

 The inside is lined with fine soft grass, and sometimes 

 feathers; and the outside, when hardened by the sun, re- 

 sists every kind of weather. This nest is generally sus- 

 pended among the reeds, above the reach of the highest 

 tides, and is tied so fast in every part to the surrounding 

 reeds, as to bid defiance to the winds and the waves. The 

 eggs are usually six, of a dark fawn colour, and very small. 

 The 3'oung leave the nest about the twentieth of June, and 

 they generally have a second brood in the same season. 



20. Sea-Side Finch. 



The nest of this species is found along the margins of the 

 sea and salt water inlets, and is built among the tall grass 

 and rushes common to these parts; the materials are exter- 

 nally of coarse salt grass, and inside of the smaller fibres 

 of the same article; the eggs are four or five in number, 

 and of a light blue ground, thickly sprinkled with dark 

 brown spots, more iwrticularly at the great end. 



21. Black and JVhile Creeper. 



This bird completes its nest about the middle of May, 

 and is generally fixed on the ground, at the root of a bush 

 or sapling, and is composed externally of leaves, and in- 

 side of slight layers of cow or horse hair: no other sub- 

 stances compose its nest. The eggs are five in number, of 

 a pale flesh colour, sprinkled thickly with light reddish 

 brown spots. This nest is also a receptacle for the eggs of 

 the Cow Buntina;. 



22. Black-Capt Titmouse. 



About the middle of April, these birds begin to build, 

 choosing the deserted hole of a squirrel or woodpecker, 

 md sometimes with incredible labour digging out one for 



POISONOUS SERPENTS. 



Of the venomous serpents, the Rattlesnake of Ame- 

 rica, and the Cobra de Capella of India, are the most formi- 

 dable out of Europe; while the Viper, which, compared 

 with the former, is of little import, is the only European 

 serpent which bears a venomous character: and tlie latter 

 animal is annually so diminishing in numbers, that its 

 complete extinction may be calculated on at no very dis- 

 tant period. Climate, we know, has a great influence in 

 the production and increase of reptiles of every kind, as 

 well as in imparting activity to the poison peculiar to ve- 

 nomous animals; and from this circumstance, we can rea- 

 dily comprehend, why the most formidable animals are to 

 be met with in the warmest latitudes. But it is well un- 

 derstood, if any credit can be given to historians, that 

 ancient Europe was infested with serpents, both in num- 

 ber and character, of which we hear nothing at the present 

 day; and the common Viper, we know, is annual!}- on 

 the decline. We must, therefore, look for some other 

 cause independently of climate, for this fortunate change 

 in the natural history of Europe; and we shall probably 



"V- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



125 



find it, in the advance of cultivation and agriculture pecu- 

 liar to modern Europe, and to this country in particular; 

 by which impenetrable forests and woods, that afforded 

 shelter to, and nurtured such animals, have been cut 

 down and cleared; extensive swamps, in which they were 

 also to be found, have been drained; and the haunts of 

 venomous reptiles have, in every direction, been disturbed 

 or destroyed by the hands of the cultivator. 



Though venomous serpents differ from each other in 

 magnitude, and in some of their external characters; yet 

 they all possess in common, cei-tain leading features by 

 which they may be distinguished from the other classes 

 which are not poisonous. 



In the venomous the head is flattened, scaly, and largo 

 in proportion to the body; the snout is rather broad; the 

 neck is thick; the skin is of a dirty hue, and less varie- 

 gated in its colour, and the body does not taper towards 

 the tail in so fine a point. But the leading feature of dis- 

 crimination is in the formation of the upper jaw; the ve- 

 nomous serpent having two or more fangs attached to it, 

 projecting out on each side beyond the other teeth, with 

 which they inflict their poisonous wounds. 



These fangs have, at their base in the upper jaw, a very 

 small sac or bag immediately attached, which serves as a 

 receptacle to the poison that has been secreted by a glan- 

 dular apparatus, situated at the back part of the head, and 

 behind each ear, and which by means of tubes or canals 

 running through the roof of the mouth, is conve3ed into 

 the sac to be ready for use. The fang itself to which the 

 sac is attached, is tubular; having an orifice on its outward 

 extremity large enough to admit of the fluid being ejected 

 by the pressure of the surrounding muscles, when the ani- 

 mal is excited to bite. 



The poison contained in the bag, is a yellowish, viscid, 

 tasteless liquid, very small in quantity, which, injected 

 into the blood vessels, proves frequently fatal: but which 

 may be taken into the mouth and stomach without any 

 danger. Indeed it is a common practice with the Viper 

 catchers, to suck the wound when the bite has been in- 

 flicted, and we have witnessed the same practice in the 

 West Indies among the negroes when bitten by any ve- 

 nomous animal. 



When the sac is ruptured, (as may be effected by draw- 

 ing the teeth of the animal,) the power of poisoning is 

 destroyed; and of this, the Viper catchers avail them- 

 selves, by irritating the animal to seize a piece of cloth, 

 which the Viper grasps so closely, as easily to admit of 

 tlie tooth being extracted. 



In Bingley's Animal Biograph)-, the name of a gentle- 

 man is mentioned, who saw a Rattlesnake, in which the 

 fangs had been extracted, that was so completely tamed, 

 I I 



"that it would turn its back to be scratched with the 

 same delight, that a cat displays when rubbed before a fire; 

 and would answer to the calls of the boys, and follow them 

 like any other domesticated animal." In the same man- 

 ner, the Cobra de Capella is tamed in India, and the Viper 

 in England. 



The flesh of all these animals, so far from being poison- 

 ous, is extremely nutritive; and among savage nations, is 

 gale on the Rattlesnake, and cook it as others do eels; and 

 considered a great delicacy. " The American Indians re- 

 the peccary, the vulture, and other ravenous birds, feed 

 on its flesh." The negroes in the West Indies often make 

 snakes a part of their diet; and the use of the Viper has 

 long been well understood in England. 



The Crotalus, or Rattlesnake, is peculiar to America, 

 and is found in almost every part of it, from the Straits of 

 Magellan to Canada. It reaches its greatest magnitude,how- 

 ever, and assumes its most violent character, in the warmer 

 American latitudes, where humidity mostly prevails, and 

 where cultivation has made the least progress. It is dis- 

 tinguished from other serpents, by the number of its scales 

 on the abdomen and the under surface of its tail; in having 

 a double set of poisonous fangs; and by the tail terminating 

 in a large scaly appendage, consisting of several articulated 

 horny processes, which move and make a rattling noise. 



The Rattlesnake is divided into five species, each differ- 

 ing in their external character, size, and malignancy; of 

 which the Crotalus Horridus is by far the largest and 

 most formidable. They are all, like the Viper, vivipa- 

 rous; that is, they produce their young alive, and com- 

 pletely formed, generally about twelve in number; and, 

 like that animal also, they receive them into their mouth, 

 when alarmed or threatened with danger. 



The Crotalus Horridus, or Bandied Rattlesnake, is 

 from five to eight feet in length, and its body is about the 

 circumference of the human arm; the back being of an 

 orange tawny mixed with blue, the belly of an ash co- 

 lour inclining to the aspect of lead; while the head is dis- 

 tinguished by a scale, hanging like a pent-house over 

 each eye. But the most curious part of its external confor- 

 mation is its tail, from which the animal derives its name. 

 This consists of a kind of rattle, formed of a certain num- 

 ber of loosely connected joints or articulations, commenc- 

 ing when the animal is about three years old, and adding 

 one each succeeding year; so tliat they generally judge of 

 its age by the number of articulations of its tail, which, in 

 some instances, have amounted to nearly forty. 



This apparatus, when taken from the tail, bears a resem- 

 blance to the curb chain of a bridle, and is composed of a 

 certain number of thin, hard, hollow bones, loosely con- 

 nected to each other; so that when the animal shakes its 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 



tail, (which it always does when irritated and alarmed,) 

 it produces a noise like a rattle. As this is to be heard at 

 a considerable distance, it affords time for escape to those 

 animals that otherwise might be in the greatest danger 

 from its approach. This animal, however, never inflicts 

 a wound upon man, excepting when trodden upon, or irri- 

 tated; but, on the contrary, flies from his advance when- 

 ever he finds the least chance of escaping; and, when we 

 add to this circumstance, the precautions observed by the 

 inhabitants, when engaged in the woods where these ani- 

 mals prevail, it will easily be understood, why wounds 

 from the bite of a Rattlesnake, are not of very frequent 

 occurrence. 



When, however, the animal is accidentally or inten- 

 tionally irritated, it immediately throws itself into a cir- 

 cle, pushes back its head, and with great rapidity and 

 violence, injects its deadly poison into the object of its 

 vengeance; and according to the degree of irritation, re- 

 peats its attack as often as its strength will allow. 



The bite, at first, resembles the sting of the wasp or 

 bee; but the parts rapidly swell, become livid, and extend 

 to the body and head, followed by delirium, fainting fits, 

 convulsions, general swelling and discoloration of the 

 body, and death; which takes place, in some instances, in 

 three hours after the bite has been inflicted; at other 

 times, at more distant periods; and if the weather has not 

 been extremely hot, or the animal much enraged, the 

 wounded man has a distant chance of recovery. 



This tardiness in the operation of the Rattlesnake poi- 

 son, may be attributed to climate; as we know that the 

 whole of the snake tribe become torpid as the winter ap- 

 proaches; and that they increase in power and activity 

 upon the temperature of the atmosphere advancing, when 

 their bites become in proportion formidable and danger- 

 ous. Much may also depend upon a large blood-vessel 

 being wounded, or only one of its extreme branches; the 

 poison, in the former instance, being conveyed more ra- 

 pidly into the system than in the latter, when there may 

 be time for its being so diluted as considerably to weaken 

 its elficacy. This observation will apply to the bites of 

 ail venomous animals; and it will serve to explain, why 

 we sometimes hear of very rapid effects being produced 

 by treatment, and at other times, why the patient recovers 

 even without the trial of any remedy. 



A circumstance is related which strongly evinces the 

 great activity of the Rattlesnake poison. 



"An American farmer was one day mowing with his 

 negroes, when he by chance trod on a Rattlesnake, that 

 immediately turned upon him and bit his boot. At night, 

 when he went to bed, he was attacked with sickness; he 

 swelled, and before a physician could be called in, he died. 



All his neighbours were surprised at the suddenness of 

 his death; but the corpse was buried without examination. 

 A few days after, one of his sons put on his father's boots, 

 and at night when he pulled them off, he was seized with 

 the same symptoms, and died on the following morning. 

 At the sale of the effects, a neighbour purchased the boots; 

 and on putting them on, experienced the like dreadful 

 symptoms with the father and son. A skilful physician, 

 however, being sent for, who had heard of the preceding 

 affair, suspected the cause, and by applying proper re- 

 medies recovered the patient. The fatal boots were 

 now examined, and the two fangs of the snake were dis- 

 covered to have been left in the leather, with the poison . 

 bladder adhering to them. They had penetrated entirely 

 through; and both the father, the son, and the purchaser 

 of the boots, had imperceptibly scratched themselves with 

 their points on pulling tliem off." 



The Cobra de Capello, or Hooded Serpent, to which 

 arc given the different appellations of Coluber Naja, 

 Spectacle Serpent, and the like, is a native of the East 

 Indies, and of South America; and is still a more formida- 

 ble animal than the Rattlesnake, as its bite is stated to be 

 followed by certain and speedy death. A near relation of 

 ours, who has passed many years in India, informed us 

 tliat he has been witness to three persons being killed in 

 seven minutes from its bite; and we have other instances 

 of the rapidity of this most destructive poison when re- 

 ceived into the human frame — a circumstance not to be 

 wondered at, when we take into consideration the heat of 

 the country of which it is a native; though the effects of 

 the poison, like that of the Rattlesnake, will no doubt be 

 varied by season, and by the manner in which the bite be 

 inflicted. 



This animal is from three to six feet in length, and 

 about four inches in circumference. Its head is smaller 

 in proportion to its body, than either the Rattlesnake or 

 the Viper; having on its neck a tumour or loose mass of 

 integument, flat, and covered with scales, and on the top 

 of it, a very conspicuous patch resembling a pair of spec- 

 tacles. Its colour is a pale rusty brown, and beneath, a 

 bluish white tinged with yellow — the tail, unlike the 

 other serpents described, tapering to a slender, sharply 

 pointed extremity. Its eyes are peculiarly shining, fierce, 

 and bright. Its fangs, with which it inflicts its deadly 

 wound, are placed in the upper jaw, and their mechanism 

 is the same as that of other venomous serpents. Like 

 them it retreats before human pursuit; but, when irritated, 

 it is much more active in its movements, and more decided 

 in its attacks. When preparing to assail its enemy, the 

 body is erected, the head is bent down so as to admit of 

 the integuments of the neck being extended over it in the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



form of a hood or cloak, from whence it derives its name; 

 when, opening its mouth, and exhibiting its poisonous 

 fangs, it springs on its enemy with the greatest agility and 

 effect. Its bites, we have already stated, have a most 

 deadly tendency, which has been fully illustrated by JNIr. 

 Boag, in the New Annual Register for 1800; though, 

 from the causes we have noticed, instances are not want- 

 ing of persons recovering from them without the aid of 

 any remedy. 



The greatest enemy to this serpent is the ichneumon, 

 or mangoose weasel, which feeds upon snakes and other 

 reptiles. When the ichneumon falls in with the Cobra 

 de Capello, the former takes every opportunity of pro- 

 voking the first attack; placing himself in an attitude the 

 most favourable to slip on one side and seize the head of 

 his antagonist, which most frequently produces instant 

 death. But if it fail, he bites the animal's tail to make 

 him rise again, when the second seizure generally proves 

 successful. If bitten by the serpent, the weasel sucks the 

 poison from the wound; and feeds upon an herb which, in 

 India, is considered to be an antidote, and thus escapes 

 altogether the mortal efiects whicli other animals uni- 

 formly experience from the bite of this very formidable 

 serpent. 



The poison both of the Rattlesnake and of the Cobra de 

 Capello, is collected and preserved by the untutored In- 

 dians for the purpose of arming their arrows; and the con- 

 sequences of the wounds they inflict, from an instrument 

 so destructive, may be easily anticipated. The food of 

 these snakes is confined to birds, and to small animals. 



There are many other poisonous serpents of a very dan- 

 gerous character to be met with in America, in Africa, 

 and in the East and West Indies; but as the two we have 

 noticed may be considered the most formidable, we have 

 thought it sufiicient to confine our observations to them; 

 more particularly as the symptoms which follow the bites 

 of all such venomous animals, appear to be much the same, 

 differing only in degree and consequences. 



Pain, swelling, discoloration of the parts affected, an 

 extension of these symptoms to those parts through which 

 the poison has to pass on its way to the system, and an 

 enlargement and discoloration of the whole body; a small 

 quick pulse, fainting fits, vomiting, jaundice, delirium, 

 hiccup, and convulsions, close the scene, and mark the 

 fatal issue in those cases where speedy relief has not been 

 obtained, or where the natural resources of the constitution 

 are not sufficient to resist the morbid effects of the poison. 



With respect to the treatment of these most formidable 

 symptoms, when produced by the bite of the Rattlesnake, 

 the Cobra de Capello, and of other foreign serpents, with- 

 out experience, we can have little to offer but conjecture. 



We are told of a variety of remedies, however, that are 

 used in countries where these animals prevail; but these 

 are so opposite in their nature and tendency, that we 

 hardly know how to attach importance to their efiicacy. 



The serpentarii, or Virginian snake root, and the seneka, 

 or Rattlesnake root, are each used topically in the form 

 of poultices, and given internally, and have had the 

 reputation, in America, of curing the bite of the Rat- 

 tlesnake and of other American serpents. And the head 

 of the animal bruised and laid upon the part affected, as 

 well as the topical application of a paste prepared by the 

 Indians, to which they have given the appellation of snake- 

 stone, are also reputed specifics in such cases; but we fear 

 the efiicacy of each is entitled to but little credit. If ap- 

 plications can be of any avail in casualties so desperate, 

 assiduous frictions of unctuous substances, but particularly 

 of olive oil, or of equal parts of laudanum and volatile 

 alkali, over the parts aflected, and full doses of carbonate 

 of ammonia conjoined with antispasmodics administered 

 internally and frequently repeated, from their uniform 

 success in the bite of the viper, appear to be well calcu- 

 lated to produce good effects, and are therefore well wor- 

 thy of trial. 



Dr. Orfila, a French author, who has published a valua- 

 ble treatise on poisons, has recommended the application 

 of a ligature above the wounded part, so as to check the 

 returning blood to the heart, without stopping the circu- 

 lation; and then to apply caustics, so as to destroy deeply 

 the whole of the surrounding parts. His internal reme- 

 dies are volatile alkali, wine, and active diaphoretics. 



In the second volume of the Medico-Chirurgical Trans- 

 actions, Mr. Ireland, then surgeon to the 60th regiment, 

 has given an account of four cases, in which arsenic had 

 been successfully administered internally for some very 

 desperate bites from the Coluber Carinatus, a most veno- 

 mous serpent, peculiar to the island of St. Lucia, in the 

 West Indies; and from whose bites, an officer and seve- 

 ral men belonging to the 6Sth regiment, had some months 

 before fallen a sacrifice. 



In the four successful cases to which lie has alluded, from 

 the flesh being much torn by the bites, he removed the 

 rugged edges of the integuments, and administered two 

 drachms of Fowler's solution, (which is equal to one grain 

 of arsenic,) in a draught composed of peppermint water 

 and ten drops of laudanum; to which, when taken, half an 

 ounce of lime juice was added, to produce the efferves- 

 cent effect; and this was repeated every half hour for four 

 successive hours; the parts being frequently fomented and 

 rubbed with a liniment, composed of half an ounce of oil 

 of turpentine, and an ounce and a half of olive oil. In a 

 few days, the patients recovered, and returned to their 




128 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



duty. He succeeded on another case at Martinique, 

 where the patient was bitten b}' a serpent, reported to be 

 as venomous and fatal as that of St. Lucia. 



Mr. Boag, who has had some experience in the bites of 

 the Gobra de Capello, recommends a weak solution of the 

 nitrate of silver to be assiduously applied to the part, and 

 small doses of it to be given internally. Should, however, 

 future experience decide upon the inefficacy of all these 

 remedies; in that case, the only security against the con- 

 sequences of wounds so alarming, (if security is to be ob- 

 tained,) would be a very deep extirpation of the surround- 

 ing parts, or the rapid extinction of the vital principle in 

 them by the most active caustics. — Ltmpritre' s Nat. Hist, 



INFLUENCE OF MAN IN DOMESTICATING 

 WILD ANIMALS. 



It has been well observed by M. F. Cuvier and JNI. 

 Dureau de la Malle, that unless some animals had mani- 

 fested in a wild state an aptitude to second the efforts of 

 man, their domestication would never have been attempted. 

 If they had all resembled the wolf, the fox, and the 

 hysna, the patience of the experimentalist would have 

 been exhausted by innumerable failures before he at last 

 succeeded in obtaining some imperfect results; so, if the 

 first advantages derived from the cultivation of plants had 

 been elicited by as tedious and costly a process as that by 

 which we now make some slight additional improvement 

 in certain races, we should have remained to this day in 

 ignorance of the greater number of their useful qualities. 



It is undoubtedly true, that many new habits and quali- 

 ties have not only been acquired in recent times by certain 

 races of dogs, but have been transmitted to their offspring. 

 But in these cases it will be observed, that the new pecu- 

 liarities have an intimate relation to the habits of the ani- 

 mal in a wild state, and therefore do not attest any ten- 

 dency to departure to an indefinite extent from the original 

 type of the species. A race of dogs employed for hunting 

 deer in the platform of Santa Fe, in Mexico, affords a 

 beautiful illustration of a new hereditary instinct. The 

 mode of attack, observes M. Roulin, which they employ, 

 consists in seizing the animal by the belly and overturn- 

 ing it by a sudden efibrt, taking advantage of the moment 

 when the body of the deer rests only upon the fore-legs. 

 The weight of the animal thus thrown over, is often six 

 times that of its antagonist. The dog of pure breed inhe- 

 rits a disposition to this kind of chase, and never attacks a 

 deer from before while running. Even should the latter. 



not perceiving him, come directly upon him, the dog steps 

 aside and makes his assault on the flank, whereas other 

 hunting dogs, though of superior strength and general 

 sagacity, which are brought from Europe, are destitute of 

 this instinct. For want of similar precautions, they are 

 often killed by the deer on the spot, the vertebras of their 

 neck being dislocated by the violence of the shock. 



A new instinct also has become hereditary in a mongrel 

 race of dogs employed by the inhabitants of the banks of 

 the Magdalena, almost exclusively in hunting the white- 

 lipped pecari. The address of these dogs consists in re- 

 straining their ardour, and attaching themselves to no 

 animal in particular, but keeping the whole herd in check. 

 Now, among these dogs some are found, which, the very 

 first time they are taken to the woods, are acquainted with 

 this mode of attack; whereas, a dog of another breed starts 

 forward at once, is surrounded by the pecari, and what- 

 ever may be his strength is destroyed in a moment. 



Some of our countrymen, engaged of late in conducting 

 the principal mining association in Mexico, carried out 

 with them some English greyhounds of the best breed, to 

 hunt the hares which abound in that country. The great 

 platform which is the scene of sport is at an" elevation of 

 about nine thousand feet above the level of the sea, and the 

 mercury in the barometer stands habitually at the height 

 of about nineteen inches. It was found that the greyhounds 

 could not support the fatigues of a long chase in this atte- 

 nuated atmosphere, and before they could come up with 

 their prej', tliey lay down gasping for breath; but these 

 same animals have produced whelps which have grown up, 

 and are not in tlie least degree incommoded by the want 

 of density in the air, but run down the hares with as 

 much ease as the fleetest of their race. 



The fixed and deliberate stand of the pointer has with 

 propriety been regarded as a mere modification of a habit, 

 which may have been useful to a wild race accustomed to 

 wind game, and steal upon it by surprise, first pausing for 

 an instant in order to spring with unerring aim. The 

 faculty of the Retriever, however, may justly be regarded 

 as more inexplicable and less easily referrible to the in- 

 stinctive passions of the species. M. Majendie, says a 

 French writer in a recently published memoir, having 

 learnt that there was a race of dogs in England, which 

 stopped and brought back game of their own accord, pro- 

 cured a pair, and having obtained a whelp from them, kept 

 it constantly under his eyes, until he had an opportunity 

 of assuring himself that, without having received any in- 

 struction, and on the very first day that it was carried to 

 the chase, it brought back game with as much steadiness 

 as dogs which had been schooled into the same manoeuvre 

 by means of the whip and collar. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



129 



Such attainments, as well as the habits and dispositions 

 which the Shepherd's Dog, and many others Inherit, seem 

 to be of a nature and extent which we can hardly explain 

 by supposing them to be modifications of instincts neces- 

 sary for the preservation of the species in a wild state. 

 When such remarkable habits appear in races of this spe- 

 cies, we may reasonably conjecture that they were given 

 with no other view than for the use of man, and the pre- 

 servation of the dog which thus obtains protection. 



As a general rule, we fully agree with M. F. Cuvier, that, 

 in studying the habits of animals, we must attempt, as far as 

 possible, to refer their domestic qualities to modifications of 

 instincts which are implanted in them in a state of nature; 

 and that writer has successfully pointed out, in an admira- 

 ble essay on the domestication of the mammalia, the true 

 origin of many dispositions which are vulgarly attributed 

 to the influence of education alone. But we should go too 

 far if we did not admit that some of the qualities of parti- 

 cular animals and plants may have been given solely with 

 a view to the connexion which it was foreseen would ex- 

 ist between them and man — especially when we see that 

 connexion to be in many cases so intimate, that the greater 

 number, and sometimes all the individuals of the species 

 which existon the earth, are in subjection to the human race. 



We can perceive in a multitude of animals, especially in 

 some of the parasitic tribes, that certain instincts and 

 organs are conferred for the purpose of defence or attack 

 against some other sjDCcies. Now if we are reluctant to 

 suppose the existence of similar relations between man, and 

 the instincts of many of the inferior animals, we adopt an 

 hypothesis no less violent, though in the opposite extreme 

 to that which has led to imagine the whole animate and 

 inanimate creation to have been made solely for the sup- 

 port, gratification, and instruction of mankind. 



ISIany species most hostile to our persons or property- 

 multiply in spite of our eflbrts to repress them; others, on 

 the contrary, are intentionally augmented many hundred- 

 fold in number by our exertions. In such instances we 

 must imagine the relative resources of man and of species, 

 friendly or inimical to him, to have been prospectively 

 calculated and adjusted. To withhold assent to this sup- 

 position would be to refuse what we must grant in respect 

 to the economy of Nature in every other part of the or- 

 ganic creation; for the various species of contemporary 

 plants and animals have obviously their relative forces 

 nicely balanced, and their respective tastes, passions, and 

 instincts so contrived, that they are all in perfect harmony 

 with each other. In no other manner could it happen, 

 that each species, surrounded as it is by countless dan- 

 gers, should be enabled to maintain its ground for periods 

 of considerable duration. 



Kk 



The docility of the individuals of some of our domestic 

 species extending, as it does, to attainments foreign to their 

 natural habits and faculties, may perhaps have been con- 

 ferred with a view to their association with man. But 

 lest species should be thereby made to vary indefinitely, 

 we find that such habits are never transmissible by gene- 

 ration. 



A pig has been trained to hunt and point game with 

 great activity and steadiness; and other learned individuals 

 of the same species, have been taught to spell; but such 

 fortuitous acquirements never become hereditary, for they 

 have no relation whatever to the exigencies of the animal 

 in a wild slate, and cannot therefore be developments of 

 any instinctive propensities. 



An animal in domesticity, says M. F. Cuvier, is not 

 essentially in a difierent situation in regard to the feeling 

 of restraint from one left to itself. It lives in society 

 without constraint, because without doubt it was a social 

 animal, and it conforms itself to the will of man, because 

 it had a chief to which in a wild state it would have yielded 

 obedience. There is nothing in its new situation that is not 

 conformable to its propensities; it is satisfying its wants 

 by submission to a master, and makes no sacrifice of its 

 natural inclinations. All the social animals when left to 

 themselves form herds more or less numerous, and all the 

 individuals of the same herd know each other^ are mu- 

 tually attached, and will not allow a strange individual to 

 join them. In a wild state, moreover, the}- obey some in- 

 dividual, which by its superiority has become the chief of 

 the herd. Our domestic species had originally this socia- 

 bility of disposition, and no solitary species, however easy 

 it may be io tame it, has yet afforded true domestic races. 

 We merely, therefore, develope to our own advantage, Dro- 

 pensities which propel the individuals of certain species to 

 draw near to their fellows. 



The sheep which we have reared is induced to follow 

 us, as it would be led to follow the flock among which it 

 was brought up, and when individuals of gregarious spe- 

 cies have been accustomed to one master, it is he alone 

 whom they acknowledge as their chief, he only whom they 

 obey. — " The elephant only allows himself to be led by 

 the carnac whom he has adopted; the dog itself, reared in 

 solitude with its master, manifests a hostile disposition to- 

 wards all others; and everj- body knows how dangerous 

 it is to be in the midst of a herd of cows, in pasturages 

 that are little frequented, when they have not at their head 

 the keeper who takes care of them." 



" Every thing, therefore, tends to convince us, that 

 formerly men were only, with regard to the domestic ani- 

 mals, what those who are particularly charged with the 

 care of them still are, namely, members of the society, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



which these animals form among themselves, and that they 

 are only distinguished in the general mass by the autho- 

 rity which they have been enabled to assume from their 

 superiority of intellect. Thus, every social animal which 

 recognizes man as a member, and as the chief of its herd, 

 is a domestic animal. It might even be said that from the 

 moment when such an animal admits man as a member of 

 its society, it is domesticated, as man could not enter into 

 such a society without becoming the chief of it." 



But the ingenious author whose observations we have 

 here cited, admits that the obedience which the individuals 

 of many domestic species yield indifferentl)^ to every per- 

 son is without analogy in any state of things which could 

 exist previously to their subjugation by man. Each troop 

 of wild horses, it is true, has some stallion for its chief, 

 who draws after him all the individuals of which the herd 

 is composed; but when a domesticated horse has passed 

 from hand to hand, and has served several masters, he 

 becomes equally docile towards any person, and is sub- 

 jected to the whole human race. It seems fair to presume, 

 that the capability in the instinct of the horse to be thus 

 modified, was given to enable the species to render greater 

 services to man, and, perhaps, the facility with which 

 many other acquired characters become hereditary in va- 

 rious races of the horse, may be explicable only on a like 

 supposition. The amble, for example, a pace to which 

 the domestic racers in Spanish America are exclusively 

 trained, has, in the course of several generations, become 

 hereditary, and is assumed by all the young colts before 

 they are broken in. 



It seems also reasonable to conclude, that the power be- 

 stowed on the horse, the dog, the ox, the sheep, the cat, 

 and many species of domestic fowls, of supporting almost 

 every climate, was given expressly to enable them to fol- 

 low man throughout all parts of the globe — in order that 

 we might obtain their services, and they our protection. 

 If it be objected that the elephant, which, by the union of 

 strength, intelligence, and docility, can render the great- 

 est services to mankind, is incapable of living in any but 

 the warmest latitudes, we may observe, that the quantity 

 of vegetable food required by this quadruped would render 

 its maintenance, in the temperate zone, too costly, and in 

 the arctic i»possible. 



Among fflie changes superinduced by man, none appear, 

 at first sight, more remarkable than the perfect tameness 

 of certain domestic races. It is well known, that at how- 

 ever early an age we obtain possession of the young of 

 many unreclaimed races, they will retain, throughout life, 

 a considerable timidity and apprehensiveness of danger; 

 whereas, after one or two generations, the descendants of 

 the same will habitually place the most implicit confidence 



in man. There is good reason, however, to suspect that 

 such changes are not without analogy in a state of nature, 

 or, to speak more correctly, in situations where man has 

 not interfered. 



Thus Dr. Richardson informs us, in his able history of 

 the habits of North American animals, that "in the re- 

 tired parts of the mountains, where the hunters had seldom 

 penetrated, there is no difficulty in approaching the Rocky 

 Mountain sheep, which there exhibit the simplicity of 

 character so remarkable in the domestic species, but 

 where they have been often fired at, they are exceedingly 

 wild, alarm their companions, on the approach of danger, 

 by a hissing noise, and scale the rocks with a speed and 

 agility that baffles pursuit." 



It is probable, therefore, that as man, in diffusing him- 

 self over the globe, has tajiied many wild races, so also he 

 has made many tame races wild. Had some of the larger 

 carniverous beasts, capable of scaling the rocks, made their 

 way into the North American mountains before our hun- 

 ters, a similar alteration in the instincts of the sheep would 

 doubtless have been brought about. 



No animal afibrds a more striking illustration of the 

 principal points we have been endeavouring to establish 

 than the elephant. For in the first place, the wonderful 

 sagacity with which he accommodates himself to the so- 

 ciety of man, and the new habits which he contracts, are 

 not the result of time nor of modifications produced in the 

 course of many generations. These animals will breed in 

 captivity, as is now ascertained, in opposition to the vul- 

 gar opinion of many modern naturalists, and in confor- 

 mity to that of the ancients ^Elian and Columella. Yet it 

 has always been the custom, as the least expensive mode 

 of obtaining them, to capture wild individuals in the 

 forests, usually when full grown, and in a few years after 

 they are taken, sometimes, it is said, in the space of a few 

 months, their education is completed. — LyelVs Geology. 



MAHOGANY TREES. 



There are three species of Mahogany: — Common 

 Mahogany, {Swietenia Mahogani,) Swietenia febrifuga, 

 and Swietenia chloroxylon; the first being a native of the 

 West India Islands, and the central parts of America, and 

 the second and third natives of the East Indies. They all 

 grow to be trees of considerable magnitude — the first and 

 second being among the largest trees known. They are 

 all excellent timber. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



Swiefenia Mahagoni is, perhaps, the most majestic of 

 trees; for though some rise to a greater height, this tree, 

 like the oak and the cedar, impresses the spectator witli 

 the strongest feelings of its firmness and duration. In the 

 rich valleys among the mountains of Cuba, and those that 

 open upon the bay of Honduras, the Mahogany expands 

 to so giant a trunk, divides into so many massy arms, and 

 throws the shade of its shining green leaves, spotted with 

 tufts of pearly flowers, over so vast an extent of surface, 

 that it is diiScult to imagine a vegetable production com- 

 bining in such a degree the qualities of elegance and 

 strength, of beauty and sublimity. The precise period of 

 its growth is not accurately known; but as, when large, it 

 changes but little during the life of a man, the time of its 

 arriving at maturity is probably not less than two hundred 

 years. Some idea of its size, and also of its commercial 

 value, may be formed from the fact that a single log, im- 

 ported at Liverpool, weighed nearly seven tons; was, in 

 the first instance, sold for £378; resold for £535; and 

 would, had the dealers been certain of its quality, have 

 been worth £1000. 



As is the case with much other timber, the finest Ma- 

 hogany trees, both for size and quality, are not in the 

 most accessible situations, and as it is always imported in 

 large masses, the transportation of it for any distance over 

 land is so difficult, that the very best trees, both on the 

 islands and on the main land — those that grow in the rich 

 inland vallies — defy the means of removal possessed by 

 the natives. Masses of from six to eight tons are not 

 very easily moved in any country; and in the mountain- 

 ous and rocky one, where much attention is not paid to 

 mechanical power, to move them is impossible. In Cuba, 

 the inhabitants have neither enterprise nor skill adequate 

 to felling the Mahogany trees, and transporting them to 

 tlie shore, and thus the finest timber remains unused. 



The discovery of this beautiful timber was accidental, 

 and its introduction into notice was slow. The first men- 

 tion of it is, that it was used in the repair of some of Sir 

 Walter Raleigh's ships at Trinidad in 1597. The first 

 that was brought to England was about the beginning of 

 last century; a few planks having been sent to Dr. Gib- 

 bons, of London, by a brother, who was a West India 

 captain. The Doctor was erecting a house in King-street, 

 Covent Garden, and gave the planks to the workmen, who 

 rejected it as being too hard. The Doctor's cabinet-ma- 

 ker, named WoUaston, was employed to make a candle- 

 box of it, and as he was sawing up the plank he also com- 

 plained of the hardness of the timber. But when the 

 candle-box was finished, it outshone in beauty all the 

 Doctor's other furniture, and became an object of curiosity 

 and exhibition. The wood was then taken into favour: 



Dr. Gibbons had a bureau made of it, and the Dutchess of 

 Buckingham another; and the despised Mahogany now 

 became a prominent article of luxury, and at the same 

 time raised the fortunes of the cabinet-maker by whom it 

 had been at first so little regarded. 



The Mahogany tree is found in great quantities on the 

 low and woody lands, and even upon the rocks in the 

 countries on the western shores of the Caribbean sea, 

 about Honduras and Campeachy. It is also abundant in 

 the Islands of Cuba and Hayti, and it used to be plentiful 

 in Jamaica, where it was of excellent quality; but most of 

 the larger trees have been cut down. It was formerly 

 abundant on the Bahamas, where it grew, on the rocks, to 

 a great height, and four feet in diameter. In the earliest 

 periods it was much used by the Spaniards in ship-build- 

 ing. When first introduced by them it was very dark and 

 hard, and without much of that beautiful variety of colour 

 which now renders it superior to all other timber for cabi- 

 net work; but it was more durable, and took a higher po- 

 lish with less labour. Of course it was wholly unknown 

 to the ancients. It was first introduced in the sixteenth 

 century, but it was not generally used in England till the 

 eighteenth. 



The Mahogany is a graceful tree, with many branches 

 that form a very handsome head. The leafets are in pairs, 

 mostly four, and sometimes three, but very rarely five; the 

 pair opposite, and without any odd leafet at the point; 

 they are smooth and shining, lance-shaped, entire at the 

 edges like those of the laurel, and bent back: each leafet is 

 about two inches and a half long, and the whole leaf is 

 about eight inches. The flowers are small and whitish, 

 and the seed-vessel has some resemblance to that of the 

 Barbadoes cedar: hence some botanists have given the 

 name of cedar to the tree. 



This tree so far corresponds with the pine tribe, that 

 the timber is best upon the coldest soils and in the most 

 exposed situations. When it grows upon moist soils and 

 warm lands, it is soft, coarse, spongy, and contains sap- 

 wood, into which some worms will eat. That which is 

 most accessible at Honduras is of this description; and 

 therefore it is only used for coarser works, or for a ground 

 on which to lay veneers of the choicer sorts. For the lat- 

 ter purpose it is well adapted, as it holds glue better than 

 deal, and, when properly seasoned, is not so sl^t to warp 

 or to be eaten by insects. When it grows in favourable 

 situations, where it has room to spread, it is of much bet- 

 ter quality, and puts out large branches, the junction of 

 which with the stem furnish those beautifully curled 

 pieces of which the choicest veneers are made. When 

 among rocks and much exposed, the size is inferior, and 

 there is not so much breadth or variety of shading; but 




132 



the timber is far superior, and the colour is more rich. 

 The last description is by far the strongest, and is there- 

 fore the best adapted for chairs, the legs of tables, and 

 other purposes in which a moderate size has to bear a con- 

 siderable strain. Since the produce of Jamaica has been 

 nearly exhausted, there are only two kinds known in the 

 market. Bay wood, or that which is got from the conti- 

 nent of America, and Spanish wood, or the produce of the 

 islands chiefly of Cuba and Hayti. Though the Bay wood 

 is inferior to the other both in value and in price, it is 

 often very beautiful, and may be obtained in logs as large 

 as six feet square. It is, however, not nearly so compact 

 as the other; the grain is apt to rise in polishing, and if it 

 be not covered by a water-proof varnish, it is very easily 

 stained. It also gives to the tool in carving, and is not 

 well adapted for ornaments. Spanish wood cuts well, 

 takes a fine polish, resists scratches, stains, and fractures 

 much better, and is generally the only sort upon which 

 much or delicate workmanship should be expended. The 

 colours of Mahogany do not come well out without the 

 application of oil or varnish; and if the best sorts be often 

 washed with water, or long macerated in it, they lose 

 their beauty, and become of a dingy brown. The red is 

 deepened by alkaline applications, especially lime-water; 

 but strong acids destroy the colour. When the surface is 

 covered by a colourless varnish, which displays the natu- 

 ral tints without altering any ,of them, good Mahogany 

 appears to the greatest advantage. 



The Febrifuga, or East India Mahogany, is a very 

 large tree. It grows in the mountainous parts of central 

 Hindostan, rises to a great height with a straight trunk, 

 which, towards the upper part, throws out many branches. 

 The head is spreading, and the leaves have some resem- 

 blance to those of the American species. The wood is of 

 a dull red colour, not so beautiful as common Mahogany, 

 but much harder, heavier, and more durable. The na- 

 tives of India account it the most lasting timber that their 

 country produces, and therefore they employ it in their 

 sacred edifices, and upon every occasion where they wish 

 to combine strength and durability. 



The Chloroxylon is chiefly found in the mountains of 

 the Sircars, that run parallel to the Bay of Bengal, to the 

 N. E. of the mouth of the River Godovery. The tree 

 does not attain the same size as either of the former, and 

 the appearance of the wood is different. It is of a deep 

 yellow, nearly of the same colour as box, from which it 

 does not difi"er much in durability, and it could be ap- 

 plied to the same purposes. 



\_Lib. Ent. Knowl. 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



THE TARANTULA. 



The Tarantula, of the fatal effects of whose poison, 

 and of the influence of music in the cure, so much has been 

 said, is of the spider tribe, possessing in most particulars, 

 all the characters peculjar to that species of insect. It is 

 a native of Italy, Cyprus, Barbary, and the East Indies; 

 in the two former countries, credulity on the one hand, 

 and imposition on the other, have given it a quality which 

 it does not merit, viz. the power of destroying human'life 

 by its bite, unless timely prevented by the most fascinat- 

 ing music. Accordingly, travellers in those countries 

 have furnished us with a number of amusing anecdotes, 

 strongly illustrative of the effects of superstition on the 

 human mind, when unenlightened by the beams of sci- 

 ence, or whei'e tradition has closed the door to reason and 

 the most obvious conviction. These anecdotes, which 

 must be familiar to every reading person, wc do not deem 

 necessary here to detail; but shall merely observe, that 

 the bite of the Tarantula is never inflicted but when acci- 

 dentally irritated; and though it always produces most 

 severe pain, swelling, and discolouration of the part, and 

 in constitutions of particular irritability, fainting fits, spas- 

 modic affections, and even convulsions; yet it has in no 

 instance, within our experience, (founded upon a four 

 years' residence in the south part of Europe and in Bar- 

 bary,) proved fatal; nor could we learn from others, that 

 such an effect was ever produced; the sjMnptoms being 

 readily removed by the remedies which are efficacious in 

 the bites or stings of other venomous insects. 



This animal, which like other spiders, is made up of 

 two divisions united by a slender thread, the one consist- 

 ing of the head and breast, the other of the belly, rather 

 exceeds an inch in length, and is of an ash colour on its 

 breast, belly, and legs, and underneath is distinguished by 

 blackish rings. It has eight legs united like that of a 

 lobster; and eight eyes, two of which are red, are larger 

 than the others, and are placed in front; four others are 

 placed transversely towards the mouth; the other two are 

 nearer the back. This number of eyes seems necessary in 

 an animal whose existence depends upon its activity and 

 vigilance; and particularly as the eyes are immoveable in 

 the socket, and therefore cannot, when required, turn in 

 different directions. 



Its poisonous mechanism consists of two nippers or 

 fangs on the fore part of the head with strong points, toothed 

 like a saw, and terminating in claws like those of a cat. 

 A little below the point of the claw, there is a small hole 

 through which the animal emits the poison; and from this 

 apparatus, its means of attack and defence are derived. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



It is stated to prefer the bare fields for its liaunts, where 

 the lands are fallow; but we have seen it near houses, and 

 within the yards, and sometimes even in the adjoining 

 apartments. 



According to Bingley, it lays between seven and eight 

 hundred eggs, which are hatched in the spring; the pa- 

 rents being very short-lived, and seldom surviving the 

 winter. Like other spiders, it makes a net or wall round 

 its dwelling, which is generally about four inches deep in 

 the ground, and half an inch wide. 



[Le>»p)'iere's Nat. Hist. 



BLUE-EYED YELLOW WARBLER. 



S YL VIA C I TR INE LLA. 



[Plate XII. Vol. 2. Size of life.] 



Yellow-poll Warbler, Lath. Syn. v. u.p. 515, No. 148. — 

 Arct. Zool. p. 402, No. 292. — Le Figuier tachete. 

 Burr. Ois. v. p. 285. — Motacilla xstiva, Turton's 

 Syst. p. 615. — Parus luteus, Summer Yellow-bird, 

 Bartrabi, p. 292. — Motacilla asstiva, Gmel. Syst. i. 

 p. 996. — Sylvia lestiva, Lath. Ind. Orn. ii. p. 551. — 

 ViEiLL. Ois. deVAm. Sept.pl. 95. — Motacilla albicol- 

 lis, Gmel. Syst. i. p. 983, young. — Sylvia albicollis. 

 Lath. Ind. Orn. ii. p. 535, young. — Ficedula Cana- 

 densis, Briss. hi.;;. 492, 51, /. 26, Jig. 3, male adult. — 

 Ficedula dominicensis, Briss. hi. p. 494, 52, t. 26, f. 

 5.— Figuier de Canada, Buff. PI. Enl. 58, f. 2, adult 

 male. — J. Doughty's Collection. 



This is a very common summer species, and appears 

 almost always actively employed among the leaves and blos- 

 soms of the willows, snow-ball shrub, and poplars, search- 

 ing after small green caterpillars, which are its principal 

 food. It has a few shrill notes, uttered with emphasis, but 

 not deserving the name of song. It arrives in Pennsylva- 

 nia about the beginning of May, and departs again for the 

 south about the middle of September. According to 

 Latham, it is numerous in Guiana, and is also found in 

 Canada. It is a very sprightly, unsuspicious, and familiar 

 little bird; is often seen in and about gardens, among the 

 blossoms of fruit trees and shrubberies; and, on account of 

 its colour, is very noticeable. Its nest is built with great 

 neatness, generally in the triangular fork of a small shrub, 

 near, or among briar bushes. Outwardly it is composed 

 of flax or tow, in thick circular layers, strongly twisted 



L L 



round the twigs that rise through its sides, and lined within 

 with hair, and the soft downy substances fi-om the stalks 

 of fern. The eggs are four or five, of a dull white, thickly 

 sprinkled near the great end, with specks of pale brown. 

 They raise two broods in the season. This little bird, 

 like many others, will feign lameness to draw you away 

 from its nest, stretching out his neck, spreading and bend- 

 ing down his tail until it trails along the branch, and flut- 

 tering feebly along to draw you after him; sometimes look- 

 ing back to see if you are following him, and returning 

 back to repeat the same manoeuvres, in order to attract 

 your attention. The male is most remarkable for this 

 practice. 



The Blue-eyed WarWer is five inches long and seven 

 broad; hind head and back greenish yellow; crown, front, 

 and whole lower parts, rich golden yellow; breast and sides 

 streaked laterally with dark red; wings and tail deep 

 brown, except the edges of the former, and the inner 

 vanes of the latter, which are yellow; the tail is also 

 slightly forked; legs a pale clay colour; bill and eye-lids, 

 light blue. The female is of a less brilliant yellow, and 

 the streaks of red on the breast are fewer and more obscure. 

 Buflbn is mistaken in supposing No. 1, of PL Enl. Plate 

 Iviii. to be the female of this species. — Wilson. 



SCARLET TANAGER. 

 TANAGRA RUBRA. 



[Plate XIL Vol. 2. Size of life.] 



Tanagra rubra, Linn. Syst. i. p 314, 3. — Cardinal de 

 Canada, Briss. Orn. m. p. 48, PI. 2, Jig. 5. — Lath. 

 II. p. 217, No. 3.— Scarlet Sparrow, Edw. PL 343.— 

 Canada Tanager, and Olive Tanager, Arct. Zool. p. 

 369, A'b. 237-238.— J. Doughty's Collection. 



This is one of the gaudy foreigners, (and perhaps the 

 most showy,) that regularly visit us from the torrid regions 

 of the south. He is drest in the richest scarlet, set off 

 with the most jetty black, and comes, over extensive 

 countries, to sojourn for a time among us. While we 

 consider him entitled to the rights of hospitality, we may 

 be permitted to examine a little into his character, and 

 endeavour to discover, whether he has any thing else to 

 recommend him besides that of having a fine coat, and 

 being a great traveller. 



On or about the first of JNIay this bird makes his appear- 




134 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ance in Pennsylvania. He spreads over the United States, 

 and is found even in Canada. He rarely approaches the 

 habitations of man, unless perhaps to the orchard, where he 

 sometimes builds; or to the cherry trees in search of fruit. 

 The depth of the woods is his favourite abode. There, 

 among the thick foliage of the tallest trees, his simple and 

 almost monotonous notes chip, churr, repeated at short 

 intervals, in a pensive tone, may be occasionally heard; 

 which appear to proceed from a considerable distance 

 though the bird be immediately above you; a faculty be- 

 stowed on him by the beneficent Author of Nature, no 

 doubt for his protection, to compensate in a degree for the 

 danger to which his glowing colour would often expose 

 him. Besides thisusual note, he has, at times, a more musical 

 chant, something resembling in mellowness that of the Bal- 

 timore Oriole. His food consists of large, winged insects, 

 such as wasps, hornets, and humble-bees, and also of fruit, 

 particularly those of that species of Vaccinium usually 

 called huckle-berries, which in their season form almost 

 his whole fare. His nest is built about the middle of May, 

 on the horizontal branch of a tree, sometimes an apple 

 tree, and is but slightly put together; stalks of broken 

 flax, and dry grass, so thinly wove together, that the light 

 is easily perceivable through it, form the repository of 

 his young. The eggs are three, of a dull blue, spotted 

 with brown or purple. They rarely raise more than one 

 brood in a season, and leave us for the south about the 

 last week in August. 



Among all the birds that inhabit our woods, there is 

 none that strike the eye of a stranger, or even a native, 

 with so much brilliancy as this. Seen among the green 

 leaves, with the light falling stronglj^ on his plumage, 

 lie really appears beautiful. If he has little of melody 

 in his notes to charm us, he has nothing in them to dis- 

 gust. His manners are modest, easy, and inoffensive. 

 He commits no depredations on the property of the hus- 

 bandman; but rather benefits him b)^ the daily destruction 

 in spring of many noxious insects; and when winter ap- 

 proaches he is no plundering dependant, but seeks in a 

 distant country for that sustenance which the severity of 

 the season denies to his industrj^ in this. He is a striking 

 ornament to our rural scenery, and none of the meanest of 

 our rural songsters. Such being the true traits of his cha- 

 racter, we shall always with pleasure welcome this beau- 

 tiful, inoffensive stranger, to our orchards, groves, and 

 forests. ■ 



The male of this species, when arrived at his full size 

 and colours, is six inches and a half in length, and ten and 

 a half broad. The whole plumage is of a most brilliant 

 scarlet, except the wings and tail, which are of a deep 

 black; the latter handsomely forked, sometimes minutely 



tipt with white, and the interior edges of the wing fea- 

 thers nearly white; the bill is strong, considerably inflated 

 like those of his tribe, the edge of the upper mandible 

 somewhat irregular, as if toothed, and the whole of a dirty 

 gamboge or j-ellowish horn colour; this, however, like that 

 of most other birds, varies according to the season. About 

 the first of August he begins to moult; the young feathers 

 coming out of a greenish yellow colour, until he appears 

 nearly all dappled with spots of scarlet and greenish yel- 

 low. In this state of plumage he leaves us. How long it 

 is before he recovers his scarlet dress, or whether he con- 

 tinues of this greenish colour all winter, I am unable to 

 say. The iris of the eye is of a cream colour, the legs and 

 feet light blue. The female is green above and yellow 

 below; the wings and tail brownish black, edged with 

 green. 



The )'oung birds, during their residence here the first 

 season, continue nearly of the same colour with the female. 

 In this circumstance, we again recognise the wise provi- 

 sion of the Deity, in thus clothing the female and the in- 

 experienced j'oung, in a garb so favourable to concealment 

 among the foliage; as the weakness of the one, and the 

 frequent visits of the other to her nest, would greatlj^ en- 

 danger the safety of all. That the young males do not 

 receive their red plumage until the early part of the suc- 

 ceeding spring, I think highly probable, from the circum- 

 stance of frequently finding their red feathers, at that sea- 

 son, intermixed with green ones, and the wings also 

 broadly edged with green. These facts render it also 

 probable that the old males regularly change their colour, 

 and have a summer and winter dress; but this, farther ob- 

 servations must determine. 



There is in the Brazils a bird of the same genus with 

 this, and very much resembling it, so much so as to have 

 been frequently confounded with it by European writers. 

 It is the Tanagra Brazilia of Turton; and though so like, 

 is a yet very distinct species from tlie present, as I have 

 myself had the opportunity of ascertaining, by examining 

 two very perfect specimens from Brazil, now in the pos- 

 session of Mr. Peale, and comparing them with this. The 

 principal differences are these: the plumage of the Brazi- 

 lian is almost black at bottom, a very deep scarlet at the 

 surface, and of an orange tint between ; ours is ash coloured 

 at bottom, white in the middle, and bright scarlet at top. 

 The tail of ours is forked, that of the other cuneiform, or 

 rounded. The bill of our species is more inflated, and of 

 a greenish yellow colour — the others is black above, and 

 whitish below towards the base. The whole plumage of 

 the southern species is of a coarser, stiffer quality, particu- 

 larly on the head. The wings and tail, in both, are black. 



In the account which Buffon gives of the Scarlet Tana- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



135 



ger, and Cardinal Grosbeak, there appears to be very 

 great confusion, and many mistakes; to explain which it 

 is necessary to observe, that Mr. Edwards, in his figure of 

 the Scarlet Tanager, or Scarlet Sparrow, os he calls it, 

 has given it a hanging crest, owing no doubtto the loose, dis- 

 ordered state of plumage of the stuifed or dried skin from 

 which he made his drawing. Buffon has afterwards con- 

 founded the two together by applying many stories origi- 

 nally related of tlie Cardinal Grosbeak, to the Scarlet 

 Tanager; and the following he gravely gives as his reason 

 for so doing. " We may presume," says he, " that when 

 travellers talk of the warble of the Cardinal they mean the 

 Scarlet Cardinal, for the other Cardinal is of the genus of 

 the Grosbeaks, consequently a silent bird." This silent 

 bird, however, has been declared by an eminent English 

 naturalist, to be almost equal to their own nightingale! 

 The count also quotes the following passage from Charle- 

 voix to prove the same point, which, if his translator has 

 done him justice, evidently proves the reverse. "It is 

 scarcely more than a hundred leagues," says this traveller, 

 "south of Canada, that the Cardinal begins to be seen. 

 Their song is sweet, their plumage beautiful, and their 

 head wears a crest." But the Scarlet Tanager is found 

 even in Canada, as well as an hundred leagues to the 

 south, while the Cardinal Grosbeak is not found in any 

 great numbers north of Mar3'land. The latter, therefore, 

 it is highly probable, was the bird meant by Charlevoix, 

 and not the Scarlet Tanager. Buffon also quotes an ex- 

 tract of a letter from Cuba, which, if the circumstance it 

 relates be true, is a singular proof of the estimation in 

 which the Spaniards hold the Cardinal Grosbeak. " On 

 Wednesday arrived at the port of Havana, a bark from 

 Florida, loaded with Cardinal birds, skins, and fruit. The 

 Spaniards bought the Cardinal birds at so high a price as 

 ten dollars apiece; and notwithstanding the public distress, 

 spent on them the sum of 18,000 dollars!" 



With a few facts more, I shall conclude the history of 

 the Scarlet Tanager. When you approach the nest, the 

 male keeps cautiously at a distance, as if fearful of being 

 seen; while the female hovers around in the greatest agi- 

 tation and distress. When the young leave the nest, the 

 male parent takes a most active part in feeding and attend- 

 ing them, and is then altogether indifferent of concealment. 



Passing through an orchard one morning, I caught one 

 of these young birds that had but lately left the nest. I 

 carried it with me about half a mile, to show it to my 

 friend, Mr. William Bartram; and having procured a cage, 

 hung it up on one of the large pine trees in the Bo- 

 tanic garden, within a few feet of the nest of an Orchard 

 0)'io/e, which also contained young; hoping that the charity 

 or tenderness of the Orioles, would induce them to supply 



the cravings of the stranger. But charity with them, as 

 with too many of the human race, began and ended at 

 home. The poor orphan was altogether neglected, not- 

 withstanding its plaintive cries; and, as it refused to be 

 fed by me, I was about to return it back to the place where 

 I found it; when, towards the afternoon, a Scarlet Tanager, 

 no doubt its own parent, was seen fluttering round the cage, 

 endeavouring to get in. Finding this impracticable he 

 flew off, and soon returned with food in his bill; and con- 

 tinued to feed it till after sunset, taking up his lodgings 

 on the higher branches of the same tree. In the morning, 

 almost as soon as day broke, he was again seen most ac- 

 tively engaged in the same affectionate manner; and, not- 

 withstanding the insolence of the Orioles, continued his 

 benevolent offices the whole day, roosting at night as be- 

 fore. On the third or fourth day, he appeared extremely 

 solicitous for the liberation of his charge, using every ex- 

 pression of distressful anxiety, and every call and invita- 

 tion that nature had put in his power for him to come out. 

 This was too much for the feelings of my venerable friend; 

 he procured a ladder, and mounting to the spot where the 

 bird was suspended, opened the cage, took out the prisoner, 

 and restored him to liberty and to his parent, who with 

 notes of great exultation accompanied his flight to the 

 woods. The happiness of my good friend was scarcely 

 less complete, and showed itself in his benevolent counte- 

 nance; and I could not refrain saying to myself — If such 

 sweet sensations can be derived from a simple circum- 

 stance of this kind, how exquisite, how unspeakably rap- 

 turous must the delight of those individuals have been, 

 who have rescued their fellow beings from death, chains, 

 and imprisonment, and restored them to the arms of their 

 friends and relations! Surely in such godlike actions 

 virtue is its own most abundant reward. — lb. 



A METHOD OF FORCING FRUIT TREES TO 

 BEAR. 



With a sharp knife make a cut in the bark of the 

 branch, which you mean to force to bear, and not far from 

 the place where it is connected with the stem ; or if it be 

 a small branch, or shoot, near to where it is joined to the 

 larger bough: the cut is to go round the branch, or to en- 

 circle it, and to penetrate to the wood. A quarter of an 

 inch from this cut, you make a second cut, like the first, 

 round the branch, so that by both encircling the branch, 

 you have marked a ring upon the branch, a quarter of an 

 inch broad between the two culis. The bark between 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



these two cuts you take clean away with the knife, down 

 to the wood, removing even the fine inner bark, which 

 immediately lies upon tlie wood; so that no connection 

 whatever remains between the two parts of the bark, 

 but the bare and naked wood appears white and smooth. 

 But this bark-ring, which is to compel the tree to bear, 

 must be made at the right time, that is, when in all nature 

 the buds are strongly swelling or are breaking out into 

 blossom. In the same year a callus is formed at the edges 

 ef the ring, on both sides, and the connection of the bark, 

 that had been interrupted, is restored again without any 

 detriment to the tree, or the branch operated upon, in 

 which the artificial wound soon again grows over. 



By this simple though artificial means of forcing every 

 fruit tree, with certainty, to bear, you obtain the follow- 

 ing important advantages: 



1. You may compel every young tree of which you do 

 not know the sort, to show its fruit, and decide sooner, 

 whether, being of a good quality, it may remain in its first 

 state, or requires to be grafted. 



2. You may, thereby, with certainty, get fruit of every 

 good sort, of which you wish to see the produce, in the 

 next year. 



3. This method may probably serve to increase consi- 

 derably the quantity of fruit in the country. 



The branches so operated upon are hung full of fruit, 

 while the others, that are not ringed, often have nothing, 

 or very little on them. This eflect is easy to be ex- 

 plained from the theory of the motion of the sap. For 

 when the sap moves slowly in a tree, it produces fruit- 

 buds, which is the case in old trees; when it moves vigor- 

 ously, the tree forms wood, or runs into shoots, as hap- 

 pens with young trees. — Trans. Hort. Soc. Lon. 



PIGEON-SHOOTING NEAR BOSTON. 



Mr. Editor: 



About fifteen miles from the metropolis of New-Eng- 

 land, stands a quiet little village, whicli is more known — 

 I will not say celebrated — by its local traditions as the last 

 resting-place of one of the Indian tribes, than from any 

 bustling importance or remarkable scenery. 



It contains, however, all the necessary attributes of a 

 country town, viz: decayed old trees — gadding old wo- 

 men — a little white gothic church — and a little dirty vil- 

 lage inn — with its usual incumbrances of the idle hangers- 

 on — inveterate dram-drinkers, and furious politicians, who 

 are continually promulgating the most heterogeneous of 



doctrines and theories, much wilder than ever addled the 

 crazy noddles of Hobbes and Mandeville. 



In this place — or at least half a mile this side of it — I 

 have been passing a few weeks, following the general 

 fashion of flying from the Cholera. My mornings I gene- 

 rally give to reading and study. But in these long sum- 

 mer afternoons, I have a most itching propensity for wan- 

 dering. 



From reading old Isaac Walton, I instantly, like many 

 other unlucky wights, was seized with a terrible fishing 

 mania. There was no brook or river ten miles round that 

 I did not ransack with unparalleled ill luck. I hooked 

 every thing but a fish — friend or foe, it made little differ- 

 ence — they all sufiered alike from my infuriate zeal. I 

 was continually losing my bait, or breaking my patent 

 rod, in my endeavours to land a stick or bush, which my 

 unlucky eye-sight deemed a perch or salmon trout. 



Fishing I soon gave up as a bad job, and easily con- 

 vinced myself I was not designed for an angler, but a 

 shooter. 



This no sooner popped into my brain than I purchased 

 a first rate Joe Manton, with plenty of Dupont's superfine 

 powder, — and shot enough to sink a seventy-four. 



But here, again, I was soon let into a most important 

 secret. It is this — a near-sighted man is never intended for 

 either a sportsman or angler, — for after watching and toil- 

 ing, and creeping about all day — staring over stone walls 

 into cow-yards after peeps, and throwing stones into corn- 

 fields to start woodcocks, I gave this up also. 



By the by, I recommend throwing stones into corn- 

 fields to all Sportsmen, who, if they lay their gun down, 

 can find it again time enough to shoot, — a thing I never 

 could do; or, if like me, they are troubled with a dog, 

 who, because he was " fetched up" in a " genteel family," 

 has an inveterate habit of keeping in the background. I 

 presume he was early inculcated with the principle of 

 giving way to his betters; neither blows, nor caresses, 

 nor intreaties, could induce him to precede me; he' always 

 coolly, but firmly, insisted upon my going first. There 

 was, of course, no moving a dog's obstinacy, when founded 

 upon early inculcated principles — so I threw aside my Joe 

 Manton, resolving to give up sliooting till nature should 

 give me eyes. 



But, thus far, I have wandered with a vengeance. I 

 commenced with the intention of giving you a history of 

 Pigeon-shooting, — instead of it, I have been giving you 

 my own abortive attempt at all kinds of shooting. I beg 

 you to recollect the old adage, "Better late than never," 

 and pardon me. 



The course of my walks was frequently crossed by a 

 veteran of a fellow, whose clothes were so variously and 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



137 



extensively patched, that It would have puzzled the ma- 

 ker to tell the original colour. 



His face, though it bore the marks of the storms of many 

 years, and was deeply furrowed, yet was good-humoured 

 and honest. He had but one eye, — but there was a wag- 

 gery about it, that insensibly caused a smile. His hair had 

 originall)- been brown, but time had both grizzled and 

 thinned it, — and as a few straggling locks peeped out from 

 under his outlandish head gear, he looked, for all the 

 world, like some rugged philosopher, who felt convinced 

 of the truth of his own theories, and never troubled him- 

 self about other people's. 



He was accompanied by a ragged urchin, who carried a 

 basket, containing four or five wild pigeons, which he 

 called flyers. 



The old man had with him three or four birch trees, 

 about ten feet long, which had just been cut. I soon fell 

 into conversation with him, and learned he was what is 

 called a Pigeon-shooter, and had subsisted entirely by, this 

 employment for nearly forty-Jive years. 



As the Pigeon season was now coming on, he was pre- 

 paring his apparatus, which was as follows: — He selected, 

 in the first place, a very high spot of ground, perfectly 

 clear from wood or under-brush; upon this he built a hut 

 of branches, large enough to contain one or two persons, 

 with a very small entrance, through which you were 

 obliged to creep upon your hands and knees. Opposite the 

 hut, and at the distance of about four feet, was a pole, six 

 inches in diameter, and about twenty feet long, inclined a 

 little upwards. A little to the rear of the hut, and on each 

 side, were erected four or five poles, twelve feet high — 

 the summits of these were crowned by the flutterers, 

 (wild Pigeons,) caught in a trap, with their eyes sewed up, 

 and which were prevented from escaping, by a string of 

 about five feet long. The tops of the poles also commu- 

 nicated with the hut by means of strings. Here the old 

 man would take his stand, with his pipe and grandson, and 

 provisions for the day, before sun-rise — keeping a sharp 

 look-out all round the horizon for the pigeons, which, 

 about the latter end of August, make their appearance in 

 great numbers. The moment his lynx eye had detected 

 a flock, and long before my inexperienced vision had seen a 

 speck in the cloudless sky, he instantly pulled the strings — 

 up went the flutterers— cock went his gun — (an old king's 

 arm, ) loaded to the muzzle with powder and shot, — and the 

 old fellow fell to prating, i. e. imitating the cry of a wild 

 Pigeon, which experience had taught him to do to perfec- 

 tion: in a few moments, the whole flock, which, perhaps, 

 being headed the other way, would instantly wheel round, 

 attracted by the old man's prating, and the fluttering of 

 the decoys — and, in a vast swoop, would settle upon the 

 M M 



whole length of the pole, two or three deep. He would 

 then fire the moment they alighted, and sweep the whole 

 off". 



His little boy would rush out, and bag the whole, some- 

 times amounting to twelve dozen, and lug them home 

 — the old fellow, then, without moving from his lair, 

 would load again, and prepare for another flock, which 

 sometimes would not appear for hours, and perhaps not 

 again the whole day. 



His perseverance was indomitable, — for he would sit 

 from sun-rise to sun-set, through the hottest days, without 

 stirring from his seat, — and pufiing out large columns of 

 smoke from his broken pipe; his quick and restless eye 

 piercing around in every direction. The least speck in the 

 horizon — down would go the pipe — up go the flutterers — 

 prate, prate, would echo through the forest, — again sound 

 the gun — again the fluttering of the dying and wounded — 

 and again all silent. At sun-set, he would go home, pick 

 his Pigeons, which would sell for fifty cents a dozen, and 

 the feathers for twelve and a half cents per pound. The 

 Pigeon season lasted about six weeks, during which he 

 averaged four dollars a day, which, together with the fea- 

 thers, and the ducks which he would occasionally shoot on 

 the lake, during Ihe fall and winter, and the muskrats 

 which his boy caught in traps, and whose skins sold pretty 

 well, he told me he contrived to support himself through 

 the year. He fought, he said, at the battle of Bunker- 

 Hill, and was wounded there. " But," said he, with a 

 sigh, " they forget what little good I have done — it is 

 always the way with the world. I have no family to 

 provide for, thank God, save my grandson, and he, when 

 I die, shall have my blessing, my bible, and my gun — as 

 long as there are Pigeons in the world, we shan't starve. " 

 One of your Subscribers. 

 Boston, ^ii^iist 23d, 1832. 



INTERESTING STORY OF A LOST CHILD. 



On Thursday last, Jenison Alkire took with him his 

 sister Elizabeth, and proceeded about three miles from 

 home, for the purpose of watching a deer lick. They staid 

 all night at the lick, and Jenison killed a deer. In the 

 morning, finding his horse had left him, he prevailed on 

 Elizabeth to stay at the camp with the deer, until he should 

 o-o home and return with the horse. Jenison went home, 

 returned with a horse, but found that his sister had left the 

 camp. He called her in vain; he endeavoured to find her 

 trace through the weeds, but without success. He then has- 




138 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



tened home, and gave the alarm; the nearest neighbours 

 were immediately convened, and proceeded in search of the 

 child. Wm. Loudon, David Alkire, and Joseph Bennett, 

 (all good woodsmen,) ascertained which way she had 

 started, pursued the trail through laurel thickets, over 

 mountains that were almost impassable. She had pursued 

 a pretty straight course until she got within a short dis- 

 tance of the settlement on Holly, a branch of Big Elk 

 river; from thence she fell back on a branch of the Little 

 Kanawha, descended to its mouth, continued down the 

 Kanawha river eight or ten miles, through thickets that 

 bears can scarcely penetrate, crossed the river upwards of 

 sixty times, got within a very short distance of Thomas 

 M. Haymond's, when night overtook her. With a toma- 

 hawk, which she carried with her, she peeled the bark 

 from a birch tree, scraped off the inside of the bark, and 

 ate it. She then broke off the branches from some bushes, 

 laid them in the bark for a bed; collected some more, of 

 which she made a covering; peeled the bark off a hickory 

 withe, tied one end round the neck of a dog which ac- 

 companied her, and the other end round her wrist, and in 

 this manner laid down in her couch of bark, and slept all 

 night. Those in pursuit followed her trail all day (Friday) 

 until dark, then lighted pine torches, and continued in 

 pursuit until daylight Saturday morning, at which time 

 they first disturbed the slumbers of the lost child. When 

 they found her, she seemed to be perfectly composed, and 

 showed no signs of alarm. 



The girl is eight or nine years old, and must have tra- 

 velled twenty miles through a wilderness, rough and 

 dreary enough to dishearten and alarm the most robust 

 and resolute. 



She satisfactorily explained the cause of having left the 

 deer, by stating, that while Jenison was absent, a panther 

 came and laid hold of it. Notwithstanding the hideous 

 appearance of this unexpected visitant, she had the cou- 

 rage and presence of mind to advance and untie the dog 

 before she took to flight. — Western Enquirer. 



NATURAL HISTORY OF THE BASSE. 



The Basse belongs to the third order of fishes, Thora- 

 cici; genus Perca. The generic character is, teeth 

 sharp, incurvate, numerous; gill covers, tryphyllous, 

 scaly, serrated; first dorsal fin, spiny; scales hard and 

 rough. 



Perca Fluviabilis Flavus, the " Yellow River Basse," 

 or, the Yellow Basse of the River, is distinguished by 



having about nine spiny rays to the first dorsal fin, and 

 fifteen soft ones to the second; these fins joined so closely 

 as to appear like one: colour of the dorsal and pectoral 

 fins, bright olive, with a blueish cast; ventral, a dirty 

 white; anal and candal, light olive, tipt with red; tail, 

 forked; body broad and tapering, rather thick, but of fair 

 proportions, the large fish become thick and " hog-backed." 

 Head, tolerably large, flattened towards the nose — the un- 

 der lip longest, and protruded; mouth large; teeth small, 

 sharp, and numerous; eye large, iris of a greenish yellow; 

 gill, membranous, three rayed, and spiny. Colour, dark 

 olive on the back; sides, a greenish yellow; at some sea- 

 sons of a bright yelloiv; belly, white, shaded with black 

 towards the ventral fin. The body is marked by broad, 

 dark, transverse shades, or bars, which are very apparent 

 shortly after being taken from the water. Scales, rather 

 small, of an oval shape towards the outward part. Weight, 

 generally, from twelve ounces to six pounds; some have 

 been reported to weigh sixteen pounds; but this is consi- 

 dered fabulous. 



The shape of the common sized Basse, is of the most 

 beautiful proportions; of a fine oblong form, neither too 

 thick nor too flat, which gives to it the appearance of 

 great strength and activity. Their astonishing bounds from 

 the water when hooked, is well known to all anglers; and 

 their desperate struggles to escape, requires the utmost 

 skill of the disciple of " honest Isaac" to secure his finny 

 prey. It cannot be said of the Basse, however, that it is 

 as active as some of its genus in Asia, where a species of 

 perch are said to climb trees, and repose in the water col- 

 lected in the hollow of the palm leaf, where it joins the 

 trunk of the tree; but it is a fact to be attested by many 

 an " honest angler," that Basse will spring four or five 

 feet out of water when hooked — and jump over seines 

 like a flock of sheep over a fence, to the mortification of 

 the disappointed fisherman. 



This fine fish is found in abundance in all the rivers and 

 lakes west of the Allegheny mountains, and in some of the 

 eastern waters, though there not so abundant. It is es- 

 teemed a delicious fish for the table — by some even pre- 

 ferred to the River Salmon and Pike. As a pan fish, it 

 is superior to either. In the clear waters that run into the 

 northern lakes, the Basse is found in immense numbers. 

 In the Sciota, the Miamies, and the tributaries of the Ohio, 

 it also abounds, but not so plentiful. The shape and colour 

 of the Basse varies somewhat with its location. In the 

 northern streams, where they are generally called the 

 " Black Basse," the body is rounder, and the colour 

 darker than in the Ohio. The colour also varies with 

 the season, being brighter in autumn than in the spring. 

 The shape of the smaller sized fish is also of a more oblong 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



or tapering form, than the older or larger fish, which ap- 

 pear to acquire breadth with age, and assume a "hog- 

 backed" appearance, when they get to be over four pounds 

 in weight. 



The Basse spawns in this latitude about the latter end of 

 May. The female makes her bed in the sand, under a 

 bluff bank, or, in preferenoe, under a steep, rockj^ shore, 

 where the fall of the water cannot leave it exposed. She 

 is attended by the male, and both watch with great care 

 and vigilance until the young fry are able to shift for them- 

 selves. 



No other fish are suffered to approach them at this sea- 

 son, that they can master; and sometimes, but very sel- 

 dom, they will take the bait, while watching their spawn, 

 but not unless it is placed very near to them. 



The food of the Basse is principally minnows; but they 

 feed on worms, crawfish, and many kinds of water insects. 

 The angler generally uses the live minnow bait, at which 

 this fish bites eagerly, and affords such sport in landing, as 

 to be called an " exceedingly game fish." In the morn- 

 ing and evening, they come out into the shallow water 

 around bars, and along the shore, in search of food; but 

 during the day, they retire to the deep parts of the rivers, 

 and generally take shelter under roots, logs, or rocks, or 

 in the holes at the foot of mill-dams. Here they are 

 sought for by the angler with great success. 



This fish is of a social disposition, and generally found 

 in small parties of six to twelve, sometimes fifty to one 

 hundred, or more; and in the lakes and northern streams, 

 in immense numbers. 



In autumn they may be seen in shallow water, swim- 

 ming along in small parties, stopping occasionally as if to 

 listen, or reconnoitre; and then darting off suddenly with 

 great rapidity. They are shy fish, and at the least noise 

 take alarm; but so exceedingly voracious that they imme- 

 diately return to their prey, darting after it a considerable 

 distance, and frequently jumping out of the water in pur- 

 suit; this trait in their character is very favourable to the 

 angler. 



The Basse is of rather slow growth, and by some thought 

 to attain a great age. 



In the Ohio and its tributaries, there is a fish called the 

 "Rock Basse;" broad and flat, somewhat resembling the 

 White Perch in shape, but of a brilliant yellow, shaded 

 with green. 



There is also the Bank-Lick Basse, peculiar to a small 

 stream opposite Cincinnati, that I have never noticed else- 

 where. A small fish, weighing from one quarter to one 

 and a half pounds, of a pale greenish olive — shaped like 

 the White Perch — mouth remarkably thin and tender. 



These, with other fishes that inhabit the western waters, 

 I may have occasion to notice hereafter. 



PiSCATOK. 



Cincinnati, Jiugust, 1832. 



THE PERILOUS SHOT. 



BV C. W. THOMSON. 



The following ballad is founded on an incident which 

 is said to have occurred, some years ago, at the Cape of 

 Good Hope. 



The hunter went forth at break of day, 



And he left his babes behind ; 

 He turned to look where his cottage lay 



On the hill's green breast defined ; 

 And thoughts, like the mist of the morning gray, 



Came thronging across his mind. 



The past and the future were mingled there. 



With a crowd of hopes and fears, 

 And he breathed a soft but fervent prayer, 



While his eyes were filled with tears, 

 That God would their innocent beauty spare 



Through the lapse of coming years. 



But most of all that his guardian arm 



Would bless them through the day — 

 And keep them from the grasp of harm, 



While he was far away — 

 Nor let one feeling of alarm 



Upon their bosoms prey. 



The hunter let his bright glance run 

 O'er the land where his cottage stood, — 



The hunter turned to the glorious sun, 

 And he felt that God was good ; 



Then over his shoulder he threw his gun, 

 And he hied away to the wood. 



'Twere vain to tell how the roe-buck fell 



Before the hunter's aim — 

 'Twere vain to recount from meadow to mount, 



How he tracked the wild and tame ; 

 But the sun when low, saw a gallant show 



Of the forest's choicest game. 



'Twas a long day's hunt, and the hills were gray 



When he reached his lowly cot : 

 It stood 'mid nature's wild array. 



Though luxury owned it not. 

 But peace, like a mantle around it lay, 



And he blessed his humble lot. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



The sun had gone down, and the earth was still, 

 And the lake was as clear as the sky. 



And a single star above the hill. 

 Looked down with its beaming eye ; 



And no sound was heard but the voice of the rill 

 That went in laughter by. 



The hunter blessed his humble lot, 



As he stood by his cottage-door. 

 And glad was he to reach the spot. 



And rest in his home once more ; 4 



For his cares and his toils were all forgot 



'Mid the mirth of his children's roar. 



He entered his hut ; but each mouth was shut, 



Whence mirth was wont to flow ; 

 For a sight was there that made him stare 



With a terror that few can know ; 

 A lion of India's fiercest breed 



On his threshold was crouching low : 



His wife was sitting in silent dread. 



With a sad, desponding air ; 

 While hid in her lap, each little head 



Sought hope and safety there — 

 The eldest boy, with fear half dead 



Stood close by his mother's chair. 



'Twas not a time for long delay ; 



The hunter stole aside 

 To the back of his hut, where the lingering day 



Crept in thro' a casement wide — 

 And he charged his gun for a deadly play, 



And asked heaven his aim to guide. 



The beast arose ! — his heart's blood froze. 



But despair did his purpose meet ; 

 He sent the ball thro' liis cottage hall, 



On its errand stern and fleet — 

 It grazed the hair of his youthful heir, 



As he stood by his mother's seat — 

 Then came a moan 'twixt a howl and a groan. 



And the lion lay dead at her feet. 



INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN. 



No. IV. 



The most interesting and important part of your ex- 

 cursion is now open to you. Having sprung the first 

 covey of Partridges, and perliaps marked them to a favour- 

 able cover, and well scattered, — now is the time for you 

 to deliberate, — and if ever you are to receive benefit by a 

 favourable opportunity, this is the time also to embrace it. 



There is nothing to hurry you, — and you may exercise as 

 much coolness as you choose, and suppress every rising 

 emotion which tends to disconcert the mind. At this pe- 

 riod, to most learners, the nerves are much affected, and 

 the agitation, at the sudden flight and whirring sound of 

 the flying game, is considerable, — eagerness, anxiety, and 

 timidity, all take their part; and between these, and the 

 judgment and philosophy of the young Sportsman, a con- 

 flict rages, which can only be favourably terminated by 

 proper deliberation. Now, should this be your experience, 

 permit me to say, that you are unprepared to encounter 

 the game with any degree of success; and you had better 

 take the accoutrements from your shoulders, and sit in the 

 shade, and calm your feelings for half an hour at least; and 

 if within your reach, take a draught of cold water. Do 

 not fear the game will escape, — it will assuredly do so if 

 you attempt to spring it, — but if it is in good cover, it will 

 await your approach more than double the time sufficient 

 to calm yourself. When, therefore, prepared to pursue 

 your way, and your dogs come on the scattered birds, — 

 act towards them as on previous cases, and walk direct to 

 the game and flush it, — and so soon as you have fired, 

 bring your dogs in to you as usual, and without removing 

 from the spot, reload your gun. Whether you have killed, 

 wounded, or missed the bird, — still do not leave the spot, 

 as but a few steps more may alarm another bird, and this 

 a third, and so on until, one by one, the remainder may 

 rise, as is frequently the case, especially if better cover 

 for them be near, until every bird escapes you. 



This more particularly occurs, if on winging a bird 

 you attempt to recover it. A wounded bird will always 

 seek the company of its fellows, and if you or your dog 

 chases it, there are nine chances out of ten that you will 

 encounter the remnant of the flock, and thus for the sake 

 of securing one bird, you will lose perhaps six or eight fine 

 shots; — besides, I have seen persons so excited by shooting 

 down and only winging a Partridge, as to drop their guns 

 and give chase, and several minutes have elapsed before 

 recovering it, after the most violent exertion, through 

 bushes, thickets, and over fences, and many times all this 

 labour has been fruitless, thus losing the bird, alarming 

 the others, and rendering themselves unfit to pursue 

 their excursion successfully for some time. A person 

 thus situated is not fit to hunt for at least one hour. 

 He has unnerved and heated himself, and done more in- 

 jury to his dog, than a whole week of cautious hunting 

 will repair. Should you wing your bird, you have a bet- 

 ter chance of finding it, by letting your dog hunt it lei- 

 surely after you are ready again, as the bird will run its 

 course, and leave a strong scent in the grass, and should 

 you be training a young dog, this will be the most desira- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



141 



able opportunity to prove the quality of his nose, as well 

 as derive a most useful lesson. Many persons train young 

 dogs with birds loosed from the hands, which at best is 

 but a poor plan, as the prisoner bird retains the scent of the 

 hand, and makes it more easily found — and a young dog 

 would stop at the scent of his master, when he would not 

 at that of the bird — but in the former case, the wiles and 

 dexterity of the wounded bird will certainly put the quali- 

 ties of your dog to the test, and should he find and point 

 this bird in a handsome style, it will be worth a dozen 

 birds found and hunted in the usual manner. 



The most favourable places to get your game scattered, 

 are high grass and low bushes — and to be successful even 

 here, you must exercise your best judgment in regard to 

 the government of yourself and dogs — and this too with- 

 out noise, as much of your sport will depend on silence; 

 being careful in these respects, you will stand a good 

 chance of getting the larger portion of the flock. In 

 December, 1888, I recollect flushing a covey of partridges 

 on high ground, which was covered with rye stubble, and, 

 as is commonly the case, the flock divided into two parties, 

 one division containing seven, and the other thirteen or 

 fourteen birds; the former sought refuge in a low spot of 

 ground covered with Indian grass, and low alder bushes, 

 while the latter portion of the flock made a long flight to 

 a tall wood, and by their course formed a right angle. It 

 was late in the afternoon, and I felt convinced that the 

 first party, owing to the good cover they were in, would 

 remain motionless until the time approached for them to 

 call together, to feed and roost. I therefore sought the 

 more distant party first, and found them well scattered 

 among the leaves on a hill side, out of which I got nine. 

 I then proceeded to the small division, and by observing 

 much caution and quietness, I shot the whole, making to- 

 gether sixteen out of a covey of not more than twenty- 

 one birds. 



I have known other sportsmen to meet with like suc- 

 cess; and it is only mentioned hereto show that you must 

 exercise good judgment, and when you are thus situated, 

 you had better always leave that portion or covey which 

 are well covered, and proceed after those which are the 

 most distant, especially if you are ignorant of the nature 

 of the ground they have flown to. Not only young, but 

 also experienced sportsmen, are anxious to secure the 

 nearest birds, and cannot withstand the temptation of birds 

 being within their almost certain grasp, and pass on to a 

 more distant part of the same covey — but experience often 

 proves, that in stopping to shoot at near birds, the others 

 have completely escaped — for it is reasonable to suppose, 

 that the part of a covey which flies to a distant spot, is 

 gone to a strange neighbourhood, and this being the case, 

 N N 



they feel insecure, and will only remain but a short time 

 till their first fears are allayed, and hearing no one ap- 

 proach, will congregate, and move off with great rapidity. 

 There is scarcely a bird so tenacious of its hiding 

 place as the partridge when alarmed, which will remain un- 

 moved until the very fibres of the grass on which it rests 

 are disturbed; and most sportsmen know how frequently 

 these birds have been brushed out of the leaves from im- 

 mediately under the dog's nose: — therefore leave no bush, 

 tussock, briar, or likely spot untried, in the region where 

 you have birds scattered — and after having tried once, do 

 not be discouraged at trying again, until you can flush no 

 more birds. There is a circumstance attending the par- 

 tridge which puzzles philosophj-, and often discomfits 

 the keenest sportsman, and his wily and sagacious dog; 

 and this is the fact, that at one time you may pass by, and 

 indeed within a few inches of a hidden bird, and the best 

 dog in the world will not discover it — and perhaps within 

 half an hour in repassing this spot your dog may discover 

 and point the bird before he approaches within twenty 

 feet. I have often pondered on this fact, but never could 

 deduce reasons sufficiently good to insert here, or that 

 would prove satisfactory — but of this, every experienced 

 sportsman is aware, and he also knows, that he has en- 

 countered birds in an hour or two after he has flushed them, 

 that completely baflBed his pursuit at that time. It is an 

 old saying, '< that a bird in the hand is worth two in the 

 bush" — and it is equally as true that a bird which you 

 know to be in the bush is worth two yet to be hunted, 

 and you should never leave a spot where you have scat- 

 tered birds, until success no longer attends your pursuit. 

 Show me a man who is traversing field after field in search 

 of fresh coveys, and leaving the scattered birds behind, 

 and I will tell you that he is no sportsman. The most 

 important thing to a good shot, is to get the birds well 

 scattered in ground favourable to shooting, and here pick 

 them up one by one; nor does he leave the spot until he 

 has flushed nearly, if not quite every bird — this is what 

 may be styled clean hunting, and such an one will bag 

 twofold more than him who is so slovenlj^ in his hunting 

 as only to flush a covey, kill his bird or two, and then 

 seek others. The pleasure of a sportsman arises chiefly 

 from the sagacity and faithfulness of his dog in hunting 

 the scattered birds, for here depends his chief success. 

 He also saves himself and dogs much unnecessary labour. 

 While beating ground for scattered birds, proceed at a 

 very slow gait, and frequently pause, for this interruption 

 to motion will sometimes cause a bird to spring, which 

 otherwise would remain quiet until you passed by. Never 

 strike a bush or cover with your gun, for I have known 

 the wadding started from the shot, by a sudden blow, and 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



sometimes the gun discharged — avoid every thing likely 

 to produce accident. 



On entering tall cover with a companion, you cannot 

 be too cautious of shooting each other; many a gentleman 

 has to lament the loss of an eye, or some other injury, by 

 the carelessness and indiscretion of his friend. If your 

 companion is of an impetuous and heedless disposition, the 

 sooner you drop his company the better, for you are cer- 

 tainly in danger from him, and in shooting in high co- 

 ver, you have as many chances of being shot, as the 

 bird, and this feeling so occupies your mind, that it unfits 

 you to shoot. It is certainly advisable to hunt in compa- 

 ny; but only choose one friend, and endeavour to modify 

 your actions alike, especially the rate of walking, and then, 

 when you are obscured from each other by thickets, there 

 is less probability of one getting ahead of the other, and 

 thus unconsciously rush into danger. When thus situated, 

 and game before you, it is highly important to know each 

 other's distance and direction — a low whistle, or a cough, 

 will be heard sufficiently distant for this purpose, and it 

 should be immediately responded to by your companion. 

 Do not call violently to your dogs, nor talk, as in all pro- 

 bability there may be Pheasants near you, and a very 

 trifling noise will make them take flight. 



When a bird springs in cover of this kind, you will at 

 first, no doubt, experience much difficulty in killing it, 

 owing to the many objects which interpose between your 

 sight and the game; but if you have founded your shoot- 

 ing on my early instructions of sighting, viz. "to fix 

 your eyes intensely on the object to be shot at," these 

 various objects will not affect you, and so long as an open- 

 ing between the shrubbery presents itself through which 

 you can see the game, and this having monopolized j-our 

 attention, that you will find no more difficulty in killing 

 your bird here, than in open ground, if your trigger obeys 

 its impulse. Let me advise you particularly in this case, 

 not to shoot too soon; this you may be induced to do in 

 consequence of the apparent great distance of the bird 

 from j-ou, but this delusion is only occasioned by the 

 multitude of things which, being between you and the 

 game, have the tendency of throwing it in the distance, 

 and should j'ou have thrown one charge unsuccessfully at 

 the bird, do not hesitate to try the second, and you will 

 find the result will be more favourable — let the object be 

 fairly on the wing, for the longer the angle of aim, the 

 easier it will be to cover the bird. 



It is a difficult thing to follow our game successfully in 

 thickets or other woodland — the great velocity of the birds 

 and density of the shrubbery make it perhaps as meritori- 

 ous in destroying much game as any feats connected with 

 the sporting world; this is placing art and science against 



nature, and nature, too, in the wildest and most rugged 

 sense. There are perhaps no game birds on earth which 

 fly with the same amazing rapidity as Partridges, Phea- 

 sants, and Grouse, when matured, and yet I have seen 

 sportsmen who shot so well that two out of three of all 

 the shots they made in ground covered with trees and 

 underbrush, were about a fair proportion of what they 

 killed. This under any circumstances is not bad shoot- 

 ing, but in cases like the above, it is superlatively good. 

 It is not often however you can find a man competent to 

 this task, and many gentlemen who have earned great 

 reputation as first rate shots, on the shooting manors of 

 Europe, have cut but odd figures in our forests, after 

 American game. 



I advise no young sportsman to relinquish a piece of 

 ground from the prospective difficulties he has to encoun- 

 ter on it — if you enter the sporting world, you must 

 take it rough, as well as even, and if success does not at- 

 tend a single shot which you make in ground of the above 

 cast, never mind, load and fire away, until you have shot 

 all difficulty from before you. Conquer the rough places, 

 and all others will be easy enough, and if after you have 

 been practising in difficult places from time to time, you 

 should now and then kill a bird, you will find the accom- 

 plishment of the same object in open ground not half so 

 hard as at first. Before you return to your home, or even 

 to the tavern, or carriage, discharge your gun of its con- 

 tents. Let the many melancholy accidents so often oc- 

 curring, be sufficient warning that no loaded gun should 

 ever appear, except in the field; — you know not the con- 

 sequences of your carelessness, after your gun may pass 

 from under your notice; and the most certain method of 

 feeling comfortable yourself, and preventing injury to 

 others, is to shoot off your gun. Do not attempt to draw 

 the load for the sake of saving the shot; the risk is ten 

 thousand times greater than the value of the article you 

 would secure. Many a man has sacrificed his future comfort 

 at the shrine of avarice. I. 



RAIL SHOOTING. 



Or all the seasons for shooting, none are hailed with a 

 more hearty welcome by the gunners of the city and 

 county of Philadelphia, than that for shooting Rail. About 

 the first of September this campaign opens, and although 

 these birds are but little else than skin and bones, yet such 

 is the impatience of some shooters, that the war of exter- 

 mination is carried on without intermission from that period 

 until their final departure from our rivers. They are not 

 found in great numbers, however, until toward the latter 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



143 



end of September, at which time they may for the first 

 be accounted fit for the table. From the 20th of Septem- 

 ber to the 10th of October is the season of the greatest 

 plenitude and fatness, and is therefore c vsidered the pro- 

 per period for shooting, and the havoc made during the 

 lapse of these few weeks amongst these feathered visitants, 

 is astounding and almost incredible. 



To those who are unacquainted with the bird, (as is the 

 case almost wholly to the north,) the quantity killed during 

 the shooting season, would seem entirely fabulous; but 

 those who are accustomed to shooting them, will rate 

 the quantity enumerated below as moderate. The writer 

 had the curiosity, a few years since, to take the aggregate 

 of some shooters on several successive days at one of the 

 favourite places of resort near the city; and as these days 

 were considered at the time a fair average for the season, 

 it was computed that not less than 24,000 Rail were 

 slaughtered in twenty days, by the gunners which came 

 to this place. Although this is considered the most pub- 

 lic place of resort at this season, still there are several 

 others, to which numbers of persons concentrate, and 

 should I say that one hundred thousand Rail are killed 

 and brought to Philadelphia during the short lapse of one 

 month, it would be within bounds. 



This sport is followed, not altogether for the value of 

 the birds, but the amusement it affords, and the little la- 

 bour required on the part of the shooter. The Rail shoot- 

 er enjoys a satisfaction peculiar to this sport, which is not 

 likened to shooting of any other description — it is unattend- 

 ed with fatigue, and was it not for the heat of the sun to 

 which you sometimes become exposed, it would be for the 

 time it lasts, one of the most agreeable pastimes known. 

 The shooter mounts his buggy, drives a few miles, enters 

 his boat, and is rowed gently along the margin of the reeds 

 until the tide is sufficiently high to bear the batteau over 

 the flats, when he stations himself in the forepart of the 

 boat, and shoots as the disturbed Rail rises to escape — he 

 has no other work than to load his gun, and discharge it 

 again at the flying birds, and it is not even necessary for 

 him to mark where they have fallen, or attempt to pick 

 them up. All of this requires so little labour and exposure 

 to dirt, that a change of clothing is scarcely necessary; 

 and, indeed, the suit usually worn by experienced shoot- 

 ers, is spotless white. It is not so, however, with the men 

 who push you over the flats; on them all the fatigue rests; 

 and it is work of the hardest kind, but the compensation 

 is equivalent for all the labour, during so short a period, 

 and these men enter into the spirit of the work with the 

 utmost cheerfulness, and are exceedingly ambitious to ex- 

 cel their competitors, not only in speed, but in the number 

 of birds slain — it is therefore all important to their interests 



to serve those shooters who can kill nearly every bird 

 which is shot at, as well as be expert in loading. The 

 labour of the pusher consists chiefly in directing the boat 

 through the reeds by means of a long pole. With this instru- 

 ment, (which is usually about twelve to fifteen feet in 

 length) he stations himself in the hinder part of the boat, 

 and applying the pole to the mud, he drives along at a 

 steady, sometimes a rapid rate; his duty is to push through 

 the thickest reeds, and keep constantly in motion, and 

 whenever a bird rises, to give the signal to the shooter, 

 by saying " mark," and when the bird falls, to mark the 

 spot and push up in _order to recover the shot bird; and 

 it is really astonishing with how much precision this is 

 done, which to an inexperienced eye would be lost, and 

 perhaps not one-half the birds recovered, when some of 

 the best pushers collect on an average ninety-five out of 

 every hundred birds killed. The merit of the pushers 

 consists chiefly in the three following items, viz. judgment 

 as to the ground, strength and nerve to keep the boat in 

 motion, and success in recovering the shot birds — accord- 

 ing as a man possesses these, so is he esteemed, and a good 

 pusher has engagements nearly alwa)'s a week or ten days 

 in advance. 



It is a difficult matter for an inferior shot to secure the 

 services of a first rate pusher; they hate to labour in vain, 

 although paid as much by a bad as a good shot; yet, as they 

 say, "their duty is hard, and to be pushing hour after 

 hour after live birds is dull work," they work hard, and 

 are anxious to show something for their labours, and avoid 

 that teasing and low criticism directed against them by 

 their more fortunate fellow pushers, whenever they return 

 unsuccessful. 



There is no spot in this country where this amusement 

 is followed to so great extent as on the Delaware river, 

 and it is really an interesting sight, while passing up and 

 down the river in steam boats, to let the eye wander over 

 the almost endless flats of reeds, which line both sides of 

 this river, and see multitudes of boats as far as vision can 

 avail, each armed and braving the density of the reeds, 

 like a miniature fleet, ready for action, while the sharp 

 cracking of the more neighbouring guns are constantly as- 

 sailing the ear, and then those more distant, scarcely audi- 

 ble, until again sound can no longer be heard, and the 

 small volume of smoke, like the puff of a segar, tells the 

 work of destruction is going on. 



So rapid is the firing necessary, during the short inter- 

 val allotted to this purpose, that the gun oftentimes be- 

 comes so heated, as not only to render it insupportable to 

 the hand, but dangerous; and it is quite a common occur- 

 rence for a shooter to kill, in a couple of hours, as many 

 as an hundred to an hundred and fifty birds, and some- 




144 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



times a score beyond that number, and these too, shot 

 singly and on the wing. 



These birds are sometimes in such numbers, especially 

 when a high tide uncovers them, that you may see some 

 running rapidly before the boat, others looking at you and 

 wagging their tails, and frequently within a few feet of 

 the boat, while the more timid are endeavouring to escape 

 by their awkward and ludicrous flight. 



The feat of shooting Rail on the wing may be performed 

 by the most inexperienced shot who can sight a gun at all, 

 and the opportunities of exercising the skill of these tyros 

 are einbraced with much eagerness, as the fact of seeing a 

 bird fall before the shot of such, excites them to much 

 perseverance, and gives them occasion to boast of their 

 abilities for the balance of the year. The flight of the Rail 

 is so regular and slow, that a good shot may kill fifty birds 

 •without scarcely or ever missing a shot — this has often 

 been done. 



There is no kind of shooting which draws in its train 

 such a variety of gunners as this sport. At the great 

 places of resort, may be seen characters of all kinds; from 

 the most motley group of horrid looking ragamufiins that 

 would disgrace even a work-house tread-mill, to gentle- 

 men of wealth and fashion, carried thither in their most 

 splendid equipages — the former, who, unable to incur the 

 expense of boats, wander along the shores and wade waist 

 deep in mud and water, to secure a few birds, whose value 

 would not be equal to one-fourth of what a day's industry 

 would obtain at honourable employment — but idleness and 

 intemperance must have their votaries, and no occasion 

 offers better inducement to such than the season of Rail 

 shooting. 



The preparations made by Rail shooters differ much; — 

 the experienced have their charges made into cartridges, 

 so as to afford facility in loading, as on this greatly depends 

 success as to numbers; while others have their materials in 

 an open box, in front of them, at the bow of the boat. Some 

 are supplied with a requisite quantity of powder, and not 

 over eight or ten pounds of shot; and again, others fearful 

 of falling short, will not take less than a whole bag (25 lbs. ) 

 for one tide; the former is generally successful in obtaining 

 a laro-e quantity of birds, while the latter notunfrequently 

 have to put up with less than a dozen. 



It is always necessary to take a cold collation in the 

 boat, as appetite is much awakened by the strengthening 

 breezes on the water, and the exercise occasioned by shoot- 

 in"-; of this the pusher always shares, and unless there 

 should also be signs of something stimulating in the cha- 

 racter of brandy, you are not very favourably regarded by 

 these pushers on other occasions. 



There is not perhaps in all the feathered tribe, an indi- 



vidual so difficult to arouse from its cover as the Rail; no 

 noise, labour, or violence, will make this bird take wing, 

 when a sufficiency of covering enables it to employ its 

 wiles in eluding j;)ursuit — and even when driven by the 

 approach of a boat, on the rise of the tide from one spot 

 by flight to another, you stand a better chance of starting 

 a dozen fresh birds than this one again — and when shot, 

 unless immediately killed, or its energies destroyed so as 

 to prevent it from diving, it is seldom worth your while 

 to seek it, as the time spent in fruitless search would per- 

 haps be sufficient to get half a score of other birds. Owing 

 to the difficult manner in which this bird takes wing, its 

 short and laborious flight, the power of diving and remain- 

 ing under water for a long time, and at times its very sud- 

 den disappearance from our shores, many persons erro- 

 neously suppose that they remain with us the whole win- 

 ter, and as they cannot find their hiding places, take it for 

 granted they lie buried in the mud. The absurdity of this 

 opinion I shall not attempt to show, but will refer the 

 reader to the history of the Rail, page 206, Vol. I. of the 

 "Cabinet of Natural History," where the folly of this 

 doctrine is fully treated, and a more particular account given 

 of this singular bird. 



Rail shooting is condemned by many, as unworthj' of the 

 notice or skill of sportsmen, as not ranking among game, or 

 requiring science to shoot them; but, as it occurs only 

 during that season when game cannot be shot, without 

 violating the law and rules of sporting, it is sought by 

 many who are good sportsmen, as a prelude to the shoot- 

 ing season, and to satisfy in a measure an appetite, which 

 a long interval of idleness creates; it is a fascinating amuse- 

 ment, and he who goes once, if at all successful, will 

 scarcely be able to refrain from going a second or third 

 time. Nos. 9 and 10 shot should be used for shooting 

 these birds, which, on trial, will be found not only suf- 

 ficiently large to kill the bird at a clever distance, but not 

 to do injury when necessity compels the shooter to kill 

 his bird close at hand, as is too often the case. 



The Rail shooter is often rewarded vvith better kind of 

 game. Ducks, teal, plover, and frequently snipe are met 

 with and killed, and it is no uncommon circumstance for 

 some individuals to carry duck guns, by which means a few 

 of these birds are added to the list. 



Rail sell well in market, although such numbers are 

 killed, as most families desire a taste of this popular bird, 

 and was it not for their thick skins, and the intolerable dif- 

 ficulty of divesting them of feathers, they would be re- 

 garded as equal to any bird of game. These circumstances 

 make many good housewives flinch from the task of pre- 

 paring them for the table; and when anything grows un- 

 popular with the ladies, it is " nullified" at once. D. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



145 



GRAY FOX. 



C^NIS CINEREO-JiRGENTJiTUS. 



[Plate XIII. Vol. 2.] 



Renard GHs.-Briss. quad. p. 41. — .dgourachay : Azara, 

 quad due Paraguay, i. p. 317. Canis Cenereo ar- 

 gentatiis. Gmel. Sabine, Zool. apjj. p. 657. God- 

 man, vol. I. p. 280. — Fulvous-necked Fox. Shaw, 

 Zool. Miscel. 



The Gray Fox is an inhabitant of all parts of the 

 United States, from Louisiana to Canada, and as far west 

 as the Rocky Mountains — its chief abode, however, is about 

 human habitations, where it is more destructive than the other 

 species. They are more numerous in the Southern States, 

 more particularly Virginia, and form the chief source of 

 amusement to the sportsmen of that state. 



The Gray differs from the Red Fox in many particulars, 

 although some writers make it only a variety of the latter, 

 and indeed confound the whole race together, attributing 

 the difference only to changes of climate and circum- 

 stances. The Gray Fox is different in colour and in many of 

 its habits, and possesses more cunning and less disposition 

 to wander than the Red Fox. The latter is more active and 

 savage in its disposition, and although exceedingly car- 

 nivorous, is not so destructive to domestic animals as the 

 Gray Fox, and emits an odour extremely offensive, which 

 does not belong to the latter. 



The Fox appears to be spread over the whole earth, and 

 is known by most of the inhabitants of every country, 

 and in every country differs in colour, varying as Gray, 

 Brown, Red, Blue, Black, Silver, and in the severe climes 

 of the arctic regions, purely white. He is one of those ani- 

 mals of which we have the earliest notice in sacred 

 writ; his cunning is proverbial, and his wiles have earned 

 for him a reputation, which would imply more than mere 

 instinct. A writer remarks, that "in Japan, where the 

 Fox is very common, the natives believe him to be ani- 

 mated with the devil; and their histories and sacred 

 writings are filled with strange accounts respecting him." 

 It is not, howevei-, necessary to have recourse to heathen- 

 ish traditions respecting the artfulness of this common 

 enemy; we have him at our very doors, and his frequent 

 depredations are convincing enough, that he possesses 

 more than ordinary share of sagacity and mischief. He 

 indeed appears to dwell in enmity with all animals, and 

 unhesitatingly makes war against them, who, in return, 

 hold him as an outlaw, and show no mercy where mercy 

 is not to be found. Man pursues him with untiring per- 

 o 



severance unto death; the dog, his most formidable foe, 

 hunts him with savage acrimony, and yelling without in- 

 termission, the death-notes of revenge. The wolf is as 

 destructive, but a more necessitous enemy than the dog. The 

 eagle, the crow, the jay, and many smaller birds, attend him 

 as their mortal enemy, with signals of hatred and revenge. 

 He appears to be an isolated being, and did he not pos- 

 sess that energy and cunning which nature has so bounti- 

 fully given him, his race would have long since been anni- 

 hilated. 



The Fox is not only very voracious, but also most 

 unmerciful in his destructive habits, and there is scarcely 

 a living creature that he encounters, and is able to master, 

 but he will destroy. No domestic fowl can escape his 

 pursuit; young rabbits are his chief delight; he will draw 

 the old ones from their seats, and pheasants and par- 

 tridges from their nests, and devour them; geese, ducks, 

 and all species of winged game, fall beneath his voracity; 

 and when such food fails him, he will destroy rats, mice, 

 snakes, frogs, lizzards, and insects: he is an expert fisher, 

 and where these abound, he never fails to get a plen- 

 tiful supply of food. 



Of all animals, none seem so well adapted for the sport- 

 ing world as the Fox, and, as the subject of our present 

 notice possesses a larger share of cunning than the other 

 species, he seems to be pursued by hunters in preference. 

 The very craftiness of his nature fits him well for the 

 ingenious and persecuting spirit of man. 



The Fox prepares a den or burrow under ground, mostly 

 beside a bank, or hill, to which he retreats in case of dan- 

 ger or necessity, but is very fond of reposing above 

 ground, and basking in the sun. It is said they continue 

 to grow for eighteen months, and will live in freedom 

 fourteen or fifteen years, but pine away and die in a much 

 shorter period if in a state of confinement. The follow- 

 ing description of the Gray Fox, is from Godman's Natu- 

 ral History. " The length of the head and body is about 

 twenty-four, and of the tail fifteen inches. The general 

 colour of the animal is grizzly, becoming gradually darker 

 from the fore shoulders, to the posterior parts of the 

 back, produced by the intermixture of fulvous hairs 

 with those constituting the mass of the pelage, which 

 are thus coloured; near the body the hair is rather plum- 

 beous, then yellowish, then white, and then uniformly 

 tipped with lustrous black. The front, from the top of 

 the head to the edge of the orbits is gray, while the rest 

 of the face, from the internal angle of the eye to within 

 half an inch of the extremity of the snout, is blackish; at 

 the extremity on each side of the granalated black tip 

 of the nose it is of a yellowish white. A fine line of black 

 tipped hairs extends upwards and outwards, from half an inch 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



below the internal angle of the eyes, until it is intersected 

 b}- a similar black line about half an inch beyond the ex- 

 ternal angle of the eye, thus forming a very acute trian- 

 gle, whose basis is on the side of the face. This blackish 

 gray triangle, joined to the peculiar sharpness of the face, 

 and the line produced by the black whiskers on the sides 

 of the nose, singularly increase the appearance of slyness 

 and cunning expressed in the physiognomy of this animal. 

 The face below this triangle is white, and the latter colour 

 is continued semicircularly upon the upper part of the 

 throat. The under jaw is blackish, this colour extending 

 along the line of the mouth, and passing about half an 

 inch beyond the junction of the lips at the angle. The 

 inner surface of the ears is clothed with short light yellow- 

 ish hair; their lips on the outside are blackish gray. And 

 the whole of their posterior surface is yellow, which colour 

 descends, encircling the neck, and is the only colour on 

 the anterior parts with the exception of a white spot on the 

 breast. The inferior parts of the body are white, tinted 

 slightly in some individuals with faint reddish brown. The 

 tail is thick and bushy, and the fur on the upper side is 

 pale yellow, slightly tipped with black; the under part is 

 rust coloured; and the end entirely black." 



DISPERSION OF SEEDS OVER THE EARTH. 



The principal of the inanimate agents, provided bj' na- 

 ture for scattering the seeds of plants over the globe, are 

 the movements of the atmosphere and of the ocean, and the 

 constant flow of water from the mountains to the sea. To 

 begin with the winds: a greatnumber of seeds are furnished 

 with downy and feathery appendages, enabling them, 

 when ripe, to float in the air, and to be wafted easily to 

 great distances by the most gentle breeze. Other plants 

 are fitted for dispersion by means of an attached wing, as 

 in the case of tlie fir-tree, so that they are caught up by 

 the wind as they fall from the cone, and are carried to a 

 distance. Amongst the comparatively small number of 

 plants known to Linnseus, no less than one hundred and 

 thirty-eight genera are enumerated as having winged 

 seeds. 



As winds often prevail for days, weeks, or even months 

 together, in the same direction, these means of transporta- 

 tion may sometimes be without limits; and even the 

 heavier grains may be borne through considerable spaces, 

 in a very short time, during ordinary tempests; for strong 

 gales, which can sweep along grains of sand, often move 

 at the rate of about forty miles an hour, and if the storm 

 be very violent, at the rate of fifty-six miles. The hurri- 



canes of tropical regions, which root up trees and throw 

 down buildings, sweep along at the rate of ninety miles an 

 hour, so that, for however short a time they prevail, they 

 may carry even the heavier fruits and seeds over friths 

 and seas of considerable width, and, doubtless, are often 

 the means of introducing into islands the vegetation of ad- 

 joining continents. Whirlwinds are also instrumental in 

 bearing along heavy vegetable substances to considerable 

 distances. Slight ones may frequently be observed in our 

 fields, in summer, carrying up haycocks into the air, and 

 then letting fall small tufts of hay far and wide over the 

 country; but they are sometimes so powerful as to dry up 

 lakes and ponds, and to break off the boughs of trees, and 

 carry them up in a whirling column of air. 



Franklin tells us, in one of his letters, that he saw, in 

 Maryland, a whirlwind which began by taking up the 

 dust which lay in the road, in the form of a sugar-loaf with 

 the pointed end downwards, and soon after grew to the 

 height of forty or fifty feet, being twenty or thirty in 

 diameter. It advanced in a direction contrary to the wind, 

 and although the rotatory motion of the column was sur- 

 prisingly rapid, its onward progress was sufSciently slow 

 to allow a man to keep pace with it on foot. Franklin 

 followed it on horseback, accompanied by his son, for 

 three-quarters of a mile, and saw it enter a wood, where 

 it twisted and turned round large trees with surprising 

 force. These were carried up in a spiral line, and were 

 seen flying in the air, together with boughs and innume- 

 rable leaves, which, from their height, appeared reduced 

 to the apparent size of flies. As this cause operates at 

 different intervals of time throughout a great portion of 

 the earth's surface, it may be the means of bearing not 

 only plants but insects, land-testacea and their eggs, with 

 many other species of animals, to points which they 

 could never otherwise have reached, and from which they 

 may then begin to propagate themselves again as from a 

 new centre. 



The seeds of some aquatic fresh-water plants are of the 

 form of shells, or small canoes, and on this account they 

 swim on-' the surface, and are carried along by the wind 

 and stream. Others are furnished with fibres, which serve 

 the purpose of masts and sails, so that they are impelled 

 along by the winds, even where there is no current. They 

 cannot take root until the water stagnates, or till they 

 reach some sheltered corner, where they may live without 

 being exposed to too much agitation from winds and cur- 

 rents. The above-mentioned contrivances may enable 

 aquatic plants to diffuse themselves gradually to conside- 

 rable distances wherever there is a great chain of lakes, 

 or a river which traverses a large continent. It has been 

 found that a great numerical proportion of the exceptions 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



to the limitation of species to certain quarters of the globe, 

 occur in the various tribes of cr)'ptogamic plants. Lin- 

 naeus observed, that as the germs of plants of this class, 

 such as mosses, fungi, and lichens, consist of an impalpa- 

 ble powder, the particles of which are scarcely visible to 

 the naked eye, there is no difficulty to account for their 

 being dispersed throughout the atmosphere, and carried 

 to every point of the globe, where there is a station fitted 

 for them. Lichens in particular ascend to great eleva- 

 tions, sometimes growing two thousand feet above the 

 line of perpetual snow, at the utmost limits of vegetation, 

 and where the mean temperature is nearly at the freezing 

 point. This elevated position must contribute greatly to 

 facilitate the dispersion of those buoyant particles of which 

 their fructification consists. 



Some have inferred, from the springing up of mush- 

 rooms whenever particular soils and decomposed organic 

 matter are mixed together, that the production of fungi is 

 accidental, and not analogous to that of perfect plants. 

 But Fries, whose authority on these questions is entitled 

 to the highest respect, has shown the fallacy of this argu- 

 ment in favour of the old doctrine of equivocal genera- 

 tion. "The sporules of fungi," says this naturalist, "are 

 so infinite, that in a single individual of Reticularia maxi- 

 ma, I have counted above ten millions, and so subtile as 

 to be scarcely visible, often resembling thin smoke; so 

 light that they may be raised perhaps by evaporation into 

 the atmosphere, and dispersed in so many ways by the 

 attraction of the sun, by insects, wind, elasticity, adhe- 

 sion, &.C., that it is difficult to conceive a place from which 

 they may be excluded." 



In turning our attention, in the next place, to the in- 

 strumentality of the aqueous agents of dispersion, we can- 

 not do better than cite the words of one of our ablest bo- 

 tanical writers. "The mountain-stream or torrent," ob- 

 serves Keith, " washes down to the valley the seeds 

 which ma}^ accidentally fall into it, or which it may hap- 

 pen to sweep from its banks when it suddenly overflows 

 them. The broad and majestic river, winding along the 

 extensive plain, and traversing the continents of the world, 

 conveys to the distance of many hundreds of miles the 

 seeds that ma}' have vegetated at its source. Thus the 

 southern shores of the Baltic are visited by seeds which 

 grew in the interior of Germany; and the western shores 

 of the Atlantic by seeds that have been generated in the 

 interior of America." Fruits, moreover, indigenous to 

 America and the West-Indies, such as that of the Mimosa 

 scandens, the cashew-nut, and others, have been known 

 to be drifted across the Atlantic by the Gulf-stream, on 

 the western coasts of Europe, in such a state that they might 

 have vegetated had the climate and soil been favourable. 



Among these the GuilandinaBonduc, a leguminous plant, 

 is particularly mentioned, as having been raised from a 

 seed found on the west coast of Ireland. Sir Hans Sloane 

 informs us that the lenticula marina, or sargasso, a bean 

 which is frequently cast ashore on the Orkney isles, and 

 coast of Ireland, grows on the rocks about Jamaica, where 

 the surface of the sea is sometimes strewed with it, and 

 from whence it is known to be carried by the winds and 

 currents towards the coast of Florida. 



The absence of liquid matter in the composition of seeds 

 renders them comparatively insensible to heat and cold, 

 so that they may be carried, without detriment, through 

 climates where the plants themselves would instantly 

 perish. Such is their power of resisting the effects of heat, 

 that Spallanzani mentions some seeds that germinated 

 after having been boiled in water. When, therefore, a 

 strong gale, after blowing violently off the land for a time, 

 dies away, and the seeds alight upon the surface of the 

 waters, or wherever the ocean, by eating away the sea- 

 cliffs, throws down into its waves plants which would 

 never otherwise approach the shores, the tides and cur- 

 rents become active instruments in assisting the dissemina- 

 tion of almost all classes of the vegetable kingdom. 



In a collection of six hundred plants from the neigh- 

 bourhood of the river Zaire, in Africa, Mr. Brown found 

 that thirteen species were also met with on the opposite 

 shores of Guiana and Brazil. He remarked, that most of 

 these plants were only found on the lower parts of the 

 river Zaire, and were chiefly such as produced seeds capa- 

 ble of retaining their vitality a long time in the currents 

 of the ocean. 



Islands, moreover, and even the smallest rocks, play 

 an important part in aiding such migrations, for when 

 seeds alight upon them from the atmosphere, or are thrown 

 up by the surf, they often vegetate and supply the winds 

 and waves with a repetition of new and uninjured crops 

 of fruits and seeds, which may afterwards pursue their 

 course through the atmosphere, or along the surface of 

 the sea, in the same direction. The number of plants 

 found at any given time on an islet affords no test what- 

 ever of the extent to which it may have co-operated to- 

 wards this end, since a variety of species may first thrive 

 there and then perish, and be followed by other chance- 

 comers like themselves. 



Currents and winds, in the arctic regions, drift along 

 icebergs covered with an alluvial soil on which herbs and 

 pine saplings are seen growing, which often continue to 

 vegetate on some distant shore where the ice-island is 

 stranded. 



With respect to marine vegetation, the seeds being in 

 their native element, may remain immersed in water 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



without injury for indefinite periods, so that there is no 

 difficulty in conceiving the diffusion of species wherever 

 uncongenial climates, contrary currents, and other causes, 

 do not interfere. All are familiar with the sight of the 

 floating sea-weed 



" Flung from the rock on ocean's foam to sail, 



Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail." 



Remarkable accumulations of drift weed occur on each 

 side of the equator in the Atlantic, Pacific, and Indian 

 Oceans. Columbus and other navigators who first en- 

 countered these banks of algai in the Northern Atlantic, 

 compared them to vast inundated meadows, and state that 

 they retarded the progress of their vessels. The most 

 extensive bank is a little west of the meridian of Fayal, 

 one of the Azores, between latitude 25° and 36°; violent 

 north winds sometimes prevail in this space, and drive 

 the sea-weed to low latitudes, as far as the 24th or even 

 the 20th degree. 



The hollow pod-like receptacles in which the seeds of 

 many algae are lodged, and the filaments attached to the 

 seed-vessels of others, seem intended to give buo)-ancy, 

 and we may observe that these hydrophytes are in gene- 

 ral 2}roliferoi;s, so that the smallest fragment of a branch 

 can be developed into a perfect plant. The seeds, more- 

 over, of the greater number of species are enveloped with a 

 mucous matter like that which surrounds the eggs of some 

 fish, and which not only protects them from injury, but 

 serves to attach them to floating bodies or to rocks. 



But we have as yet considered part only of the fertile 

 resources of nature for conveying seeds to a distance from 

 their place of growth. The various tribes of animals are 

 busily engaged in furthering an object whence they de- 

 rive such important advantages. Sometimes an express 

 provision is found in the structure of seeds to enable them 

 to adhere firmly by prickles, hooks, and hairs, to the 

 coats of animals, or feathers of the winged tribe, to which 

 they remain attached for weeks, or even months, and are 

 borne along into every region whither birds or quadru- 

 peds may migrate. Linnaeus enumerates fifty genera of 

 plants, and the number now known to botanists is much 

 greater, which are armed by hooks, by which, when ripe, 

 they adhere to the coats of animals. Most of these vege- 

 tables, he remarks, require a soil enriched with dung. 

 Few have failed to mark the locks of wool hanging on the 

 thorn-bushes, wherever the sheep pass, and it is probable 

 that the wolf or lion never give chace to herbivorous ani- 

 mals without being unconsciously subservient to this part 

 of the vegetable economy. 



A deer has strayed from the herd, when browsing on 



some rich pasture, when he is suddenly alarmed by the 

 approach of his foe. He instantly plunges through many 

 a thicket, and swims througli many a river and lake. The 

 seeds of the herbs and shrubs adhere to his smoking flanks, 

 and are washed off again by the streams. The thorny 

 spray is torn off and fixes itself in his hairy coat, until 

 brushed ofi" again in other thickets and copses. Even on 

 the spot where the victim is devoured, many of the seeds 

 which he had swallowed immediately before the pursuit 

 may be left on the ground uninjured. 



The passage, indeed, of undigested seeds through the 

 stomachs of animals is one of the most efficient causes of 

 the dissemination of plants, and is of all others, perhaps, 

 the most likely to be overlooked. Few are ignorant that 

 a portion of the oats eaten by a horse preserve their ger- 

 minating faculty in the dung. The fact of their being 

 still nutritious is not lost on the sagacious rook. To many, 

 says Linnaeus, it seems extraordinary, and something of 

 a prodigy, that when a field is well tilled and sown with 

 the best wheat, it frequently produces darnel or the wild 

 oat, especially if it be manured with new dung: they do 

 not consider that the fertility of the smaller seeds is not 

 destroyed in the ventricles of animals. 



Some of the order of the Passeres, says Ekmarck, de- 

 vour the seeds of plants in great quantities, which they 

 eject again in very distant places, without destroying its 

 faculty of vegetation; thus a flight of larks will fill the 

 cleanest field with a great quantity of A-arious kinds of 

 plants, as the melilot trefoil {Medicago lupulina,) and 

 others whose seeds are so heavy that the wind is not able 

 to scatter them to any distance. In like manner, the 

 blackbird and missel-thrush, when they devour berries in 

 too great quantities, are known to consign them to the 

 earth undigested in their excrement. 



Pulpy fruits serve quadrupeds and birds as food, while 

 their seeds, often hard and indigestible, pass uninjured 

 through the intestines, and are deposited far from their 

 original place of growth in a condition peculiarly fit for 

 vegetation. So well are our farmers, in some parts of 

 England, aware of this fact, that when they desire to raise 

 a quick-set hedge in the shortest possible time, they feed 

 turkeys with the haws of the common white-thorn {Cra- 

 tsegus oxyacantha,) and then sow the stones which are 

 ejected in their excrement, whereby they gain an entire 

 year in the growth of the plant. Birds, when they pluck 

 cherries, sloes, and haws, fly away with them to some 

 convenient place, and when they have devoured the fruit, 

 drop the stone into the ground. Captain Cook, in his 

 account of the volcanic island of Tanna, one of the New 

 Hebrides, which he visited in his second voyage, makes 

 the following interesting observation. " Mr. Foster, in 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



his botanical excursion this day, shot a pigeon, in the craw 

 of which was a wild nutmeg. He took some pains to 

 find the tree on this island, but his endeavours were with- 

 out success." It is easy, therefore, to perceive, that 

 birds in their migrations to great distances, and even 

 across seas, may transport seeds to new isles and conti- 

 nents. 



The sudden deaths to which great numbers of frugive- 

 rous birds are annually exposed, must not be omitted as 

 auxiliary to the transportationof seeds to new habitations. 

 When the sea retires from the shore, and leaves fruits and 

 seeds on the beach, or in the mud of estuaries, it might, 

 by the returning tide, wash them away again, or destroy 

 them by long immersion; but when they are gathered by 

 land birds which frequent the sea-side, or by waders and 

 water-fowl, they are often borne inland, and if the bird 

 to whose crop they have been consigned is killed, they 

 may be left to grow up far from the sea. Let such an 

 accident happen but once in a century, or a thousand 

 years, it will be sufficient to spread many of the plants 

 from one continent to another; for, in estimating the ac- 

 tivity of these causes, we must not consider whether they 

 act slowly in relation to the period of our observation, but 

 in reference to the duration of species in general. 



Let us trace the operation of this cause in connexion 

 with others. A tempestuous wind bears the seeds of a 

 plant many miles through the air, and then delivers them 

 to the ocean; the oceanic current drifts them to a 

 distant continent; by the fall of the tide they become the 

 food of numerous birds, and one of these is seized by a 

 hawk or eagle, which, soaring across hill and dale to a 

 place of retreat, leaves, after devouring its prey, the un- 

 palatable seeds to spring up and flourish in a new soil. 



The machinery before adverted to is so capable of dis- 

 seminating seeds over almost unbounded spaces, that 

 were we more intimately acquainted with the economy of 

 nature, we might probably explain all the instances which 

 occur of the aberration of plants to great distances from 

 their native countries. — LyeWs Geology. 



AMERICAN PINE TREES. 



There appears to be fourteen species of Pine found 

 in the extensive forests of North America. The most 

 valuable of these are, the " Long-leaved Pine" {Pinus 

 ^ustralis,) from %vhich the turpentine and tar of Ame- 

 rica are principally produced; the "White Pine," 

 much used in ship-building; the " Hemlock Spruce" 

 [Mies Canadensis,) the timber of which is not good, 

 Pp 



but which affords bark nearl)' as excellent for tanning as 

 that of the oak; and the "American Silver Fir" {^bies 

 balsamifera,) from which is procured the resinous sub- 

 stance known as Canada balsam. 



The principal exportation of deals from America not 

 only to Europe, but to the West Indies, is of the timber of 

 the White Pine. Extensive as are the woods of the United 

 States, this sp ecies of timber has been almost entirely 

 consumed in the thickly- peopled districts; so that those 

 who are engaged in the business of cutting down the trees 

 have to pass the greater part of their time in remote forests, 

 where the White Pine is still found. United in small 

 bands, they penetrate into the woods in the depth of win- 

 ter, having previously in the summer visited the same 

 places to prepare a stock of hay for their oxen. They 

 build themselves huts, roofed with bark; and though the 

 ground is covered five or six feet deep with snow, and the 

 mercury in the thermometer is sometimes eighteen or 

 twenty degrees below the freezing point, they apply them- 

 selves with the utmost courage and perseverance to fell- 

 ing the trees. Cutting them into logs about eighteen 

 feet long, they convey them, in the district of Maine, by 

 means of their oxen, which are admirably trained, to the 

 bank of the Kennebeck river, where they roll them upon 

 the ice. Before the spring, when the frost breaks up, 

 many thousands of these logs are thus collected. They 

 are then carried down the current to Wenslow, about one 

 hundred miles from the sea, at which place, the logs being 

 previously marked, the owners are enabled to select the 

 produce of their respective labours. The timber is here 

 sold to the proprietors of numerous saw-mills established 

 on the Kennebeck, between Wenslow and the coast; and 

 from this point comes most of the American white deal 

 which is shipped to foreign parts. 



The " lumberers" of New Brunswick, and those who 

 cut down the timber of the woods of the United States, 

 select the firs of proper girth and quality with especial 

 care. It is stated, that not one tree in ten thousand is 

 fit for purposes of commerce. These thinnings, there- 

 fore, of the woods of North America do not produce the 

 destruction of timber which now forms a subject of com- 

 plaint in that country of forest-trees. The indiscriminate 

 clearings of the agricultural settlers, and the conflagra- 

 tions which occasionally take place, are the causes, which, 

 in a few centuries, may render North America no longer 

 an exporting country for timber. Sometimes the forests 

 are injudiciously set on fire by the settlers, to save the 

 labour of cutting and partially burning; but by«uch indis- 

 criminate conflagration, the land is not properly cleared, 

 and a very strong and noxious plant, called the fire-weed, 

 instantly springs up, exhausting all the fertility of llie 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ground. Sometimes these conflagrations extend over 

 the whole face of the country, producing the most 

 fearful destruction of life and property. The specta- 

 cle of a burning forest, according to the accounts of those 

 who have witnessed it, is most sublime. The flames leap 

 from tree to tree, and rushing up to their tops, throw out 

 immense volumes of fire from the thick clouds of smoke 

 that hang over the burning mass, while the falling trees 

 come down with the most tremendous crash. 



In October, 1825, upwards of a hundred miles of the 

 country, on the north side of Miramichi river, became a 

 scene of the most dreadful conflagration that has perhaps 

 ever occurred in the history of the world. In Europe, 

 we can scarcely form a conception of the fury and ra- 

 pidity with which the fires rage through the American 

 forests during a dry hot season; at which time the under- 

 wood, deca3'ed vegetable substances, fallen branches, bark, 

 and withered trees, are as inflammable as a total absence 

 of moisture can render them. When these tremendous 

 fires are once in motion, or at least when the flames ex- 

 tend a few miles of the forest, the surrounding air be- 

 comes highly rarefied, and the wind naturally increases to 

 a hurricane. It appears that the woods had been, on both 

 sides of the north-west branch, partially on fire for some 

 time, but not to an alarming extent, until the 7th of Octo- 

 ber, when it came on to blow furiously from the north- 

 west, and the inhabitants on the banks of the river were 

 suddenly alarmed by a tremendous roaring in the woods, 

 resembling the incessant rolling of thunder; while, at the 

 same time, the atmosphere became thickly darkened with 

 smoke. They had scarcely time to ascertain the cause of 

 this phenomenon, before all the surrounding woods ap- 

 peared in one vast blaze, the flames ascending more than 

 a hundred feet above the tops of the loftiest trees, and the 

 fire, like a gulph in flames, rolling forward with incon- 

 ceivable celerity. In less than an hour, Douglastown and 

 Newcastle were enveloped in one vast blaze, and many of 

 the wretched inhabitants, unable to escape, perished in the 

 midst of this terrible fire. 



A Miramichi paper, published on the 11th of October, 

 at the scene of this fearful conflagration, contains some 

 interesting particulars, from which it appears that several 

 hundred lives were lost in Newcastle, Douglastown, and 

 Fredericton; that nearly all the " lumberers" in the woods 

 perished; that in many parts of the country the cattle 

 were all destroyed; and that the loss of property in the 

 towns was immense, as the fire rushed upon the inhabi- 

 tants witli^uch inconceivable rapidity, that the preserva- 

 tion of their lives could be their only care. 



Two new species of Pine, of more gigantic dimensions 

 than any that have hitherto been described in Europe or 



America, have been found by Dr. David Douglas, a most 

 enterprising botanist, who was sent out by the Hor- 

 ticultural Society of London in 1825, to explore the west 

 coast of North America. He returned from that country 

 in the autumn of 1827, bringing with him a rich addi- 

 tion to the known catalogue of plants. These Pines are: — 



1. Pinits Douglasii. — This Pine grows to the height 

 of two hundred and thirty feet, and is upwards of fifty 

 feet circumference at the base. It has a rough corky bark, 

 from an inch to twelve inches thick. The leaves resem- 

 ble those of the spruce, and the cones are small. The tim- 

 ber is of good quality and very heavy. This Pine was 

 found by Mr. Douglas on the banks of the Columbia, 

 where it forms extensive forests, extending from the 

 shores of the Pacific to the Stony Mountains. 



2. Pinus Lamhertiana. — This species of Pine was dis- 

 covered in Northern California, where it is dispersed 

 over large tracts of country, but does not form dense 

 forests like most of the other Pines. It is a very majes- 

 tic tree; and one specimen, which, in consequence of its 

 having been blown down, Mr. Douglas was enabled to 

 measure, was two hundred and fifteen feet in length, fifty- 

 seven feet nine inches in circumference at three feet from 

 the root, and seventeen feet five inches at one hundred 

 and thirty-four feet. It is probably the largest single 

 mass of timber that ever was measured by man, though 

 some of the growing specimens of the same Pine were evi- 

 dently of greater elevation. The trunk of the Lamher- 

 tiana is straight, and clear of branches for about two-thirds 

 of the height. The bark is uncommonly smooth, and the 

 whole tree has a most graceful appearance. The cones 

 resemble thoseof the WeymouthPine, but are much larger, 

 being on an average at least sixteen inches in length. 

 The seeds are eaten roasted, or pounded into cakes. The 

 tree bears a considerable resemblance to the spruces; and, 

 as is the case with them, its turpentine is of a pure amber 

 colour, and the timber soft, white, and light. One sin- 

 gular property of this tree is, that when the timber is 

 partly burned, the turpentine loses its peculiar flavour, 

 and acquires a sweetish taste. It is used by the natives 

 as a substitute for sugar. — Lib. Ent. Knoic. 



THE CHAMOIS. 



The Chamois is a wild animal, but easily tamed, and 

 very docile. It is about the size of a domestic goat, 

 and resembles one in many respects. It is most agreea- 

 bly lively, and active beyond expression. Its hair is 

 short, like that of the doe; in spring it is of an ash colour. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



151 



and in winter of a blackish brown. The large males keep 

 themselves apart from the rest, except in their rutting 

 time. The time of their coupling is from the beginning 

 of October to the end of November; and they bring forth 

 in April and March. The young follows the dam for 

 about five months, and sometimes longer, if the hunters, 

 or the wolves, do not separate them. It is asserted that 

 they live between twenty and thirty years. The flesh of 

 tlie Chamois is good to eat; and some of the fattest afford 

 ten or twelve pounds of suet, which far surpasses that of 

 the goat in solidity and goodness. 



The cry of the Chamois is not distinctly known; if it 

 has any, it is but faint, and resembling that of a hoarse 

 goat; it is by this cry it calls its young; but, when they 

 are frightened, or are in danger of any enemy, or some 

 other object not perfectly known to them, they warn the 

 rest of the flock by a kind of hissing noise. It is observa- 

 ble, that the Chamois has a very penetrating eye, and its 

 hearing and smell are not less distinguishing. When it 

 finds an enemy near, it stops for a moment, and then in 

 an instant flies oil' with the utmost speed. When the wind 

 is in its favour, it can smell a human creature for more 

 than half a mile distance. When this happens, therefore, 

 and it cannot see its enemy, but only discovers his ap- 

 proach by the scent, it begins the hissing noise with such 

 force, that the rocks and the forests re-echo with the sound. 

 This hissing continues as long as the breath will permit. 

 In the beginning it is very shrill, and deeper towards the 

 close. This animal then rests a moment, after this alarm, 

 to inspect farther into its danger: and, having confirmed 

 the reality of its suspicion, it commences to hiss by inter- 

 vals, till it has spread the alarm to a great distance. During 

 this time, it is in the most violent agitation, strikes the 

 ground forcibly with its fore foot, and sometimes with 

 both; it bounds from rock to rock; it turns, and looks 

 round; it turns to the edge of the precipice, and when it 

 has obtained a sight of the enemy, flies from it with all 

 its speed. The hissing of the male is much more acute 

 than that of the female; it is performed through the nos- 

 trils, and is, properly, no more than a very strong breath, 

 forced through the nostrils by fixing the tongue to the 

 palate, keeping the teeth nearly shut, the lips open, and a 

 little lengthened. Their agility is wonderful, as they 

 will tlirow themselves down, across a rock, which is nearly 

 perpendicular, and twenty or thirty feet in height, with- 

 out a single prop to support their feet. Their motion has, 

 indeed, rather the appearance of flying than of leaping. 

 The Chamois feeds upon the best herbage, and chooses 

 the most delicate parts of plants, flowers, and the most 

 tender buds. It is not less delicate with regard to several 

 aromatic herbs, which grow upon the sides of the Alps. 



It drinks but very little, while it feeds upon the succulent 

 herbage, and ruminates, like the goat, in the intervals of 

 feeding. Its head is crowned with two small horns, of 

 about half a foot long, of a beautiful black, and rising from 

 the forehead, almost betwixt the eyes. These horns are 

 often made use of for the heads of canes. The hides of 

 these animals are very strong and supple, and good warm 

 waistcoats and gloves are made of them. 



The hunting of the Chamois is very laborious, and ex- 

 tremely difficult and perilous. It is thus admirably de- 

 scribed by Saussure: — " The Chamois hunter sets out upon 

 his expedition of fatigue and danger generally in the night. 

 His object is to find himself at the break of day in the 

 most elevated pastures, where the Chamois comes to feed 

 before the flocks shall have arrived there. The Chamois 

 feeds only at morning and evening. When the hunter 

 has nearly reached the spot where he expects to find his 

 prey, he reconnoitres with a telescope. If he finds not 

 the Chamois, he mounts still higher; but if he discovers 

 him, he endeavours to climb above him and to get nearer, 

 by passing round some ravine, or gliding behind some 

 eminence or rock. When he is near enough to dis- 

 tinguish the horns of the animal (which are small, 

 round, pointed, and bent backward like a hook,) he 

 rests his rifle upon a rock, and takes his aim with 

 great coolness. He rarely misses. This rifle is often 

 double-barrelled. If the Chamois falls, the hunter runs 

 to his prey — makes sure of him by cutting the hamstrings — 

 and applies himself to consider by what way he may best 

 regain his village. If the route is very difficult, he con- 

 tents himself with skinning the Chamois; but if the way 

 is at all practicable with a load, he throws the animal over 

 his shoulder, and bears it home to his family, undaunted 

 by the distance he has to go, and the precipices he has to 

 cross. 



" But when, as is more frequently the case, the vigi- 

 lant animal perceives the hunter, he flies with the greatest 

 swiftness into the glaziers, leaping with incredible speed 

 over the frozen snows and pointed rocks. It is particularly 

 difficult to approach the Chamois when there are many to- 

 gether. The sentinel, who is placed on the point of some 

 rock which commands all the avenues of their pasturage, 

 makes the sharp hissing sound already mentioned, at tlie 

 sound of which all the rest run towards him, to judge for 

 themselves of the nature of the danger. If they discover 

 a beast of prey or a hunter, the most experienced puts him- 

 self at their head; and they bound along, one after the 

 other, into the most inaccessible places. ' ^ 



" It is then that the labours of the hunter commence; 

 for then, carried away by the excitement, he knows no 

 danger. He crosses the snows, without thinking of the 




THE CABINET OP NATURAL HISTORY, 



abysses which they may cover; he plunges into the most 

 dangcrouspassesofthe mountains; he climbs up, he leaps from 

 lock to rock, without considering how he can return. The 

 night often finds him in the heat of the pursuit; but he does 

 not give it up for this obstacle. He considers that the 

 Chamois will stop during the darkness, as well as himself, 

 and that on the morrow he may again reach them. He 

 passes then the night — not at the foot of a tree, nor in a 

 cave covered with verdure, as does the hunter of the plain — 

 but upon a naked rock, or upon a heap of rougli stones, 

 without any sort of shelter. He is alone, without fire, 

 without light; but he takes from his bag a bit of cheese 

 and some of the barley bread, which is his ordinary food — 

 bread so hard that he is obliged to break it between two 

 stones, or to cleave it with the axe which he always car- 

 ries with him to cut steps which shall serve for his ladder 

 up the rocks of ice. His frugal meal being soon ended, 

 he puts a stone under his head, and is presently asleep, 

 dreaming of the way the Chamois has taken. He is 

 awakened by the freshness of the morning air; he rises, 

 pierced througli with cold; he measures with his eye the 

 precipices he must yet climb to reach the Chamois; he 

 drinks a little brandy (of which he always carries a small 

 provision,) throws his bag across his shoulder, and again 

 rushes forward to encounter new dangers. These daring 

 and persevering hunters often remain whole days in the 

 dreariest solitudes of the glaciers of Ghamouni ; and, during 

 this time, their families, and, above all, their unhappy 

 wives, feel the keenest alarm for their safety. 



"The very few individuals of those who grow old in 

 this trade bear on their countenances the traces of the 

 life which they have led. They have a wild, and some- 

 what haggard and desperate aii-, by which they may be re- 

 cognized in the midst of a crowd. Many of the super- 

 stitious peasants believe that they are sorcerers; that they 

 have commerce with the evil spirit; and that it is he that 

 tlirovy-s them over the precipices." — Biiffo/i's Nat. Hist. 



THE GREYHOUND. 



If we are to regard external appearances only, the 

 Greyhound may be placed at the head of the dog tribe, as 

 there is an elegance in his form which will be vainly sought 

 in any other variety of the canine race. At what pre- 

 cise period the Greyhound first made his appearance in 

 Great Britain is not known; but it must have been many 

 centuries ago — all trace, in fact, of the origin of this ani- 

 mal is completely buried in the oblivion of antiquity. 

 In ancient times, the Greyhound was considered as a 



valuable present, especially by the ladies, with whom it 

 appears to have been a particular favourite; as, for in- 

 stance, the wife of Robert Bruce, when a prisoner to 

 Edward I. in the year 1304, had three men and three 

 women servants, three Greyhounds, plenty of game and 

 fish, and the fairest house in the manor. 



In a manuscript of Froissart, quoted by Montfaucon, 

 there is an illuminated view of Isabella's splendid en- 

 trance into Paris in 1324; a GreT/hoiind attends her, with 

 a flag powdered with Fleur de lys about his neck. 



In the 10th and 11th centuries, the price of a Grey- 

 hound and also of a hawk appears to have been the same 

 as that of a man. During the reign of King John, Grey- 

 hounds were frequently received by him as payment in 

 lieu of money, for the renewal of grants, fines, and for- 

 feitures belonging to the crown. The following extracts 

 show this monarch's attachment to Greyhounds. A fine 

 paid in the year 1203 mentions five hundred marks, ten 

 horses, and ten leashes of Greyhounds; another \n\2\Q, 

 enumerates, one swift running horse, and six Greyhounds. 



We make the following interesting extract from Carr's 

 "Stranger in Ireland:" — "In the morning (says the 

 author, who was then on his journey to Ireland,) I wan- 

 dered to a little church, which owed its elevation to this 

 interesting circumstance: Lewelyn the Great, who re- 

 sided near the base of Snowden, had a beautiful Grey- 

 hound, named Gelert, which had been presented to him 

 by King John. One day, in consequence of the faithful 

 animal, who at night always sentinelled his master's bed, 

 not making his appearance in the chase, Lewelyn return- 

 ed home very angry, and met the dog, covered with blood, 

 at the door of the chamber of his child: upon entering it, 

 he found the bed overturned, and the coverlit stained with 

 gore: he called to his boy, but receiving no answer, he 

 too rashly concluded that he had been killed by Gelert, 

 and in his anguish, instantly thrust his sword through the 

 poor animal's body. The honourable Mr. Spencer has 

 beautifully commemorated the above event: — 



His suppliant looks, as prone he fell, 



No pity could impart; 

 But still his Gelert's dying- yell 



Hung heavy at his heart. 



Aroused by Gelert's dying yell, 



Some slumberer waked nigh: 

 What words the parent's joy could tell, 



To hear his infant cry. 



Nor scathe had he, nor harm, nor dread ; 



But the same couch beneath. 

 Lay a gaunt wolf, all torn and dead, 



Tremendous still in death. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



153 



Ah ! what was then Llewelyn's pain, 



For now the truth was clear ; 

 His gallant hound the wolf had slain, 



To save Llewelyn's heir. 



To mitigate his offence, Llewelyn built this chapel, and 

 raised a tomb to poor Gelert; and the spot to this day is 

 called Beth Gelert; or, the Grave of Gelert, " where 

 never could the spearmen pass or forester unmoved." 



A further instance of the attachment of the Greyhound 

 is to be found among the specimens of early English Me- 

 trical Romance, by George Ellis, Esq., under the article 

 Sir Friamous; 



" The good Greyhound, for weal ne wo. 

 Would not fro the knight go ; 



But lay and licked his wound : 

 He weened to have heald him again, 

 And thereto he did his pain ; 



Lo ! such love is in a hound ! 



" He even scraped a pit for the dead body, covered it 

 with moss and leaves, and guarded it with constant atten- 

 tion, except during the times when he was employed in 

 securing his own subsistence. 



"As his prey diminished, the length of his chase gra- 

 dually increased; and at the close of the seventh year, at 

 the festival of Christmas, he sudden-ly appeared, gaunt 

 with hunger, an unexpected visitor in the hall of King 

 Arragon. Such an apparition excited general surprise, 

 and particularly attracted the attention of Aradas; but the 

 animal, with a gentleness of demeanour, which belied his 

 savage appearance, made the round of the tables and dis- 

 appeared. He returned on the second day, again survey- 

 ed the company, received his pittance, and retreated. The 

 king now recollected the dog, and gave orders to his at- 

 tendants, that, if he should return, they should follow 

 without loss of time, in the confidence that he would lead 

 them to the place where Sir Roger and the Queen were 

 secreted. On the third day of the festival, the hall was 

 filled at an early hour, and Sir INIarrack for the first time 

 took his seat amongst the guests. The Greyhound did not 

 fail to repeat his visits, and with the rapidity of lightning, 

 instantly sprung upon the murderer of his master: — 



" He took the steward by the throat, 

 And asander he it bote ; 



But then he would not 'bide : 

 For to his grave he ran. 

 Then followed him many a man, 



Some on horse, and some beside. 

 And when he came where his master w'as. 

 He laid him down upon the grass, 



And barked at the man again. 

 Q Q 



"The crowd who had followed him, being unable to 

 drive him from the spot, returned witli the tidings to the 

 king, who instantly comprehended the whole mystery. 

 He directed them to dig for the body, which they readily 

 found, and which had been miraculously preserved in 

 such a state of preservation as to be easily recognized. It 

 was then buried in holy ground with all due solemnity, 

 and the faithful dog shortly after expired on the tomb 

 which was raised in memory of his master. " 



The Greyhounds, however, of these early days, were, 

 in all probability, something similar to the Irish wolf dog, 

 or large rough Greyhound, from which the modern Grey- 

 hound was bred no doubt, but, in the progress of what was 

 considered improvement, very much altered in appear- 

 ance, and became less powerful and less courageous. The 

 modern Greyhound exhibits a striking instance of what 

 may be accomplished by attention in the way of speed and 

 beauty; but this has been obtained at the expense of 

 strength, of courage, and of sagacity. We have many re- 

 corded instances of the striking sagacity of the Greyhound 

 of old; but it is an incontrovertible fact, that the modern 

 high-bred Greyhound, on the score of sagacity, is inferior 

 to every other variety of the dog tribe. But to pro- 

 ceed — 



In former days, such was the esteem in which Grey- 

 hounds were held, that even their collars were composed 

 of the most valuable materials. In Hawes' Pastime of 

 Pleasure, written in the time of Henry VII. Fame is at- 

 tended with two Greyhounds; in whose golden collars, 

 Grace and Governcmce are inscribed in golden letters. 

 These ornaments are often mentioned in the inventory of 

 furniture, in tlie royal palaces of Henry VIII. In the 

 Castle of Windsor, under the article Collars, may be 

 found the following entries: — 



"Two G-)'eyhoimds^ collars of crimson velvet and cloth 

 of gold, lacking torretes.'' 



" Two other collars with the king's arms, and at the 

 ende portcullis and rose." 



"Item. — A collar, embrowdered with pomegranates 

 and roses, with torretes of silver and gilte. " — "A collar 

 garnished with stole work, with one shallop shelle of silver 

 and gilte." 



In Henry the Eighth's reign, the Greyhound was dis- 

 tinguished as one of the king's beasts: — we read that at 

 the siege of Tournay, in the year of 1513, instead of a tent, 

 Henry had a timber house with an iron chimney, and 

 several pavilions, on the top of which stood "the king's 

 beastes, viz. the lion, the dragon, the antelope, the Grey- 

 hound, and the dun cow. " 



The old couplets that describe the Greyhound are very 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



exact in the points they recommend as necessary to form 

 a complete Greyhound. 



" Head like a snake, 

 Neck'd like a drake, 

 Back'd like a beam. 

 Sided like a bream. 

 Tailed like a rat. 

 And fooled like a cat." 



In choosing a whelp, the choice was formerly governed 

 by the weight, and that which was the lightest, it was 

 supposed, would prove the nimblest and best. The raw- 

 boned, lean, loose-made, and unseemly whelps, grew up 

 well-shaped dogs; whereas, those that after three or four 

 months appeared round, close trussed, and well built in 

 every part, were not worth the rearing, seldom proving 

 swift or comely. It was also an observation formerly, 

 that bitches were commonly more speedy than the dogs. 



The time to first try and train them to their game was 

 at twelve months old, and there is little variation in this 

 respect at the present day. 



At two years old, the Greyhound is full-grown, and the 

 choice of one at that age was to be directed by his having 

 a fine skin, with soft thin hair, a long lean head, with a 

 nose sharp from the eye downwards; a full clear eye, with 

 large eye-lids, little ears, a long neck bending like a drake, 

 with a loose hanging weasand, broad breast, his body 

 neither too long, nor too great, aback straight and square, 

 having a rising in the middle, a small belly, broad shoul- 

 ders, round ribs, with a long space between his hips, a 

 strong stern, a round foot witli large clefts, and his fore- 

 legs straighter than his hinder. 



The breeding of the Greyhound was recommended to 

 be from the well-tried and best bitches, as an indifferent 

 dog was supposed from such a cross to get better whelps 

 than if the excellence was inverted, and the bitch but tole- 

 rable; the surest way to have the whelps excellent was to 

 have both sire and dam good, and not to exceed four 

 years old; if any inequality in their age, it was deemed 

 better to be on the bitch's side, so that the dog was 

 young. 



The art of keeping a Greyhound formerly, as well as 

 entering him properly at his game, is thus described: — 

 The keeping of a Greyhound properly did not consist 

 solely in the meat given him, but also in kenneling, air- 

 iw- and exercise. When he was full in flesh, he was to 

 have the chippings of bread in fresh broth. Milk and 

 bread, butter-milk and soft bones, morning and evening, 

 which was understood to keep him healthy. When he 

 was low in condition or unwell, sheep's heads or feet with 

 the ivool on, chopped into small pieces and made into 



broth, with oatmeal and sweet herbs, was to be his daily 

 food until he recovered his flesh and health. 



The kennel was to be commodious, airy, the door to- 

 wards the south, and the sleeping benches two feet and 

 a half high, perforated with holes for the purpose of carry- 

 ing ofi" the urine: (a dog of any kind, will rarely eject 

 either his urine or excrements on his bed ; on the contrary, 

 if closely confined, he will frequently howl for hours, and 

 even days, sooner than be guilty of what appears repug- 

 nant to his nature:) the straw on the bench was to be fre- 

 quently changed, and the kennel kept extremely clean. 



For Greyhounds that were. going to run, the following 

 diet was recoriimended: — a peck of wheat, half a peck of 

 oatmeal, ground and forced through a sieve; aniseeds 

 bruised and liquorice were to be scattered amongst it; and 

 it was then to be kneaded up with the whites of eggs and 

 new ale, into small loaves, which were to be well baked. 

 This was to be soaked in beef or other broth, and given to 

 them immediately after their airings, morning and even- 

 ing. 



Previously to airing, the dog was to be brushed or rub- 

 bed with a hair cloth; he was then to be led out in a leash 

 half an hour after sun-rising, to some plain where there 

 were neither cattle nor sheep, there to be suffered to frisk 

 about and empty himself, when he was to be led back. In 

 the evening, all this was to be repeated; and in winter, 

 he was allowed once a day the indulgence of the fire. It 

 was recommended to keep him always in kennel, as it 

 was thought his spirit and activity were thereby in- 

 creased. 



The exercise recommended for the Greyhound was 

 coursing; if the courses were long, twice a week was 

 deemed sufficient; otherwise, every other day, and they 

 were to be rewarded and encouraged with the b/ood of the 

 hare. When they were first entered, it was allowable to 

 give them every advantage — such as finding a young hare 

 and giving her no law; but this was not allowable after he 

 had once got blood. 



A toast and butter, upon coursing days, was given early 

 in the morning; if the dog killed the hare, he was not 

 allowed to break her; the hare was taken from him, his 

 mouth cleared of the fur; and he had afterwards the heart, 

 liver, and lights given him. 



After a very hard run, his feet were to be washed with 

 salt and water; and after remaining in the kennel for half 

 an hour, he was to be fed. 



In regard to the modern feeding and training of the 

 Greyhound, opinions are by no means unanimous. Some 

 insist that they should go through a regular course in these 

 respects, something like a race horse. It is asserted, that 

 a dog which has long courses to run should never be over- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



burthened with flesh, and that a Greyhound too fat should 

 have two doses of physic, allowing an interval of six days, 

 and to be moderately blooded between the doses; his food 

 afterwards to be dry boiled meat, occasionally changed 

 to fine oatmeal, reduced to a proper consistency with 

 boiled milk. If with this preparative food, he be allowed 

 to run two or three courses a week, and be regularly rub- 

 bed with a hair cloth all over until the flesh upon his loins 

 becomes elastic and hard, so far as preparation goes, he is 

 complete. Yet it is admitted that all this nicety, all this 

 systematic training and preparation, have frequently been 

 thrown away, and the same dog that has failed in running, 

 when thus artificially prepared, has showed itself far 

 superior in its performances, when no course of training 

 has been previously adopted. 



One thing, however, the writer will venture to state, 

 that the Greyhound should, if possible, always be sufiered 

 to go at large. Nothing so much promotes health and 

 activity as a state of perfect freedom. 



[Sj)07'tsma?i's Cyclopedia. 



NOTES OF A NATURALIST. 



Br Jacob Greex, M. D. 



In a deep valley on the bank of a small creek, about 

 two miles from the village of Canonsburg, in Washing- 

 ton County, Pennsylvania, there is a spring of salt water, 

 from which a quantity of inflammable air is constantly 

 escaping. 



Twelve years since a well was excavated in this place 

 about 200 feet deep, by the ordinary process of boring for 

 water, for the purpose of manufacturing salt, as the brine 

 springs in this neighbourhood appeared very promising. 



A considerable quantity of salt was here manufactured, 

 but as the brine began to grow gradually weaker, it was 

 thought that by tubing the well, to keep out the fresh water 

 which oozed through the sides, and by boring it deeper, 

 that the strength of the brine would greatly increase. This 

 plan was therefore put into execution; the well was tubed 

 with copper, and excavated 200 feet more; so that its 

 \yhole depth was nearly 400 feet. 



When these operations were almost completed, there 

 was a sudden and violent rush of inflammable gas from the 

 sides of the well, about 100 feet below the surface; which 

 not only produced a collapse or flattening of the copper 

 tubes, but projected the water, and large volumes of the 

 gas, between 40 and 50 feet above the surface of the 

 ground, in the form of a magnificent fountain. In the 



night, when a torch was applied to this jet of water and 

 air, it was ignited, and then exhibited a most sublime and 

 magnificent spectacle. Its blaze illuminated the whole 

 valley, and the trees on the summits of the surrounding 

 hills were silvered with the light. This vast column of 

 water by day and of fire by night, continued pouring and 

 blazing to the attitude of about 20 feet, for a number of 

 weeks. 



When the tube, which extended a few feet above the sur- 

 face, and by which the jet was produced, was removed, 

 so that the gas passed freely through a large body of water 

 in the curb of the well, the whole presented the appear- 

 ance of violent ebullition. It seemed as if an intense fire 

 beneath this natural chaldron kept the water perpetually 

 boiling in the most furious manner, not unlike the Guisers 

 in Iceland. The noise occasioned by the escape of the gas 

 could be heard at the distance of many yards, so that 

 strangers on their approach, were often not a little terrified 

 at the sound, and imagined that the earth trembled be- 

 neath their feet. 



The quantity of inflammable gas in this vicinity was so 

 abundant, that small tubes of elder or tin thrust into the 

 ground near the creek, so as to form little jet pipes, the 

 gas escaping from them could be kindled; and it would then 

 burn for a long time with the steady light of a lamp. 



The water of the creek and the fire of the ignited gas 

 were for some time used by the ingenious persons in the 

 neighbourhood for washing and boiling their clothes. A 

 kettle of water, suspended on cross sticks, over a hole dug 

 in the ground, from which the burning vapour issued, 

 were the economical substitute for the implements and 

 fire of the kitchen hearth. 



The above account is the substance of what I heard re- 

 specting the "Burning Salt-well^" which induced me 

 to visit it in 1827, some years after its first irruption. 

 I found it situated as just described, in a deep valley near 

 the road-side. The apparent ebullition of the water, and 

 the consequent escape of the gas, was still very considera- 

 ble. A hole in the ground, about four feet square and 

 deep, cased with timber, forms the curb of the well. The 

 bottom is covered with water to a small depth, and near 

 the middle boils and sparkles from the escape of the gas, 

 which issues from the deep narrow cavity beneath. The 

 water is muddy, and pretty strongly impregnated with 

 salt. It is, however, not sufliciently saturated to make the 

 extraction of the salt from it, by the ordinary process of 

 boiling, a lucrative operation. I now attempted to kindle 

 the gas near the surface of the ground, but being unable 

 to do this, I sprung into the curb of the well, and while 

 lighting a chloric match, the gas took fire all round me, 

 producing a slight explosion, which of course extinguish- 




156 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ed the blaze. I repeatedly kindled and exploded the gas 

 in this manner, but never succeeded in obtaining a steady 

 blaze for any length of time, on account of the smallness 

 of the quantity which issued in a stream, from the water. 

 I caught a quantity of it in a number of vessels, and 

 from various experiments, I have little doubt that it is 

 as pure hydrogen gas as is obtained in the common pro- 

 cesses of the laboratory. It is lighter than any of the well- 

 ascertained hydro-carburets, and it burns with nearly the 

 same pale lambent flame as common hydrogen. There is, 

 however, a distinct sulphurous odour which always ac- 

 companies it. My situation, however, was not favoura- 

 ble for making any accurate experiments. 



The hills which surround the burning spring are strata- 

 fied with beds of bituminous coal, which repose on thick 

 horizontal strata of clay slate. The salt spring appears to 

 be far below the clay slate. In boring the well, they were 

 obliged to cut through thick strata of compact carbonate 

 of lime, which alternated with strata of clay slate. No 

 fossils have been found in the neighbourhood. 



In 1S31, four years after my first visit to the burning 

 well, when the above observations were made, I again ex- 

 amined the spot; but the inflammable gas could no longer 

 be detected, and the water had not the slightest saline 

 1 aste. 



In 1832, I again exSimined this Burning Salf-ivell, and 

 again found the water a little brackish, and a considerable 

 quantit}- of inflammable air escaping from its surface, so 

 that I filled a number of vessels with the gas, and amused 

 myself with igniting and exploding it, several times. 



the longitude in which you cross it. Towards the zone's 

 northern extremes, the weeds are less regularly formed in 

 lines, which may arise from their being less methodically 

 acted upon by the trade winds that seem to occasion their 

 order. They have been termed gulf weeds by sailors, who 

 believed them to be driven out of the gulf by the Florida 

 stream; nor is this opinion entirely refuted by the expe- 

 rience that they are rarely met with in the gulf. For the 

 weed swimming on the surface of the Atlantic is withered, 

 decayed, and incrusted with salt, which proves the time 

 it has been exposed to the sun, and is of a brownish yellow 

 colour, whilst you rarely meet with a green bunch; that, 

 being heavier, on account of its high state of vegetation, 

 swims several feet below the surface. It is true that not 

 with certainty can any roots, thicker branches, or stems 

 be perceived, wherewith they might have adhered to the 

 rocks or the ground: nevertheless, as these weeds abound 

 with animals that do not live upon the surface, but inhabit 

 the bottom of the sea, such as crabs, shrimps, barnacles, 

 conchilias of all descriptions, and serpents, I have no 

 doubt that they originated in a shallow basin of water, 

 out of which they were swept by the force of a current 

 along the bottom, until the heavier vegetable fluid being 

 exhausted, they rose to the surface. Moreover, they are 

 never seen near the European or African coasts, but most 

 plentifully found about the entrance of the gulf. 



[P/iil.lVag. 



EXTRAORDINARY SAGACITY OF A DOG. 



SARGASSO, OR SEA WEEDS. 



In the North Atlantic Ocean, coming from the South 

 you fall in about the tropic, with the Sargasso Weeds, 

 collected in narrow lines extending in the direction in 

 which the trade wind blows, that is, E. N. E. and W^ S. 

 W., and the eye cannot see the end of them on either 

 side of the vessel. These lines run constantly parallel to 

 each other, and the nearer you come to the middle of the 

 Sargasso sea, the thicker it is strewed with weeds, and 

 the closer the lines approach to one another, being in some 

 places but fifteen feet asunder. Home-bound ships have 

 a better opportunity of observing these lines, as they cross 

 nearly at right angles, and can trace their continuation 

 more conveniently on both sides, observing one line after 

 another in rapid succession. 



These weeds occupy the zone from about 20° to 35° 

 north latitude, which may, however, difier according to 



Ox Saturday night, a boy 12 or 14 years of age, who 

 was climbing on the face of a rock in the Grange quarry, 

 Edinburgh, in search of birds' nests, fell into the deep pool 

 below. His companion ran awaj-, calling for help, and a 

 crowd soon collected. A housecarpenter who was pre- 

 sent, ran ofi" to the Grange House, for Sir Thomas Lan- 

 der's Newfoundland dog. The animal immediately sprang 

 in the pool, and made for the place, where the body, 

 though under water, was still visible. He dived once or 

 twice, and, seizing the boy's head, which chanced to be 

 uppermost, he in vain attempted to bring the body ashore; 

 for, as if aware of the necessity of using the most gentle 

 treatment to so vulnerable a part, he took so gentle a hold, 

 that the head slipped from him, and the body sunk deeper 

 and deeper at every successive attempt. Again he dived, 

 and appeared on the surface raising the head gently be- 

 tween his two forepaws, but again it slipped from his 

 grasp, and sunk deeper than ever. The dog now seemed 

 to take council with himself; he made one or two circles 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



over the place where the body had disappeared, and then 

 dived. He remained under water so long, that the by- 

 standers began to entertain considerable fears for his safety. 

 At length, to the great satisfaction'of those present, he ap- 

 peared holding the corpse by the arm, and with his head 

 thrown aside, so as to keep the head of his burthen clear 

 above the water, and in this way he bore it to the bank. 

 The body was immediately taken to a house, and all ex- 

 ertions and means were used to restore the body to anima- 

 tion, but in vain. The dog would not leave the body, 

 but stand by it, licking the face, and exhibiting his full 

 share of the sympathy excited by this melancholy catas- 

 trophe. There was not the slightest scratch on the boy's 

 head or face. — Scotsman. 



BLUE CRANE, OR HERON. 



[Plate XIV. Vol. 2.] 



^rct. Zool. No. 351. — Catesby, i, 76. — Le Crabier 

 bleu Buff. vii. 398. — Sloax. Jam. ii, 315. — Lath. 

 Syn. V. 3 p. 78, No 45, — p. 79, var. Ji. — Ardea 

 ccBvulescens, Turt. Syst. p. 379. — Heron bluatre de 

 Cayenne, Btjff. PI. Enl. 349, adult. — Philadel- 

 phia Museum.. 



In mentioning this species in his translation of the 

 Systema Naturae, Turton has introduced what he calls 

 two varieties, one from New Zealand, the other from 

 Brazil; both of which, if we may judge by their size and 

 colour, appear to be entirely different and distinct species; 

 the first being green, with yellow legs, the last nearly one 

 half less than the present. By this loose mode of discrimi- 

 nation, the precision of science being altogether dispensed 

 with, the whole tribe of Cranes, Herons, and Bitterns, 

 may be styled mere varieties of the genus Ardea. The 

 same writer has still farther increased this confusion, by 

 designating as a different species his Bluish Heron (Jl. 

 cxrulescens,) which agrees almost exactly with the present. 

 Some of these mistakes may probably have originated 

 from the figure of this bird given by Catesby, which ap- 

 pears to have been drawn and coloured, not from nature, 

 but from the glimmering recollections of memory, and is 

 extremely erroneous. These remarks are due to truth, 

 and necessary to the elucidation of the history of his spe- 

 cies, which seems to be but imperfectly known in Europe. 

 The Blue Heron is properly a native of the warmer cli- 

 mates of the United States, migrating thence, at the ap- 

 proach of winter, to. the tropical regions; being found in 

 Rr 



Cayenne, Jamaica, and Mexico. On the muddy shores of 

 the Mississippi, from Baton Rouge downwards to New 

 Orleans, these birds are frequently met with. In spring 

 they extend their migrations as far north as New England, 

 chiefly in the vicinity of the sea; becoming more rare as 

 they advance to the north. On the sea-beach of Cape May, 

 I found a few of them breeding among the cedars, in com- 

 pany with the Snowy Heron, Night Heron, and Green 

 Bittern. Their nests were composed of small sticks, built 

 in the tops of the red cedars, and contained five eggs of a 

 light blue colour, and of somewhat a deeper tint than those 

 of the Night Heron. Little or no difference could be 

 perceived between the colours and markings of the male 

 and female. This remark is applicable to almost the 

 whole genus; though from the circumstance of many of 

 the yearling birds differing in plumage, they have been 

 mistaken for females. 



The Blue Heron, thougli in the northern states it is 

 found chiefly in the neighbourhood of the ocean, probably 

 on account of the greater temperature of the climate, is 

 yet particularly fond of fresh water bogs, on the edges of 

 the salt marsh. These it often frequents, wading about 

 in search of tadpoles, lizards, various larvse of winged 

 insects and mud worms. It moves actively about in search 

 of these, sometimes making a run at its prey; and is often 

 seen in company with the Snowy Heron. Like this last, 

 it is also very silent, intent and watchful. 



The genus Ardea is the most numerous of all the wading 

 tribes, there being no less than ninety-six different species 

 enumerated by late writers. These are again subdivided 

 into particular families, each distinguished by a certain 

 peculiarity. The Cranes, by having the head bald; the 

 Storks, with the orbits naked; and the Herons, with the 

 middle claw pectinated. To this last belong the Bitterns. 

 Several of these are nocturnal birds, feeding only as the 

 evening twilight commences, and repoing either among 

 the long grass and reeds, or on tall trees, in sequestered 

 places, during the day. What is very remarkable, those 

 night wanderers often associate, during the breeding 

 season, with the others; building their nests on the branches 

 of the same tree; and, though differing so little in external 

 form, feeding on nearly the same food, living and lodging 

 in the same place; yet preserve their race, language, and 

 manners as perfectly distinct from those of their neigh- 

 bours, as if each inhabited a separate quarter of the globe. 



The Blue Heron is twenty-three inches in length, and 

 three feet in extent; the bill is black, but from the nostril 

 to the eye, in both mandibles, is of a rich light purplish 

 blue; iris of the eye grey, pupil black, surrounded by a 

 narrow silvery ring: eyelid light blue; the whole head, 

 and greater part of the neck, is of a deep purplish brown; 




158 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



from the crested hind-head shoot tliree narrow pointed 

 feathers, that reach nearly six inches beyond the eye; 

 lower part of the neck, breast, belly and whole body, a 

 deep slate colour, with lighter reflections; the back is 

 covered with long, flat, and narrow feathers, some of 

 which are ten inches long, and extend four inches beyond 

 the tail; the breast is also ornamented with a number of 

 these long slender feathers; legs blackish green; inner side 

 of the middle claw pectinated. The breast and sides of 

 the rump, under the plumage, are clothed with a mass of 

 yellowish white unelastic cottony down, similar to that in 

 most of the tribe, the uses of which are not altogether un- 

 derstood. Male and female alike in colour. 



The young birds of the first year are destitute of the 

 purple plumage on the head and neck. Wilsopj. 



HUDSONIAN GODWIT. 

 SCOLOPJIX HUDSONI^l. 



[Plate XIV. Vols.] 



This beautiful shore bird, is for the first time pictured 

 and presented to the public, through the " Cabinet of Na- 

 tural History and American Rural Sports;" and the edi- 

 tor is much indebted to the Philadelphia Museum for this 

 valuable acquisition to the ornithology of North Ame- 

 rica. It is a rare bird, being the only one of that species 

 in the collection of the Museum, and as represented in the 

 plate, is clothed in summer plumage. The only notice 

 of this bird by former writers, is found in the supplemen- 

 tarv part of Pennant's Arctic Zoology, and appears to have 

 been communicated for publication there by the celebrated 

 ornithologist Latham. The editor of this work has 

 accordingly adopted the name for the bird supplied by 

 that author. 



The Hudsonian Godwit is nearly seventeen inches in 

 length, and twenty-eight in extent; bill three, bending a 

 little upwards; the base half palish brown, the rest black; 

 crown blackish, spotted, and streaked with dusk}' white; 

 sides of the head and back part of the neck nearly the 

 same, but paler; lore dusky; over the eye a whitish streak; 

 chin of same colour; back and scapulars dusky brown, spot- 

 ted with rufous; lesser wing coverts brown; in the mid- 

 dle paler, and marked with a few spots of white; larger 

 coverts, plain ash colour; quills black, with white shafts, 

 the bases of them, from the fourth, white for one-third of 

 their length; rump white; the whole under parts, from the 

 throat to the vent, fine rufous bay, waved across, with 



dusky lines; under tail coverts, waved with white, bay 

 and black; tail feathers white at base, and dusky the rest 

 of their length to within a quarter of an inch of the end, 

 which is dirty white; the inner vanes, of the outer tail 

 feathers, white; legs black. 



The chief abode and places of incubation for this bird 

 appear to be Hudson's Bay and other northerly regions; 

 as we have no notice of its being met with further south 

 than Cape May, where the bird from which the present 

 drawing is made was shot, in May, 1828, by Mr. Titian 

 R. Peale. From thence north it is sometimes, though not 

 frequently seen, and if seen, not known, and appears as 

 fond of wandering along the shores of fresh water ponds 

 as the sea side; it is social in its disposition; being met 

 with in company with the Golden Plover. They 

 usually appear in small parties of four or five; are not 

 shy at first, but unsuspicious and easily shot, but it 

 is seldom met with in the above plumage, which so 

 differs from its fall or winter dress, that none but an expe- 

 rienced eye could identify the bird as the same when 

 found in the latter plumage. From tliis circum- 

 stance I am inclined to think it much more common 

 than is supposed ; but not having appeared south, it has been 

 unnoticed by Wilson and others, and thus omitted in the 

 respective works on American Ornithology. 



Mr. I. F. Ward, a naturalist of New York, who 

 collects quantities of birds from different parts of the 

 United States, for public and private cabinets, informs me, 

 that he scarcely ever met with the Hudsonian Godwit, ex- 

 cept on Hempstead Plains on Long Island, and then 

 rare]}' dressed in the above plumage. 



SPORTING IN THE WILDS OF CANADA. 



In deer stalking, and, indeed, all kinds of sporting in 

 this country, it is often necessary to camp out, — that is 

 bivouac in the woods. This would appear to a man who 

 is curious in well-aired sheets, as the next way to the 

 other world; but in reality there is nothing either danger- 

 ous or unpleasant in the proceeding. Every man carries 

 with him in the woods, punk, that is, German tinder, a 

 fungous excrescence of the maple, and a flint. With this 

 and the back of his knife, a light is struck, and the ignited 

 piece cut off from the mass. This is put into dr}- moss, 

 and blown or swung round the head until it blazes, asd 

 thus a large fire of logs is kindled. Spruce and hemlock 

 are stripped, and moss gathered to make a bed; and if it 

 be dry overhead nothing further is necessary, the party all 

 sleeping with their feet turned towards the fire. If, how- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



ever, it threatens rain, a tent or wigwam of bark can soon 

 be erected, perfectly weather tight. And in winter this 

 may be rendered more comfortable by shoveling the snow 

 up on the walls so as to exclude the wind. 



When a bear runs away with one of youi- pigs, there is 

 no use in going after him, hallooing, without a gun. You 

 may scare him away from the mutilated carcase, but it will 

 make indifferentpork. But trace to where hehasdraggedit, 

 and near sunset let self and friend hide themselves within easy 

 distance, and he will be certain to comeforhissupper, which, 

 like all sensible animals, he prefers to any other meal. Nay, 

 it is highly probable, if he possesses the gallantry which a 

 well bred bear had ought to have, he will bring Mrs. 

 Bruin and all the children along with him, and you can 

 transact business with the whole family at once. 



In hunting the bear, take all the curs in the village 

 along with j'ou. Game dogs are useless for this purpose; 

 for unless properly trained, they fly at the throat, and get 

 torn to pieces or hugged to death for their pains. The 

 curs yelp after him, bite his rump, and make him tree, 

 where he can be shot. The bear of Canada is seldom dan- 

 gerous. He is always read)' to enter into a treat}', " let be 

 for let be" — but if wounded, he is dangerous in the ex- 

 treme. You should always, therefore, hunt him in 

 couples, and have a shot in reserve, or a goodly cud- 

 gel, ready to apply to the root of his nose, where 

 he is as invulnerable as Achilles was in the heel. Some 

 ludicrous stories are told of bear hunting; for Bruin 

 is rather a humorist in his way. A friend of mine with 

 his surveying party, ten men in all, once treed a very 

 large one; they immediately cut clubs, and set to work to 

 fell the tree. Bruin seemed inclined to maintain his posi- 

 tion, till the tree began to lean, when he slid down to 

 about fifteen feet from the ground, and then clasped his 

 fore paws over his head and let himself tumble amongst 

 them. Every club was raised, but Bruin was on the alert; 

 he made a charge upon the man immediately in front, and 

 escaped with two or three thumps on the rump, which he 

 valued not one pin. 



When once they have killed a pig, if you do not manage 

 to kill the bear, you will never keep one hog; for they 

 will come back till they have taken the last of them; — 

 they will even invade the sacred precincts of the pig stye. 

 An Irishman in the Newcastle district once caught a bear 

 flagrante delicto, dragging a hog over the walls of a pew. 

 Pat instead of assailing the bear, thought only of securing 

 his propertj-; so he jumped into the stye, and seized the 

 pig by the tail. Bruin having hold of the ears, they had 

 a dead pull for possession, till the whilli-looing of Pat, 

 joined to the plaintive notes of his protege, brought a 

 neia;hbour to his assistance, who decided the contest in 



Pat's favour, by knocking the assailant on the head. A 

 worthy friend of mine, of legal profession, and now high 

 in office in the colony, once, when a young man, lost his 

 way in the woods, and seeing a high stump, clambered up 

 it with the hope of looking around him. While standing 

 on the top of it for this purpose, his foot slipped, and he 

 was precipitated into the hollow of the tree, beyond the 

 power of extricating himself. While bemoaning there 

 his hard fate, and seeing no prospect before him, save that 

 of a lingering death by starvation, the light above his head 

 was suddenly excluded, and his view of the sky, his only 

 prospect, shut out by the intervention of a dense medium, 

 and by and by he felt the hairy posteriors of a bear descend 

 upon him. With the courage of despair he seized fast 

 hold of Bruin behind, and by this means was dragged once 

 into upper day. Nothing, surely, but the instinct of con- 

 sanguinity could have induced Bruin thus to extricate his 

 distressed brother. — St. ..Andrew's Current. 



From the New England Galaxy. 



SO]ME PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A 



SPORTSMAN. 



[Concluded from page 116.] 



Few birds are more generally known than the wild 

 goose. In its migrations it traverses an immense extent 

 of country; and it is common in the spring and fall of the 

 year to see vast flocks of these birds passing continually 

 over our heads. They sometimes fly so near the earth 

 that hundreds of these winged armies are cut off by the 

 guns of the villagers. On such occasions when the ap- 

 proach of the wild geese is announced, it creates as much 

 excitement as if a hostile force w-^i-e marching upon the 

 town, with drums beating and banners flying. At these 

 times there is no desire of exemption from service, but 

 each man with a hearty zeal that would avail much in cases 

 of human evasion, seizes his gun, and blazes away like ven- 

 geance. They alight along the borders of our sea-shore, 

 or more commonly within our vast baj-s, where they are 

 shot down by myriads. I remember a singular mode of 

 carrying on the war against them on one occasion, prac- 

 ticed in a certain place, (that shall be nameless,) in the 

 state of Maine. A party of hardy old wild fowl shooters, 

 impatient of cutting off" the flocks in detail, with the com- 

 mon gun, succeeded in dragging a six-pound field piece 

 to the sea-shore, whicii they loaded with several pounds 

 of swan shot and pistol bullets, and opened a battery upon 

 the enemy. But they soon were satisfied that this novel 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



weapon would not answer their purpose. It made a vast 

 deal of noise, and discharged a very large volume of flame 

 and smoke, but did no damage to the enemy. In fact the 

 attempt was as vain and fruitless as it would be to detach 

 a strong train of heavy artillery, to act against a horde of 

 flying Tartars, or roving Cossacks. 



But it is rare that tiiey allow themselves when on the 

 wing to approach within gun shot of the fowler. Their 

 flight is not a little remarkable for its extreme regularity. 

 The following is a description of the mode by which, in 

 certain places, which at ebb tide consist of vast muddy flats 

 covered with green sea-weed, " the shooter with his gun, 

 as evening draws on, runs up in his boat among the little 

 creeks which the tide leaves in the mud lands, and lies in 

 patient expectation of his prey. Sea fowl usually feed by 

 night, when in all their multitudes they come down to 

 graze on the savannahs of the shore. As the sonorous cloud 

 advances, (for their noise in the air resembles a pack of 

 hounds in full cry,) the attentive fowler listens which way 

 they bend their course; perhaps he has the mortification to 

 hear them at too great a distance for his gun to reach 

 them; and if he cannot edge his boat round some wind- 

 ing creek, which it is not always in his power to do, he 

 despairs of success that night. Perhaps, however, he is 

 more fortunate, and has the satisfaction to hear the airy 

 noise approach nearer, till at length the host settles in some 

 plain upon the edge of which his boat is moored. He now, 

 as silently as possible, primes both his pieces anew, (for 

 he is generally double armed,) and listens with all his at- 

 tention: it is so dark that he can take no aim; for if he 

 could discern the birds, they would also see him ; and being 

 extremely timorous, would seek some other pasture. 

 Though they march with noise, they feed with silence; 

 some indistinct noises, iiowcver, if the night he still, issue 

 from so vast a concourse; he directs his piece tlierefore to- 

 wards tlie sound, fires at a venture, and instantly catching 

 up his other gun, discharges it where he supposes the flock 

 to rise on tlie wing. His gains for the night are now de- 

 cided, and he has only to gather his harvest. He imme- 

 diately puts on his mud pattens, (flat, square pieces of 

 board which the fowler ties to his feet, that he may not 

 sink into the ooze,) ignorant yet of his success, and goes 

 groping about in the dark in quest of his booty, picking 

 up sometimes many, and perhaps not one! But this is a 

 very hazardous and uncertain sport; for the boat is liable 

 to become fixed immoveably in the mud; and the wounded 

 birds, which cannot be collected, arc swept away by the 

 returning tide. I have heard of these shooters, who, 

 when once traversing one of these oozy plains in search of 

 ducks, and being intent only on his game, suddenly found 

 the water, which had been accelerated by some peculiar 



circumstances affecting the tide, had made an alarming 

 progress around him. In a short time he was completely 

 encircled, and miraculously saved his life by thrusting the 

 barrel of his long gun into the mud, to which he continued 

 to cling until the waters had subsided. It is not a little 

 hazardous to venture forth on rough waters in one of these 

 little "punts," usually employed by water fowl shooters. 

 In this little egg-shell of a skiff he drops down with the 

 tide, or cautiously uses the paddle, and knowing their 

 haunts, takes every advantage of wind, tide, &c. His 

 gun, of great calibre, is laid with the muzzle over the 

 stern of the boat, in a hitch, which regulates the line of 

 aim. In the bottom of the little egg-shell the sportsman 

 deposits his limbs and body as comfortably as possible; and 

 a very moderate inclination to either side will endanger a 

 total shipwreck. It is customary to paint those little 

 skifis with a green colour, or, what is better, to cover the 

 sides with sea weed; a deception which enables you to ap- 

 proach within shooting distance, without giving alarm. 

 But these slight boats are so easily upset, that it is abso- 

 lutely essential that the fowler should be an expert swim- 

 mer. Indeed it is a species of foolhardiness for any per- 

 son who is in the habit of shooting along the sea-shore to 

 venture into exposed places, without the ability in case of 

 need, to escape by swimming. A friend of the writer not 

 long since, when shooting on the sandy flats of Sandwich, 

 owed his life to his skill as a swimmer. The game on 

 the occasion alluded to chanced to be abundant, and in his 

 ardour, he suff"ered the tide to rise unobserved and com- 

 pletely environ him. When he became first aware of his 

 peril, he perceived that a strong and rapid current was 

 furiously racing between himself and the shore, and he 

 saw that his only safety consisted in attempting without a 

 moment's delay to stem it, and reach the opposite shore. 

 But upon wading into the current, he soon ascertained 

 that there was no resting place for his foot, as the quick- 

 sands beneath him yielded to his pressure, and unless he 

 could manage to keep above them by swimming, he must 

 be swallowed up. He was encumbered with a heavy game 

 bag, (overflowing with slaughtered plovers,) and a flask 

 and shot belt in addition to his gun. He contrived, in the 

 water, to disencumber himself of the former, and was soon 

 compelled, though unwillingly, to relinquish the latter, 

 which sank to rise no more, and with great exertion he 

 reached the shore when completely exhausted. The gun 

 was, (I fear,) irretrievably lost; yet if any of my sporting 

 friends should ever happen to unearth it, I would thank 

 them to leave it at the Galaxy office, till called for, "and 

 they shall be suitably rewarded." 



Duck shooting is perhaps more practiced by the sports- 

 men in this neighbourhood, than any other species of shoot- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



161 



ing. These birds are numerous, and we have great facili- 

 ties for taking them. At this season of the year, and in 

 autumn, all the surrounding shores and bays are lined 

 with gunners in pursuit of them. At this period, they 

 may be seen swimming among the very wharves of the 

 city, with as much unconcern as if paddling about in the 

 remotest northern ocean. At Nantasket, at Cohasset, or 

 Nahant, or Sandwich, we dare say they may now be 

 found in abundance. In some places they are taken in 

 decoys, into which they are enticed by decoy-ducks. 

 These consist of reeds planted in water, and bent over in 

 the form of a tunnel, and covered with a net. The man- 

 ner of managing a decoy is as follows: As soon as the even- 

 ing IS set in, the decoy rises, as they term it, and the 

 wild fowl feed during the night. If the evening be still, 

 the noise of their wings, during their flight, is heard at a 

 very great distance, and produces no unpleasant sensation. 

 The fowler when he finds a fit opportunity, and sees his 

 decoy covered with fowl, walks about the pool, and ob- 

 serves into what pipe or tunnel, the birds gathered in the 

 pool may be enticed or driven. Then casting hemp-seed 

 or some such seed as will float on the surface of the water, 

 at the entrance and up along the pipe, he whistles to his 

 decoy-ducks, who instantly obey the summons, and come 

 to the entrance of the pipe, in hopes of being fed as usual. 

 Thither also they are followed by a whole flock of wild 

 ones, who little suspect the danger preparing against them. 

 The wild ducks, therefore, pursuing the decoy-ducks, are 

 led into the broad mouth of the channel or pipe, nor have 

 the least suspicion of the man, who is there concealed. 

 When they have got up the pipe, however, finding it 

 grows more and more narrow, they begin to suspect dan- 

 ger, and would return back, but they are now prevented 

 by the man, who shows himself at the broad end below. 

 Thither, therefore, they dare not return; and rise they 

 may not, as they are kept by the net above from ascend- 

 ing. The only way left them, therefore, is the narrow- 

 funneled net at the bottom; into this they fly and there 

 they are taken. 



It often happens, however, that the wild fowl are in 

 such a state of sleepiness or dozing, that they will not fol- 

 low the deco3'-ducks. Use is then generally made of a 

 dog who is taught his lesson. He passes backward and 

 forward among the reed-hedges, in which there are little 

 holes both for the decoy-man to see, and for the little dog 

 to pass through. This attracts the eye of the wild fowl, 

 who, prompted by curiosity, advance towards this little 

 animal, while he all the time keeps playing among the 

 reeds, nearer and nearer the funnel, till they follow him 

 too far to recede. Sometimes the dog will not attract 

 their attention till a red handkerchief or something very 

 Ss 



striking be put about him. In China, such numbers of 

 gourds are at all times floating down their rivers, or on 

 the surface of the pool, that the ducks from habit, are not 

 startled by them; John Chinaman taking advantage of this 

 circumstance, has hit upon a very ingenious device for 

 taking them. He hollows out one of these gourds, large 

 enough to enclose his head, and with his whimsical head- 

 gear, wades into the water, taking care that his body is 

 concealed beneath the water. By this method, he manages 

 to jerk the whole flock, one after another under the sur- 

 face, where strangulation soon deprives them of the power 

 to sound the alarm to their comrades. M. 



For the Cabinet 



UNITED BOWMEN OF PHILADELPHIA. 



" All by the shady green-wood tree, 

 The merry, merry archers roam ; 

 Jovial and bold, and ever free, 

 They tread their woodland home. 

 Roving beneath the moon's soft light, 

 Or in the thick embowering shade, 

 List'ning the tale with dear delight, 

 Of a wand'ring Sylvan Maid." 



[Archers' Glee in the Maid of Judah. 



Such in the olden time was the occupation of the gal- 

 lant Bowmen and Forresters gay, when the heart expand- 

 ed in the joys of the chase, the limbs grew strong, and 

 the pulse beat high in its exulting clamour; or perchance, 

 its fatigues were forgotten "in the thick embowering 

 shade," telling "the tale" to some "Sylvan Maid," who, 

 "in dear delight" "list'ning," scarce knows that a figu- 

 rative shaft from that sly archer, the son of Cypria's 

 Queen, has pierced the very red of her heart. But oh! 

 these degenerate days, a bare common, the refuge of the 

 sheep-boy and his shorn flock, is the melancholy con- 

 trast, without a vestige of " embowering shade." 



Well, so let it be, there is still enjoyment enough, and 

 more than ordinary in the drawing of the bow, and the 

 twang of the string, when we remember that our embow- 

 ering shade is the west side of the street, five in every 

 seven afternoons, through the broiling summer, and our 

 "jovial, bold, and free," is developed in the right to 

 elbow, wedge, and work our way, at the expense of sun- 

 dry contusions upon our ribs, and a heavy discount for 

 perspiration up to the polls, as we all most feelingly expe- 

 rienced on the second Tuesday last. 



We live now in an age so artificial, that rural sports and 

 the anecdotes of their followers, are listened to as ro- 




162 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



mances of times that are passed; and as for " Sylvan 

 IMaids," "bless you child," as aunty Dina used to say, 

 there has not such a thing been heard of for the three last 

 centuries; and what have we in their place? I would tell if 

 I could: they are ladies, for that is the only polite way of 

 speaking their titles; but as to what they are, their "form 

 andpressure,"thatisahiddenmystery,composed, we timid- 

 ly guess, of puffs, stiffenings, and nameless things, supported 

 on a frame work, that I have been told is real flesh, and 

 all the other matters that constitute the " noblest work," 

 but differing in that inconsiderable item the heart, that 

 obsolete member being, (as the naturalists say,) "wanting 

 in this specimen." I know not, it may be, that my old 

 limbs are gouty, my blood cold, and my temper soured 

 by the cares and anxieties, not to say the ingraiiiude of 

 life, such as I have experienced, but I do not look upon 

 the "gay beings," the bullerfly beauties of the present 

 day, with the same feelings that I once loved so well to 

 indulge. I could tell you, that in bygone youih I wandered 

 where Ihe melody of the brook in broken murmurs stole 

 upon my ear, where the song of the wood robin, in its 

 loveliest wood notes wild, were heard in the mellow twi- 

 light, and the native honeysuckle shed its richestiVagrance 

 round, fanned by the fairy wing of the humming-bird; in 

 that lone place, and in that sweet hour, I heard the gentle 

 breathing of her, who is still so dear to memory, more 

 musical than that soft brook, whose voice was far more 

 melodious than that tuneful bird's whose eyes, in the rap- 

 ture of my gaze, seemed like stars fiom the firmament 

 above us, in their own mild radiance steeped; that hour 

 has passed, those eyes and that sweet voice have returned 

 to the heaven, from whence I thought them, in my fond 

 devotion, stolen; and methinks even at this late day, when 

 ih&fall of life is fast closing upon me, shedding its sere 

 and yellow leaf upon my path, that I still see those eyes 

 in the firmament, and hear that sweet voice in the gentle 

 wind of summer: but no, it is the memory, that busy tat- 

 tler, who, upon the cold and dreary reality of present ex- 

 istence, of'"t intrudes with her phantom smiles, to cheer 

 for a moment, but to leave too soon the same cold surface 

 it had for a moment broken, like the still lake of the 

 woods, whose placid bosom is ruffled for a moment into 

 lights and shadows by the falling of a decayed limb from 

 the enamoured tree that had so long hung over it in fond- 

 ness. 



I have been betrayed by reckless memory into forget- 

 fulness of the business of the hour, and must before I re- 

 sume it, make an apology to the ladies for what has been 

 penned in this, to them, dull scrawl; for some one may 

 perchance, on a rainy day, try to beguile the hour, by 

 looking over the pages of the Cabinet. Now what apology 



can I make? Why truly none, save this: they need not 

 heed me, for I am old, and like the oak upon the hill, my 

 head has been scathed by the lightnings of many storms, 

 my arms like its boughs are withered, and the canker is in 

 my heart. " Logan is the last of his name;" that fragrant 

 rose bush that stood at my side has died in its young love- 

 liness; its pale leaves scented the air at my feet for a few 

 short seasons, and now I am alone. Can we who have 

 lived so Jong, see with eyes that youth and its young hopes 

 tinge all on which they rest with their own celestial azure? 

 No, it is the green of the goggles with which we shade 

 our dull vision, that lends its predominant colouring of 

 yellow melancholy to all that in youthful fancy is so bright 

 and glowing: with this as my apology, let me depart in 

 peace. 



"The merry merry archers" meet often, and well we 

 know the pleasures of the bow, and oft regret that its 

 use is not more general; how many and how agreeable are 

 the topics that it affords for discussion, reflection, arrange- 

 ment and fancy; Jet us begin with the bow, and give you 

 in it, a sample of the variety of matter that it affords for 

 agreeable occupation, even before it is bent. 



" Tell me, S ■ *, what wood is your bow made of? 



"Which do you mean, the body or the back? 



" It's made of two pieces, is it? 



"Yes, the body is Lemon, a fineelastic wood, buttoo brit- 

 tle to bear the strain without a back; this of mine is back- 

 ed with lance wood, the toughness of which prevents the 

 body from breaking, and you see when the bow is un- 

 strung that it has a back-set, which is given it in the 

 making. 



"Is it strong? Let me try it. 



"No, you don't, we never allow a bow to be handled 

 by the uninitiated, for this reason; you see the back-set, 

 and take it for granted, that the proper mode is to bend 

 it in that direction; the effort is made, and in one instant 

 the bow is in two pieces. Your apology is, (after being very 

 sorry and all that,) that you had no idea that it would 

 break so casj^; but I had, and so chose to run no risk. So 

 particular are practised archeis in this i-espect, that a rule 

 is adopted never to draw a bow unless an arrow is nocked. 

 Another reason for care is, that the upper and lower 

 limbs of the bow are of different strength and length, the 

 handle being below the centre, so that the arrow mav be 

 discharged from the middle of the string." 



This conversation is supposed to pass between the adept 

 and the uninitiated; the practised archer inquires of his 

 companion, , 



" What is the strength of your bow? 



"About fifty-fivepounds; I wish it was not quite so strong, 

 for I think I could shoot better if it were weaker, especially 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



at eighty yards distance, for I have always observed, that 

 if the left arm trembles while you are drawing itp, you 

 cannot depend on your shooting. The wind is against 

 us at this target, and I have not yet made sufficient allow- 

 ance for it. 



« Do you draw with two fingers or three? 

 " I pursue a different plan from usual in draiving, using 

 shooting gloves upon the second and third fingers only, 

 and of course drawing principally with those two, and 

 using the first but slightly. I think that the brace being 

 sewed fast to the sleeve is more convenient than the usual 

 method of fastening it with straps and buckles; the trian- 

 gular pocket that we have attaclied to our belts, is an im- 

 provement on the strap and pouch of the English equip- 

 ment, sent to us by Waring of London,* if that equip- 

 ment is the same that is in common use. It may look 

 as if egotism misleads us, but in some of the minor mat- 

 ters of convenience, we think we have made improve- 

 ments; for instance, besides the matters just mentioned, 

 look at the backs of our targets, made of Carolina moss, 

 quilted between strong linen. No arrow has ever passed 

 through, and there is no symptom of wear from use; it 

 appears to me that they will endure as long as our associa- 

 tion, and heaven grant that that may be, until we are as 

 aged as our venerated ancestor of the bow, Sir William 

 Wood, 'who his long life to that alone did owe.' 



" Let me look at your arrows — how well they are made, 

 and how neatly painted ; you have chosen a beautiful colour 

 — light blue; but your mark is not so easily made as 

 mine. An anchor is, however, very appropriate. 



"What do you Ihink the best weight for arrows? 



"About three-fourths of an ounce; (you observe that I 

 have abandoned the old terms of 2 and 4 and 2 and 

 6, because they convey no decided impression to the 

 mind.) I think one ounce too heavy, unless you shoot 

 with a very strong bow, or in windy weather. 



" I was unfortunately absent from the city on the 12th of 

 September, the day of our annual prize shooting, and had 

 no opportunity of hearing the particulars. Will you tell 

 me how you made out? 



" With pleasure, particularly from the circumstance of my 

 having no personal interest in the contest, further than 

 the esprit de corps; that is so remarkable in the members 

 of our club, you may remember, that good luck has been 

 my portion for a prize shooting or two; and as there were 

 several young archers, new associates, who stood in need 



• P. S. We have been much delighted since the above notice was 

 sent to you, by the reception of a fine parcel of bows and arrows from 

 Scotland, being from the celebrated manufactory at Kilvvinen. The 

 bows are of Scotch yew, and the arrows the neatest I have ever seen. 

 Our new members are now elegantly equiped, and we have a spare 

 slock in reserve. 



of encouragement, I determined not to take a part in the 

 competition. Our worthy associate ^ had drawn by lot 

 the duties of captain of the target, at the same time that 

 he took the first chance in the order of shooting. I there- 

 fore volunteered to act as captain and register, and relieve 

 the competitors from all duties save that of making the 

 best display of skill they could. I had a good opportunity 

 of observing the men, and although some of them had 

 been put through the archer's drill, as given in our manual, 

 but a few days in anticipation of this contest, they took 

 their places upon the stand, nocked their arrows, and 

 drew to the ear, with the steadiness of veterans. The 

 time of shooting was two hours, from three to five; and 

 as there were nine persons shooting at one pair of targets, 

 the number of rounds were few; they shot as usual in 

 pairs, in order to save as much time as possible. There 

 were lots of muslin, (as our nicknaming associate, (3 , 

 calls the ladies,) and a high wind, both unfavourable cir- 

 cumstances to composure and good shooting. This gen- 

 tleman, like myself, has seldom had good luck in a 

 contest of this kind, where the excitement usually pro- 

 duces a bad effect upon the nervous system; but notwith- 

 standing these disadvantageous circumstances, he acquitted 

 himself nobly, having fourteen hits, the value of wjiich 

 was 60, two in the gold, one of which was nearest the 

 centre, and would have entitled him to the secondary 

 prize, if he had not gained the first; Q^ therefore took the 

 secondary, a piece of luck that shows the utility of the 

 secondary prize; for the hit nearest the centre, this being 

 the second if not the first time that this gentleman had 

 drawn a bow at the target. 



"The first prize for the value of hits, is inevitably the 

 property of the best archer, provided he can command 

 his nerves, and say, with effect to his heart, ' peace, be 

 still' There is the card, you see that. 



hits, value CO 



" " 31 



« " 53 



" " 16 



" " 5 



" " 47 



" " 15 



" " 29 



" " 19 



No'greatshooting, you will say; granted, but as good as 

 prize shootings usually are: we can tell in looking over 

 our target book, when we have a prize register before 

 us, by the fewness of the hits, except there is this note in 

 the margin, in the angular, or best printing hand, of the 

 Secretary. ' Knocked off on account of rain, time of 

 shooting twenty-five minutes.' " ^ 



October \5lh, 1832. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



RURAL SPORTS, 

 OR RECOLLECTIONS OF A SPORTSMAN.— NO. I. 



"'Tis not that rural sports alone invite, 

 But all the grateful country beams delight ; 

 Here blooming health exerts her gentle reign, 

 And strings the sinews of the industrious swain." 



Rural sports have been admitted in every age. The 

 good, the great and the wise, have in their turn freely en- 

 joyed them, and while those which are gentlemanly and 

 recreative in their tendency are to be desired and cherish- 

 ed, there are others injurious to the morals of a community 

 which are to be deprecated and rejected. Happily, our 

 country does not sanction those sports of cruelty, which, 

 in some countries, are considered national, and the pa- 

 tronage of which very properly illustrates the dispositions 

 of the people who encourage them. 



Without resorting to the combats of wild animals, bull 

 fights, pugilism, &c., nature has abundantly supplied us 

 with other means of enjoyment. Our numerous hills, and 

 almost endless forests; our fertile valleys and extensive 

 plains; our brooks, rivers and sea-side, teem with un- 

 numbered subjects for the hunter, sportsman and angler. 

 But 



" There are who think these pastimes scarce humane. 

 Yet in my mind, (and not relentless I,) 

 His life is pure that wears no fouler stain." 



To these enjoyments the natural feelings of mankind 

 incline. The force of habit and education has no control 

 when the individual is relieved from the restraint of 

 civilized life, and placed in circumstances in which he may 

 exert this principle of nature. That man inclines to the 

 " hunter state," is contended for by many eminent writers, 

 who also labour to prove, that the scattered population of 

 the earth, both of manand beast, has been effected chiefly by 

 this principle. The truth of this position we can in a great 

 measure assent to, from what we constantly see, and what 

 most feel, viz. that there is in our natures an instinctive dis- 

 position towards pastural amusements, that displays its 

 energies in the verj' spring-time of life, as well in chris- 

 tian as in savage infancy; which matures and strengthens 

 with age through successive years, commencing as soon 

 as the infantile mind is alive to the beauties of rural things, 

 and ending only in the days of second childhood. 



My fondness for rural sports was acquired at a very 

 early age, and during that period when the city of Phila- 

 delphia was scourged by the desolating influence of the 

 yellow fever. My parents, like a multitude of other in- 

 habitants, fled the city and located themselves on an an- 



cient, but beautiful and romantic farm, about nine miles 

 distant, where, for the first time in my life, I roam- 

 ed the woods and fields, while all around me appeared 

 strange and invitingly beautiful; and I felt as though I had 

 begun life anew. I had not then reached my seventh year, 

 yet the ever changing varieties which unfolded themselves 

 to my youthful mind, added new energies to a disposition 

 already vivid, and being free from the restraint so neces- 

 sary in a city, I was permitted to wander wherever my 

 disposition led me. It was not long before the variety of 

 pleasures there to be enjoyed, were eagerly sought and 

 entered into with all the animation consequent to a play- 

 ful child. 



The old stone mansion stood on a hill whose base was 

 washed by a beautiful and rapid stream wliich meandered 

 through woods and meadows for many miles, until it 

 finally deposited its troubled waters into the bosom of the 

 Delaware river. This stream gave occasion for me to ex- 

 ercise my first disposition for sportiveness along its fra- 

 grant banks. 



I well remember the first hour when I was led by the 

 parental hand in search of the finny treasure which this 

 creek contained. My father was fond of fishing and gun- 

 ning, although he claimed notthe title of sportsman in either, 

 butit was only when idleness was forced upon him, and the 

 dull monotony of a country life made his hours tedious 

 and insupportable, that he would take the rod or gun, and 

 go in pursuit of fish or fowl. On this first essay my im- 

 plements consisted of a rod cut from an alder bush, a line 

 of homespun thread, a crooked pin for a hook, and a com- 

 mon cork float. Thus equipped, I no doubt felt as satisfied, 

 and anticipated as much enjoyment from the resources 

 before me, as any devout follower of " honest old Isaac," 

 with the most approved and complete apparatus of modern 

 times, and my bosom throbbed with as much intensity of 

 feeling at the " first nibble," as does that of an expe- 

 rienced fisherman when exerting his science to land the 

 "monarch of the brook." Such, reader, may have been 

 your experience; and you will readily forgive any extrava- 

 gance of feeling which a recurrence to those days of child- 

 hood may excite. But I love to dwell on the scenes of 

 boyhood; these were days of comparative innocency, un- 

 mingled with the turmoil and disappointment consequent 

 to human life. Then I wandered unconscious of future 

 trouble in search of pleasure through fields and flowery 

 meadows, and beside that ever murmuring brook — 

 whose waters, every day, I visited, until at length 

 novelty subsided, and fishing gave place to fondness for 

 the gun. 



In those daj-s shooting on the wing was of rare occur- 

 rence, and the individual who could accomplish this, was, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SHORTS. 



in the view of the rustics, considered as a being of supe- 

 rior order; the chief objects of game were rabbits and 

 squirrels; and it was only when the unsuspicious covey of 

 partridges was huddled together from the cold or the in- 

 clemency of a snow storm, beneath a holly bush or group 

 of cedars, that these birds were ever shot, and the slaughter 

 thus eSected was made an occasion for boasting in propor- 

 tion to the number slain at a single shot, which sometimes 

 amounted to ten or fifteen. The guns in use at that period 

 were mostly single-barrelled, and would measure from 

 five to seven feet in length, and were more valued in pro- 

 portion to their length; the settled opinion being, that the 

 longer the gun, the further and more powerful would it 

 throw the shot, and have an established character for be- 

 ing a " good squirrel gun." Other important items to 

 establish in their characters were, that they should be 

 good "turkey guns" — that is, capable of winning at 

 turkey matches. It was a custom then, (and is in a mea- 

 sure followed to this day,) for both old and young men to 

 assemble at the different inns through the country, during 

 the holydays, to shoot at targets for turkeys, geese, and 

 other poultry; consequently, it was all important that the 

 different rivals or competitors should possess good shoot- 

 ing guns; and the most successful at these matches were 

 enhanced in value in proportion to the quantity of fowls 

 won. Some of these guns were of very ancient date, and 

 had in many instances descended from generation to gene- 

 ration for nearly a centur}-; while these old family pieces 

 were regarded as sacred relics of ancestral renown with as 

 much piety and care as if a moral obligation was involved 

 in their good or bad treatment. Not quite such a gun did 

 my father possess, and although not so superannuated, it 

 bore abundant marks of antiquity, and gave good evidence 

 of its capability by dropping squirrels from the tallest 

 hickories. 



To me the sound of a gun was more musical than anj^ 

 thing else, and no weather was too inclement; no hardship 

 too severe, but I would sustain it to follow my father; through 

 sleet and snow, over craggy precipices, intensely suffering 

 from fatigue, cold and laceration from thorns and briars, 

 without a murmuring word or disposition to return home. 

 Attached as I was to a gun, however, and as much as I 

 loved its report, I was still fearful to shoot one; and it was 

 not until a considerable length of time that I could be in- 

 duced to make the attempt. At that time it was more 

 customary among the country folks to "fire away the old 

 year," than at present; and it was on an occasion of this 

 kind, that I, for the first, shot off a gun; this I accom- 

 plished by resting the muzzle on a fence and pulling the 

 trigger; but the moment I fired I relinquished my hold 

 and sprung backwards as from a poisonous reptile, to the 

 Tt 



amusement of many lookers on; whose mirth and teasing 

 on that occasion for ever afterwards prevented a like oc- 

 currence. 



Thus I overcame the first difficulty, and my leisure mo- 

 ments or holydays for some years were always employed 

 with the gun in shooting sparrows, snowbirds and the 

 like; and if by chance I shot a lark or robin, I concluded 

 my enterprise by returning hastily to my home, to pre- 

 sent my trophy as evidence of my proficiency. "But 

 there is a tide in the affairs of men," and so there was in 

 mine, for the funds which I would now and then accumu- 

 late by the pennies given to me by friends and strangers, 

 were insufficient to procure as much powder and shot as 

 my disposition for gunning required, and I had to adopt 

 in lieu thereof other pastimes and amusements. Now, a 

 very favourite sport among my school fellows was that of 

 catching squiriels, that is, the ground and flying squirrels; 

 the former it is well known dwell in burrows or holes 

 under ground, to which they betake themselves when pur- 

 sued by an enemy, and from which it is a difficult matter 

 to dislodge them; boys, however, are never at a loss for 

 stratagem, and the plan we most successfully followed 

 was, by pouring their holes full of water obtained from a 

 neighbouring brook, which would bring forth the tenants 

 generally half drowned, and render them easy objects of 

 capture. The vessels employed usually to effect this were 

 our hats; these we would unhesitatingly dip into the water, 

 and rather suffer the unpleasantness of wet hats to cover 

 our heads, and the risk of flogging from our parents, 

 than forego the satisfaction of catching a single ground 

 squirrel. 



The flying squirrel was captured as efficacious, but with 

 more difficulty. When these are driven from their nests, 

 (which usually are composed of leaves and fixed in the 

 large fork of a tree some height from the ground,) they 

 will immediately ascend to the very topmost branches of 

 the same tree, in order, when danger presses them, to 

 escape by making a descent by flight, as it is called, to the 

 butt of some neighbouring tree. When, therefore, they 

 would reach the extremity of a branch, one of the party 

 would clamber the tree with a long slim pole swung to his 

 wrist, on the end of which was a noose made of horse- 

 hair, and, as this species is less shy and more innocent 

 than most others, they would generally suffer themselves 

 to be appror.ched within ten or twelve feet, and by much 

 care and quietness, the noose could without difficulty be 

 placed over the head of the little victim and thus make it 

 prisoner. In this way we caught many old squirrels, and 

 then by securing the nests, which frequently contained 

 several of their young, it not only was a source of 

 amusement, but profit. Rtjsticus, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



A PENNSYLVANIA HUNTER. 



The settlers in the new countries of the United States 

 frequently met with interesting adventures connected with 

 their woodland life, which, if collected, would form a 

 very amusing volume. 



Mr. Hall, in his "Legends of the West," has com- 

 menced a series of tales to elucidate the manners of the 

 early inhabitants of that part of our country, and, far as he 

 has gone, has, like an accomplished raconteur, perform- 

 ed his task with much taste and talent. The field before 

 him is very extensive, and as his tales are told with great 

 simplicity and beauty, I think his work will become, as it 

 ought to be, very popular. 



The manners of the woodsmen of the northern and 

 southern states differ considerably from each other, de- 

 pending on their previous education and habits. I shall 

 not, however, attempt to draw any comparisons, as they 

 might by some be considered invidious. In the forests of 

 Pennsylvania, since the peace of 17S3, there have been no 

 enemies to encounter worse than bears, wolves and pan- 

 thers: but even these have sometimes led to incidents 

 which gave evidence of a spirit that wanted nothing but 

 excitement and opportunity to rank high in the scale of 

 heroes — from Macedonia's madman, &c. 



Nothing is more true than that we are the creatures of 

 circumstances, and that many a quiet citizen has gone to 

 his grave "unhonoured and unsung," who had, but never 

 suspected that he had within himself qualities, which, in 

 other situations, might have served to " point a moral and 

 adorn a tale." I have known many persons of this kind 

 among our American woodsmen. I will mention one who 

 lives a few miles from me, Jonathan Elsvvorth; I mention 

 his name, but it is not probable that he will ever know 

 that he has got into the Cabinet of Natural History, 

 and if he shall, he will be very much surprised to find 

 himself there. 



The most frequent loss sustained by the new settlers is 

 of their sheep, destroyed by "wild varmints," as they 

 are sometimes called, but of a very different kind from 

 those with which that prince of honest fellows, Dandy 

 Dinmont, was accustomed to " enter" the numerous pro- 

 geny of his far-famed Pepper and Mustard. By the way, 

 I could tell you something about them; hxxirevenons a «"" 

 ynoutons. 



Several sheep had been taken from Jonathan and his 

 neighbours, and having heard something of the circum- 

 stance, I desired him to tell me what had occurred. I 

 should perhaps say, that Jonathan is one of the mildest 

 spoken men that you can find. Look at him, and you 

 would think that the most becoming garment for him 



would be "the drab coat of William Penn." I say this, 

 entertaining much respect for the said coat, especially if it 

 be worn by an honest man, as it always ought to be. 



What is the story of the hunt which you had, Jonathan, 

 after the marauders in your sheep fold? I have heard some- 

 think about it: but tell it yourself. " Why, no great mat- 

 ter," said Jonathan, in his peculiar sleepy tone, " it was 

 not much." Let me hear it, however. "Well, you 

 heard, then, how something came and took our sheep on 

 the North Branch. Nobody could tell what it was; for, 

 you see, we could not find any tracks about, and the sheep 

 were gone; not partly eaten, and the bones left; but all was 

 gone; one one night, and another another night; and so I 

 kind of guessed that it must be some wild animal that had 

 its young in the neighbourhood, and that it took them off 

 to its den. Well, I thought if it held on that way, it 

 would take all the sheep;' and so I thought I would take a 

 hunt; for I guessed that its den could not be far away, 

 whatever it was. But we, none of us, could tell what the 

 nation it could be; for we could not find any tracks. Some 

 guessed it was a bear; and some guessed it was a painter; 

 and some guessed it was a wolf; but I did not think a wolf 

 or painter would carry a sheep off without eating any of it 

 where he caught it; and so I thought it was a bear; for a 

 bear is a very handy fellow with his paws, and it would 

 make you laugh to see one on a chesnut or beech tree, 

 gathering nuts. But I guess you have seen them at it. 

 So, as I thought it was not right for him to take all the 

 sheep, I calculated that I had better take a hunt for him, 

 or her, or all of them, and I started off in the morning, 

 and went first one way, and then another way, where 

 there were some rocks, and where a creature of the kind 

 might harbour; but there was no signs of any thing at any 

 of the places, and I thought I might give it up for a bad 

 job that time; and so I made a turn to go home again. I 

 was going along, thinking of nothing at all, when I came 

 to a great pine tree that had been broken off near the root, 

 and which lay right across the way I was going; and I just 

 thought may be it would be a good shingle tree if it is 

 sound, and I went by the butt like, to look at it: but it was 

 all hollow, and I took notice that there were a sort of 

 tracks, or paths like, all about it, and some bones, and I 

 said, why I should not wonder if the darned thing was in 

 this here tree. I peeped all round, but I could see nothing; 

 and so I stooped down and put my head in the hole, and 

 I heard something scratching and whining, and I said to 

 myself, I vow they are here! And then it just struck me, 

 how shall I get at them? At first I thought that the best 

 way would be to stop up the hole with stones and sticks, 

 till I could go and get an axe, and some of the neighbours 

 to help cut them out. And then I thought if I stop up the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



hole, and one of the old bears is out, ma}'- be before I get 

 back — for it was three miles in the woods from home — it 

 will come and pull away my stopping stuff, and they will 

 all be off before I get back; and then I shall have my hunt 

 for nothing. No, I won't do that, any wa}'. AVellthen, 

 there was but one other way for it, and so, as the tree was 

 very straight, I just levelled my rifle like into the hole, 

 as exactly in a line as I could, according as the tree lay, 

 and I fired away, and then stept back, so as to knock any 

 thing that should come out down with my rifle; and I had 

 the advantage on my side, for only one could come out at a 

 time, if the tree was full of them. But nothing came out. 

 Well, after waiting some time, I poked my head into the 

 tree to listen again, and I heard the same noise of scratch- 

 ing, and another noise, which I was sure was of an animal 

 choking with the blood in his throat; and I thought now 

 its a pity I have not a dog with me; but I had no dog, and 

 so I said I shall have to act dog myself. I had some 

 thought of shooting into the tree again; but it was a pity 

 to waste the lead; for I was sure that the bear, or whatever 

 he was, was choaked already; but then I was not quite 

 sartain sure whether it was the old one, or the young ones, 

 or all of them that were in the tree; and I was in a poker- 

 ish kind of a situation; for may be it was only the young 

 ones, and if I went in, the old one might come in after 

 me. But I thought the tarnal thing should not get off after 

 all; and so I loaded my rifle, and put two balls in it, and 

 when I crept into the tree, I took my knife in my right 

 hand forward, and I pulled my rifle along after me with 

 the other hand, with the muzzle pointing backwards, so 

 that if any one came in after me, I might have a crack at 

 it. Well, when I got into the tree it was quite dark, and 

 I crept, and crept, and crept, till I thought there was 

 almost no end to it; for it was a very great pine, and j'ou 

 know how tall the pines grow near the North Branch. 

 However, at last, when I had got into it, I guess a matter 

 of fifty feet, I put my hand on something hairy, and I 

 found it was a young one. It was dead; I had killed it. 

 And then I had to creep out again, and pull it after me. 

 And so I went in again, and got another dead one. I had 

 killed two. My ball had gone right through one, and 

 into the other. And then I went in again, and again, and 

 again, and so brought out three live ones; and after all 

 they were all young wolves, and no bears at all." 



But, Jonathan, when you crept, and crept, as you say 

 " a matter of fifty feet," pulling your rifle after you, sup- 

 pose they had been bears, as you thought, and one had 

 come in after you, and you had fired away, and shot it 

 dead, and you then in the tree, and three miles from any 

 house, how would you have got out? 



"Sure enough — I never thought of that." R. 



AN EXTRAORDINARY PIKE. 



I saw a very large fish, (sa3's Colonel Thornton,) come 

 at me, and, collecting my line, I felt I had him fairly 

 hooked; but I feared he had run himself tight round some 

 root, his weight seemed so dead; we rowed up, therefore, 

 to the spot, when he soon convinced me he was at liberty, 

 by running me so far into the lake, that I had not one inch 

 of line more to give him. The servants, foreseeing the 

 consequences of my situation, rowed with great expedi- 

 tion towards the fish, which now rose about seventy yards 

 from us, an absolute wonder! I relied on my tackle, which 

 I knew was in every respect excellent, as I had, in conse- 

 quence of the large Pike killed the day before, put on 

 hooks, and gimp, adjusted with great care; a precaution 

 which would have been thought superfluous in London, 

 as it certainly was for most lakes, though here, barely 

 equal to my fish. After playing him for some time, I 

 gave the rod to Captain Waller, that he might have the 

 honour of landing him; fori thought him quite exhausted, 

 when to our surprise, we were again constrained to follow 

 the monster nearly across this great lake, having the wind, 

 too, much against us. The whole party were now in high 

 blood, and the delightful Ville de Paris quite manageable; 

 frequently he flew out of the water to such a height, that 

 though I knew the uncommon strength of my tackic, I 

 dreaded losing such an extraordinary fish, and the anxiety 

 of our little crew was equal to mine. After about an hour 

 and a quarter's play, however, we thought we might 

 safely attempt to land him, which was done in the follow- 

 ing manner: Newmarket, a lad so called from the place 

 of his nativity, who had now come to assist, I ordered, 

 with another servant, to strip and wade in as far as possi- 

 ble; which they readily did. In the mean time I took 

 the landing net, while Captain Waller judiciously ascend- 

 ing the hill above, drew him gently towards us. He ap- 

 proached the shore very quietly, and we thought him 

 quite safe, when, seeing himself surrounded by his ene- 

 mies, he in an instant made a last desperate effort, shot 

 into the deep again, and, in the exertion, threw one of the 

 men on his back. His immense size was now very appa- 

 rent; we proceeded with all due caution, and, being once 

 more drawn towards land, I tried to get his head into the 

 net, upon eflecting which, the servants were ordered to 

 seize his tail, and slide him on shore: I took all imagina- 

 ble pains to accomplish this, but in vain, and I began to 

 think myself strangely awkward, when at length, having 

 got his snout in, I discovered that the hoop of the net, 

 though adapted to very large Pike, would admit no more 

 than that part. He was, however, completely spent, and, 

 in a few moments, we landed him, a perfect monster! He 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



was stabbed by my directions in the spinal marrow, with 

 a large knife, which appeared to he the most humane man- 

 ner of killing him, and I then ordered all the signals, with 

 the sky-scrapers, to be hoisted; and the whoop re-echoed 

 through the whole range of the Grampians. On opening 

 his jaws, to endeavour to take the hooks from him, which 

 were both fast in his gorge, so dreadful a forest of teeth, 

 or tushes, I think I never beheld: if I had not had a double 

 link of gimp with two swivels, the depth between his sto- 

 mach and mouth would have made the former quite use- 

 less. His measurement, accurately taken, was five feet 

 four inches, from eye to fork. 



On examining him attentively, I perceived that a very 

 large bag hung deep below his belly, and, thinking it was 

 lower than usual with other Pike, I concluded that this 

 had been deeply fed but a short time before he was taken. 

 After exhibiting him, therefore, to several gentlemen, I 

 ordered that my housekeeper, on whom I could depend, 

 should have him carefully opened the next day, and the 

 contents of his stomach be reserved for inspection; and 

 now ordering the servants to proceed with their burden, 

 we returned to Avemore, drank tea, and afterwards went 

 on to the Raits, where we produced our monster for in- 

 spection, to the no small gratification of the spectators, 

 whose curiosity had been strongly excited to view a fish 

 of such magnitude. 



Agreeable to the orders of the preceding day, Mrs. C. 

 opened the Pike, and sent to us the contents of his sto- 

 mach, which, to our surprise, consisted of part of another 

 Pike half digested. The tumour, or bag, arose from his 

 having, no doubt many years since, gorged a hook, which 

 seemed to us better calculated for sea than for fresh-water 

 fishing. It was wonderfully honey-combed, but free from 

 rust, so that I cannot doubt of its having been at least ten 

 years in his belly. His head and back bone I ordered to 

 be preserved in the best manner I could devise, and the 

 rest to be salted down. 



The weight of this fish, judging by the trones we had 

 with us, which would only weigh twenty-nine pounds, 

 'made us, according to our best opinions, estimate him at 

 between forty-seven and forty-eight pounds. I had before 

 this seen Pike of thirty-six pounds, and have had them at 

 Thornville of above thirty; but the addition of seventeen 

 pounds and a half made this quite a different fish. There 

 may be larger Pike, but I cannot readily credit the ac- 

 counts of such until I receive more authentic information. 

 This extraordinary fish was taken in Loch Alva, in the 

 Highlands of Scotland. 



[Spoi-fsman's Cyclopedia. 



MANNER OF PRESERVING GAME, BY POISON- 

 ING GROUNDS, AS ADOPTED IN ENGLAND 

 AND IRELAND. 



The best mode for preserving grouse, is by poison, 

 nux vomica, and yellow arsenic, of each, half an ounce, 

 mixed with a quarter of a pound of wheaten flour, and 

 divided into pills of an ounce each. These pills must be 

 dipped in rendered tallow, as candles are, until they have 

 a thick coat of the same, which preserves them, not only 

 from being destroyed by the wet, but it induces the dog to 

 take it; for a dog must be made use of to poach grouse. 

 The poison should be laid round the borders of the pro- 

 perty, and a second line inside of the first, so that if the 

 dogs miss the first, they will by chance take the second; 

 it should be put on a slate, or a small stone should be put 

 under it, or a short stick drove in the ground, with the 

 poison secured to the top of it; but not so as to project 

 over the heath, which should be drawn round it, in order 

 to keep it from the sight of the poacher. In Ireland, this 

 is always practised, and those who value their dogs, never 

 attempt to approach the poisoned grounds; by the law 

 there, it is necessary to give a month's notice in the news- 

 paper, printed in the county wherein the property is, and 

 those who wish to poison, are often debarred the pleasure 

 of shooting on their own mountains for the season; but if 

 the poison is marked as it should be, it can be taken up by 

 the keepers, the day before the owner wishes to shoot, and 

 laid again at night, without the smallest risk, if the 

 keeper is a steady person. 



A gentleman in the west of Ireland, who was remarka- 

 bly tenacious of his game, poisoned his mountains one 

 season, and having it marked, used to have it taken up 

 when he thought proper. Some sportsmen who happen- 

 ed to come on it one day to shoot, had three brace of 

 beautiful setters poisoned : in revenge they made up a couple 

 of thousand pills, and in the night, thickly poisoned all 

 these mountains, unknown to the proprietor, who, on 

 taking up his own poison, and going out to shoot, was 

 greatly surprised to find all his fine dogs dead, in the 

 course of three hours after he began to shoot, never sus- 

 pecting the trap that was laid for him. It is inconceiva- 

 ble to tliink how immediate the death of every dog is after 

 taking this poison; he seldom outlives seven minutes, ex- 

 cept some assistance is given, which a sportsman seldom 

 can come at on a mountain, unless he is aware of poison 

 being laid, and then it is to be hoped, he would not be so 

 imprudent as to risk the life of a valuable dog. 



[Shooiing Directory. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



AMERICAN BUFFALO OR BISON. 

 BOS JlMERICANUS. 



[Plate XV. Vol. 2.] 



Bos America7ius: Gmel. Taurus Mexicanits: Hernand. 

 Alex. 581. Tauri Vaccxque, Ibid. JInim. p. \0. The 

 Buffalo: Catesby, Ccwol. 2S tab. 20. BoeiifSauvage: 

 DuPRATZ, Louisiane, ii. 66. Jimcrican Bull: Penn. 

 Quad. pi. II. Jig. 2. 



From other species of the ox kind, the Bison is well 

 distinguished by the following peculiarities. A long 

 shaggy hair clothes the fore part of the body, forming a 

 well marked beard beneath the lower jaw, and descending 

 behind the knee in a tuft. This hair rises on the top of 

 the head in a dense mass, nearly as high as the extremities 

 of the horns. Over the forehead it is closely curled, and 

 matted so thickly as to deaden the force of a rifle ball, 

 which either rebounds, or lodges in the hair, merely caus- 

 ing the animal to shake his head as he heavily bounds along. 



The head of the Bison is large and ponderous, compared 

 with the size of the body; so that the muscles for its sup- 

 port, necessarily of great size, give great thickness to the 

 neck, and by their origin from the prolonged dorsal ver- 

 tebral processes form the peculiar projection called the 

 humj). This hump is of an oblong form, diminishing in 

 height as it recedes, so as to give considerable obliquity to 

 the line of the back. 



The eye of the Bison is small, black, and brilliant; the 

 horns are black and very thifck near the head, whence they 

 curve upwards and outwards, rapidly tapering towards 

 their points. The outline of the face is somewhat convex- 

 ly curved, and the upper lip, on each side being papillous 

 within, dilates and extends downwards, giving a very ob- 

 lique appearance to the lateral gape of the mouth, in this 

 particular resembling the ancient architectural bas-reliefs 

 representing the heads of oxen. 



The physiognomy of the Bison is menacing and fero- 

 cious, and no one can see this formidable animal in his 

 native wilds, for the first time, without feeling inclined to 

 attend immediately to his personal safety. The summer 

 coat of the Bison differs from his winter dress, rather by 

 ditference of length than by other particulars. In sum- 

 mer, from the shoulders backwards, the hinder parts of 

 the animal are all covered with a very short fine hair, that 

 is as smooth and as soft to the touch as velvet. The tail 

 is quite short and tufted at the end, and its utility as a fly- 

 brush is necessarily very limited. The colour of the hair 

 is uniformly dun, but the long hair on the anterior parts 

 Uu 



of the body is to a certain extent tinged with yellowish 

 or rust colour. These animals, however, present so lit- 

 tle variety in regard to colour, that the natives consider 

 any remarkable difference from the common appearance 

 as resulting from the immediate interference of the Great 

 Spirit. 



Some varieties of colour have been observed, although 

 the instances are rare. A Missouri trader informed the 

 members of Long's exploring party, that he had seen a 

 greyish white Bison and a yearling calf, that was distin- 

 guished by several white spots on the side, a star or blaze 

 in the forehead, and white fore feet. Mr. J. Dougherty, an 

 interpreter to the expedition, saw in an Indian hut a very 

 well prepared Bison bead with a star on the front. This 

 was highly prized by the proprietor, who called it his 

 great medicine, for, said he, " the herds come every 

 season to the vicinity to seek their white-faced compan- 

 ion." 



In appearance the Bison cow bears the same relation to 

 the bull that is borne by the domestic cow to her mate. 

 Her size is much smaller, and she has much less hair on 

 the fore part of her body. The horns of the cow are much 

 less than those of the bull, nor are they so much concealed 

 by the hair. The cow is by no means destitute of beard, 

 but though she possesses this conspicuous appendage, it 

 is quite short when compared witli that of her com- 

 panion. 



From .July to the latter part of December the Bison cow 

 continues fat. Their breeding season begins towards the 

 latter part of July and continues until the beginning of 

 September, and after this rrtonth the cows separate from 

 the bulls in distinct herds and bring forth their calves in 

 April. The calves rarely separate from the mother before 

 they are one year old, and cows are frequently seen ac- 

 companied by calves of three seasons. 



The flesh of the Bison is somewhat coarser in its fibre 

 than that of the domestic ox, yet travellers are unanimous 

 in considering it equally savoury as an article of food; we 

 must, however, receive the opinions of travellers on this 

 subject, with some allowance for their peculiar situations, 

 being frequently at a distance from all other food, and 

 having their relish improved by the best of all possible re- 

 commendations in favour of the present viands — hunger. 

 It is with reason, however, that the flesh is stated to be 

 more agreeably sapid, as the grass upon which these ani- 

 mals feed is short, firm and nutritious, being very diflerent 

 from the luxuriant and less saline grass produced on a more 

 fertile soil. The fat of the Bison is said to be far sweeter 

 and richer, and generally preferable to that of the common 

 ox. The observations made in relation to the Bison's 

 flesh, when compared with the flesh of the domestic ox. 




170 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



may be extended to almost all wild meat, which has a 

 peculiar flavour and raciness tliat renders it decidedly 

 more agreeable than that of tame animals, although the 

 texture of the flesh may be much coarser and the fibre by 

 no means as delicate. 



Of all the parts of the Bison that are eaten, the hump is 

 the most famed for its peculiar richness and delicacy; be- 

 cause when cooked it is said very much to resemble mar- 

 row. The Indian mode of cooking the hump is to cut it 

 out from the vertebrae, after which the spines of bone are 

 taken out, the denuded portion is then covered with skin, 

 which is finally sewed to the skin covering the hump. The 

 hair is then singed and pulled off, and the whole mass is 

 put in a hole dug in the earth for its reception, which has 

 been previously heated by a strong fire in and over it the 

 evening previous to the day on which it is to be eaten. It 

 is then covered with cinders and earth about a foot deep, 

 and a strong fire made over it. By the next day at noon 

 it is fit for use. The tongues and marrow bones are also 

 highly esteemed by the hunters. To preserve the flesh 

 for future use the hunters and Indians cut it into thin slices 

 and dry it in the open air, which is csAled jerking; this 

 process is speedily finished, and a large stock of meat may 

 thus be kept for a considerable length of time. 



From the dried flesh of the Bison the fur traders of the 

 north-west prepare a food which is very valuable on ac- 

 count of the tin^.e it maybe preserved without spoiling, 

 though it will not appear very alluring to those who re- 

 side where provisions are obtained without difficulty. The 

 dried Bison's flesh is placed on skins and pounded with 

 stones until sufficiently pulverized. It is then separated 

 as much as possible from impurities, and one-third of its 

 weight of the melted tallow of the animal is poured over 

 it. This substance is called pemmican, and being packed 

 firmly in bags of skin of a convenient size for transporta- 

 tion, may be kept for one year without much difficulty, 

 and with great care, perhaps two years. 



During the months of August and September the flesh 

 of the Bison bull is poor and disagreeably flavoured; they 

 are, however, much more easily killed, as they are not so 

 vigilant as the cows, and sometimes allow the hunter to 

 come up with them without much difficulty. Lewis & 

 Clarke relate that once approacliing a large herd, the 

 bulls would scarcely move out of their way, and as they 

 came near, the animals would merely look at them for a 

 moment, as at something new, and then quietly resume 

 their grazing. 



The general appearance of the Bison is by no means at- 

 tractive or prepossessing, his huge and shapeless form be- 

 ing altogether devoid of grace and beauty. His gait is 

 awkward and cumbrous, although his great strength en- 



ables him to run with very considerable speed over plains 

 in summer, or in winter to plunge expeditiously through 

 the snow. 



The sense of smelling is remarkably acute in this ani- 

 mal, and it is remarked by hunters that the odour of the 

 white man is far more terrifying to them than that of the 

 Indian. From the neighbourhood of white settlements 

 they speedily disappear: this, however, is very justly 

 accounted for by Mr. Say, who attributes it to the im- 

 politic and exterminating warfare, which the white man 

 wages against all unsubdued animals within his reach. 



As an exemplification of the peculiar strength of their 

 sense of smelling, we may here relate a circumstance men- 

 tioned by Mr. Say, in that valuable and highly interest- 

 ing work. Long's Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, to 

 which we are under continual obligations. These we are 

 the more happy to acknowledge, because we are well ac- 

 quainted with the solicitude of the gentlemen composing 

 that expedition, to diffuse, as widely as possible, the know- 

 ledge of American Natural History. 



The exploring party were riding through a dreary and 

 uninteresting country, which at that time was enlivened 

 by vast numbers of Bisons, who were moving in count- 

 less thousands in every direction. As the wind was blow- 

 ing fresh from the south, the scent of the party was wafted 

 directly across the river Platte, and through a distance of 

 eight or ten miles, every step of its progress was distinctly 

 marked by the terror and consternation it produced 

 among the Bisons. The instant their atmosphere was in- 

 fected by the tainted gale, they ran as violently as if close- 

 ly pursued by mounted hunters, and instead of fleeing 

 from the danger, they turned their heads towards the wind, 

 eager to escape this terrifying odour. They dashed ob- 

 liquely forward towards the part)', and, plunging into the 

 river, swam, waded, and ran with headlong violence, in 

 several instances breaking through the Expedition's line 

 of march, which was immediately along the left branch of 

 the Platte. One of the party, (Mr. Say himself,) per- 

 ceiving from the direction taken by the bull who led the 

 extended column, that he would emerge from the low 

 river bottom at a point where the precipitous bank was 

 deeply worn by much travelling, urged his horse rapidly 

 forward, that he might reach this station in order to gain 

 a nearer view of these interesting animals. Heliadjust 

 reached the spot when the formidable leader, bounding up 

 the steep, gained the summit of the bank with his fore 

 feet, and in this position, suddenly halted from his full 

 career, and fiercely glared at the horse which stood full 

 in his path. The horse was panic-struck by this sudden 

 apparition, trembled violently from fear, and would have 

 wheeled and taken to flight, had not his rider exerted his 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



utmost strength to restrain him; he recoiled, however, 

 a few feet and sunk down upon his hams. The Bison halt- 

 ed for a moment, but urged forward by the irresistible 

 pressure of the moving column behind, he rushed onward 

 by the half-sitting liorse. The herd then came swiftly 

 on, crowding up the narrow defile. The party had 

 now reached the spot, and extended along a considerable 

 distance; the Bisons ran in a confused manner, in various 

 directions, to gain the distant bluffs, and numbers were 

 compelled to pass through the line of march. This scene, 

 added to the plunging and roaring of those who were yet 

 crossing the river, produced a grand effect, that was 

 heightened by the fire opened on them by the hunters. 



To the Indians and visitors of the western regions the 

 Bison is almost invaluable; we have mentioned that they 

 supply a large part of the food used by the natives, and 

 covering to their tents and persons, while in many parts 

 of the country there is no fuel to be obtained but the dried 

 dung of this animal. The Indians always associate ideas 

 of enjoyment with plenty of Bison, and they frequently 

 constitute the skull ofone of them, their "GreatMedicine." 

 They have dances and ceremonies that are observed pre- 

 vious to the commencement of their hunting. 



The herds of Bison wander over the country in search 

 of food, usually led by a bull most remarkable for strength 

 and fierceness. While feeding, they are often scattered 

 over a great extent of country, but when they move in 

 mass they form a dense almost impenetrable column, 

 which, once in motion, is scarcely to be impeded. Their 

 line of march is seldom interrupted even by considerable 

 rivers, across which they swim without fear or hesitation, 

 nearly in the order that they traverse the plains. When fly- 

 ing before their pursuers, it would be in vain for the fore- 

 most to halt, or attempt to obstruct the pi-ogress of the 

 main body, as the throng in the rear still rushing onward, 

 the leaders must advance, although destruction awaits the 

 movement. The Indians take advantage of this circum- 

 stance to destroy great quantities of this favourite game, 

 and, certainly, no mode could be resorted to more effec- 

 tually destructive, nor could a more terrible devastation 

 be produced, than that of forcing a numerous herd of these 

 large animals, to leap together from the brink of a dread- 

 ful precipice, upon a rocky and broken surface, a hundred 

 feet below. 



When the Indians determine to destroy Bison in this 

 way, one of their swiftest footed and most active young 

 men is selected, who is disguised in a Bison skin, having 

 the head, ears, and horns adjusted on his own head, so as 

 to make the deception very complete, and thus accoutred, 

 he stations himself between the Bison herd and some of 

 the precipices, that often extend for several miles along 



the rivers. The Indians surround Ihe herd as nearly as 

 possible, when, at a given signal, they show themselves 

 and rush forward with loud yells. The animals being 

 alarmed, and seeing no way open but in the direction of 

 the disguised Indian, run towards him, and lie, taking to 

 flight, dashes on to the precipice, where he suddenly se- 

 cures himself in some previously ascertained crevice. The 

 foremost of the herd arrives at the brink — there is no pos- 

 sibility of retreat, no chance of escape; the foremost may 

 for an instant shrink with terror, but the crowd behind, 

 who arc terrified by the approaching hunters, rush for- 

 ward with increasing impetuosity, and the aggregated force 

 hurls them successively into the gulf, where certain death 

 awaits them. 



It is extremely fortunate that this sanguinary and waste- 

 ful method of killing Bisons is not very frequently re- 

 sorted to by the savages, or we might expect these ani- 

 mals in a few years to become almost entirely extinct. 

 The waste is not the only unpleasant circumstance conse- 

 quent on it; the air for a long time after, is filled with 

 the horrible stench arising from the putrifying carcases 

 not consumed by the Indians after such an extensive and 

 indiscriminate slaughter. For a very considerable time 

 after such an event, the wolves and vultures feast sumptu- 

 ously and fatten to tameness on the disgusting remains, 

 becoming so gentle and fearless, as to allow themselves 

 to be approached by the human species, and even to be 

 knocked down with a stick, near places where such sacri- 

 fices of Bison have been made. Lewis & Clarke bestowed 

 the name of Slaughter River on one of the ti-ibutaries of 

 the Mississippi, in consequence of the precipices along its 

 sides having been used by the Indians for this mode of 

 killing the Bison. 



A better and more common way of killing Bison is that 

 of attacking them on horseback. The Indians, mounted 

 and well armed with bows and arrows, encircle the herd 

 and gradually drive them into a situation favourable to the 

 employment of the horse. They then ride in and single 

 out one, generally a female, and following her as closely 

 as possible, wound her with arrows until the n ortal blow 

 is given, when they go in pursuit of others until their 

 quivers are exhausted. Should a wounded Bison attack 

 the hunter, he escapes by the agility of his horse, which 

 is usually well trained for the purpose. In some parts of 

 the country, the hunter is exposed to a considerable danger 

 of falling, in consequence of the numerous holes made in 

 the plains by the badger. 



When the liunting is ended and a sufficiency of game 

 killed, the squaws come up from the rear to skin and dress 

 the meat, a business in which they have acquired a great 

 degree of dexterity, as they can, with very inferior i»- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



struments, butcher a Bison with far more celerity and 

 precision than tlie white hunters. 



If a Bison is found dead, without an arrow in the bod}', 

 or any particular mark attached, it becomes the property 

 of the finder, so that a hunter may expend his arrows to 

 no purpose when they fall off, after wounding or fairly 

 perforating the animal. That the Indians do frequently 

 send their arrows through the body of this animal is well 

 attested by a great number of witnesses. In Long's ex- 

 pedition to the sources of St. Peter's River, it is related 

 thatWahnita, a distinguished chief of the Sioux, has been 

 seen to drive his arrow through the body of one Bison, 

 and sufficiently deep into the body of a second to inflict a 

 deadly wound. 



\Vhen the ice is breaking up on the rivers in the spring 

 of the year, the dry grass of the surrounding plains is set 

 on fire, and the Bison are tempted to cross the river in 

 search of the young grass that immediately succeeds the 

 burning of the old. In the attempt to cross, the Bison is 

 often insulated on a large cake of ice that floats down the 

 I river. The savages select the most favourable points for 

 attack, and as the Bison approaches, the Indians leap with 

 wonderful agility over the frozen ice, to attack him, and 

 as the animal is necessarily unsteady, and his footing very 

 insecure on the ice, he soon receives his death wound and 

 is drawn triumphantly to the shore. 



The Cree Indians make a Bison-pound, by fencing a 

 circular space of about a hundred yards in diameter. The 

 entrance is banked up with snow sufficiently high to pre- 

 vent the animals from retreating after they have once en- 

 tered. For about a mile on each side of the road leading 

 to the pound, stakes are driven into the ground at nearly 

 equal distances of about twenty yards, which are intended 

 to look like men, and to deter the animals from endea- 

 vouring to break through the fence. Within fifty or sixty 

 yards of the pound, branches of trees are placed between 

 the stakes to screen the Indians who lie down behind them, to 

 waitfortheapproach of theBison. Themountedhuntersdis- 

 play the greatest dexterity in this sort of chase, as they are 

 obliged tomanoever around the herd in the plains so as to urge 

 them into the road-way, which is about a quarter of a mile 

 broad. When this is effected, the Indians raise loud 

 shouts, and pressing closely on the animals, terrify them 

 so much, that they rush heedlessly forward towards the 

 snare. When they have advanced as far as the men who 

 are lying in ambush, they also show themselves, increas- 

 ing the consternation of the Bison by shouting violently 

 and firing their guns. The affrighted animals have no 

 alternative but to rush directly into the pound, where they 

 are quickly despatched by guns or arrows. In the centre 

 of one of these pounds, there was a tree on which the 



Indians had hung strips of Bison flesh and pieces of cloth, 

 as tributary or grateful offerings to the Great Master of 

 life. They occasionally place a man in the tree to sing to 

 the presiding spirit as the Bisons advance. He is obliged 

 to remain there until all the animals that have entered the 

 pound are killed. 



The Omawhaw Indians hunt the Bison in the following 

 manner. The hunters who are in advance of the main 

 body on the march, employ telegraphic signals from an 

 elevated position, to convey a knowledge of their disco- 

 veries to the people. If they see Bisons, they throw up 

 their robes in a peculiar manner as a signal for a halt. The 

 hunters then return as speedily as possible to camp, and 

 are received with some ceremony on their approach. The 

 chiefs and magicians are seated in front of the people, puff- 

 ing smoke from their pipes, and thanking the Master of 

 life with such expressions as "thanks. Master of life, thank 

 you ISIaster of life, here is smoke, I am poor, hungry, and 

 want to eat." The hunters then draw near the chiefs and 

 magicians, and in a low tone of voice inform them of their 

 discovery: when questioned as to the number, they reply 

 by holding up some small sticks in a horizontal direction, 

 and compare one herd at a certain distance with this stick, 

 and another with that, &c. 



An old man or crier then harangues the people, inform- 

 ing them of the company, exhorting the women to keep a 

 good heart, telling them that they have endured many 

 hardships with fortitude, and that their present difficulties 

 are ended, as on the morrow the men will go in pursuit of 

 the Bisons and bring them certainly a plenty of meat. 



Four or five resolute warriors are appointed at the coun- 

 cil of chiefs, held the evening previous, to preserve order 

 among the hunters on the following day. It is their busi- 

 ness, with a whip or club, to punish those who misbehave 

 on the spot, or whose movements tend to frighten the 

 game before all are ready, or previously to their arrival at 

 the place whence they are to sally forth. 



The next morning all the men, not superannuated, de- 

 part at an early hour, generally mounted and armed with 

 bows and arrows. The superintendants or officers above 

 mentioned accompany the swiftly moving cavalcade, on 

 foot, armed with war clubs, the whole preceded by a foot- 

 man bearing a pipe. When they come in sight of the 

 herd the hunters talk kindly to their horses, using the en- 

 dearing names of father, brother, uncle, &c., beggingthem 

 not to fear the Bisons, but to run well and keep close, 

 taking care at the same time not to be gored by them. 



Having approached the herd as closely as they suppose 

 the animal will permit without alarm, they halt, that the 

 pipe bearer may perform the ceremony of smoking, which 

 is thought necessary to success. The pipe is lighted, and 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



173 



he remains a short time with his head inclined, and the 

 stem of the pipe extended towards the herd. He then 

 puffs the smoke towards the Bisons, the heavens, the 

 earth, and the cardinal points successively. These latter 

 are distinguished by the terms sun-rise, sun-set, cold 

 country, and warm country. 



This ceremony ended, the chief gives the order for start- 

 ing. They imm.cdiately separate into two bands, which, 

 wheeling to the right and left, make a considerable circuit 

 with a view to enclose the herd at a considerable interval 

 between them. They then close upon the animals, and 

 every man endeavours to signalize himself by the number 

 he can kill. 



It is now that the Indian exhibits all his skill in horse- 

 manship and archer}', and when the horse is going at full 

 speed, the arrow is sent with a deadly aim and great ve- 

 locity into the body of the animal behind the shoulder, 

 where, should it not bury itself to a sufficient depth, he 

 rides up and withdraws it from the side of the wounded 

 and furious animal. He judges by the direction and depth 

 of the wound, whether it be mortal, and when the deadly 

 blow is inflicted, he raises a triumphant shout to prevent 

 others from engaging in the pursuit, and dashes off to seek 

 new objects for destruction, until his quiver is exhausted 

 or the game has fled too far. 



Althougli there is an appearance of much confusion in 

 this engagement, and the same animal receives many ar- 

 rows from different archers before he is mortally wounded 

 or despatched, yet as every man knows his own arrow?, 

 and can estimate the consequences of the wounds he has 

 inflicted, few quarrels ever occur as to the right of pro- 

 perty in the animal. A fleet horse, well trained, runs 

 parallel with the Bison at the proper distance, with the 

 reigns thrown on his neck, turns as he turns, and does 

 not lessen his speed until the shoulder of the animal is pre- 

 sented, and the mortal wound has been given; then by in- 

 clining to one side the rider directs him towards another 

 Bison. Such horses are preserved exclusively for the 

 chase, and are very rarely subjected to the labour of carry- 

 ing burdens. 



The eflect of training, on the Indian horses, is well 

 shown in a circumstance related by Lewis and Clarke. A 

 sergeant had been sent forward with a number of horses, 

 and while on his way, came up with a herd of Bisons. 

 As soon as the loose horses discovered the herd, they im- 

 mediately set off in pursuit, and surrounded the Bisons 

 with almost as much skill as if they had been directed by 

 riders. At length the sergeant was obliged to send two 

 men forward to drive the Bisons from the route before 

 tliey were able to proceed. 



The skins of the Bison furnish the Indians and whites 

 Xx 



with excellent robes for bedding, clothing, and various 

 purposes. Tliese are most usually the skin of cows, as 

 the hide of the bull is too thick and heavy to be prepared 

 in the way practised by the squaws, which is both difficult 

 and tedious. This consists in working the hide, moisten- 

 ed with the brains of the animal, between the hands, until 

 it is made perfectly supple, or till the thick texture of the 

 skin is reduced to a porous and cellular substance. These 

 robes form an excellent protection from rain, when the 

 woolly side is opposed to it, and against the cold when 

 the woolly surface is worn next to the skin. But when 

 these robes are wet, or for a considerable time exposed to 

 moisture, they are apt to spoil and become unpleasant, as 

 the Indian mode of dressing has no other effect than to 

 give a softness and a pliancy to the leather. On these robes 

 the Indians frequently make drawings of their great bat- 

 tles and victories; a great variet}' of such painted robes are 

 to be seen in the Philadelphia Museum. The hair of the 

 Bison has been used in the manufacture of coarse cloth, 

 but this fabric has never been extensively employed. 



We have already adverted to the great numbers of these 

 animals which live together. They have been seen in 

 herds of three, four, and five thousand, blackening the 

 plains as far as the eye could view. Some travellers are 

 of opinion that they have seen as many as eight or ten 

 thousand in the same herd, but this is merely a conjec- 

 ture. At night it is impossible for persons to sleep near 

 them who are unaccustomed to their noise, which, from 

 the incessant lowing and roaring of the bulls, is said 

 very much to resemble distant thunder. Although fre- 

 quent battles take place between the bulls, as among do- 

 mestic cattle, the habits of the Bison are peaceful and in- 

 offensive, seldom or never offering to attack man or other 

 animals, unless outraged in the first instance. They some- 

 times, when wounded, turn on the aggressor, but it is only 

 in the rutting season that any danger is to be apprehended 

 from the ferocity and strength of the Bison bull. At all 

 other times, whether wounded or not, their efforts are ex- 

 clusively directed towards effecting their escape from their 

 pursuers, and at this time it does not appear that their rage 

 is provoked particularly by an attack on themselves, but 

 their unusual intrepidity is indiscriminately directed against 

 all suspicious objects. 



We shall conclude this account of Bison, b}^ intro- 

 ducing the remarks of John E. Callioun, Esq., relative 

 to the extent of country over which this animal formerly 

 roved and which it at present inhabits. 



The Buffalo was formerly found throughout the whole 

 territory of the United States, with the exception of that 

 part which lies east of Hudson's River and Lake Cham- 

 plain, and of narrow strips of coast on the Atlantic and 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



the Gulf of Mexico. These were swampy and had pro- 

 bably low thick woods. That it did not exist on the At- 

 lantic coast is Tended probable, from the circumstance that 

 all the early writers whom Mr. Calhoun has consulted on 

 the subject, and they are numerous, do not mention them 

 as existing then, but further back. Thomas JMorton, one 

 of the first settlers in New England, says, that the Indians 

 " have also made description of great herds of well growne 

 beasts, that live about the parts of this lake," Erocoise, 

 now Lake Ontario, "such as the christian world, (untile 

 this discovery,) hath not bin made acquainted with. These 

 beasts are of the bignesse of a cowc, their flesh being very 

 good foode, their hides good lether, their fleeces very use- 

 ful, being a kind of vvolle, as fine almost as the wolle of 

 the beaver, and the salvages do make garments thereof;" 

 he adds, " it is tenne yeares since first the relation of these 

 things came to the eares of the English." We have intro- 

 duced this quotation, partly with a view to show that the 

 fineness of the Buflalo wool, which has caused it v^'ithin a 

 few years to become an object of commerce, was known 

 as far back as Morton's time; he compares it with that of 

 the beaver, and with some truth; wc were shown lower 

 down on Red River, hats that appeared to be of a very 

 good quality; they had been made in London with the 

 wool of the Bufia'o. An acquaintance on the part of 

 Europeans with the animal itself, can be referred to nearly 

 a century before that: for in 1532, Guzman met with Buf- 

 falo in the province of Cinaloa. De Laet says, upon the 

 authority of Gomara, when speaking of theBufi'alo in Qui- 

 vira, that they are almost black, and seldom diversified 

 with white spots. In his history written subsequently to 

 1684, Huljbard does not enumerate this animal among 

 those of New England. Purchas informs us, thatin 1613 

 the adventurers discovered in Virginia, "a slow kinde of 

 cattell as bigge as kine, which were good meate." From 

 Lawson, we find that great plenty of BuQ'aloes, elks, &c., 

 existed near Cape Fear river and its tributaries; and we 

 know that some of those who first settled the Abbeville 

 district in South Carolina, in 1756, found the Buffalo 

 there. De Soto's party, who traversed East Florida, 

 Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas Territory, and 

 Louisiana, from 1539 to 1543, saw no BuSalo, they were 

 told that the animal was north of them; however, they 

 frequently met with Buffalo hides, particularly when west 

 of the Mississippi; and Du Pratz, who published in 1758, 

 informs us that at that time the animal did not exist in 

 lower Louisiana. We know however of one author, Ber- 

 nard Romans, wlio wrote in 1774, and who speaks of the 

 Buffalo as a benefit of nature bestowed upon Florida. 

 There can be no doubt that the animal approached tlie 

 Oulf of Mexico, near the Bay of Si. Bernard; for Alvar 



Nunez, about the year 1535, saw them not far from the 

 coast; and Joater, one hundred and fifty years afterwards, 

 saw them at the Bay of St. Bernard. It is probable that 

 this Bay is the lowest point of latitude at which this ani- 

 mal has been found east of the Rocky Mountains. There 

 can be no doubt of their existence west of those moun- 

 tains, though Father Venegas does not include them among 

 the animals of California, and although they were not seen 

 west of the mountains by Lewis and Clarke, nor mention- 

 ed by Harmon and Mackenzie as existing in New Caledo- 

 nia, a country of immense extent, which is included be- 

 tween the Pacific Ocean, the Rocky Mountains, the terri- 

 tory of the United States, and the Russian possessions, on 

 the north-west coast of America. Yet their existence at 

 present on the Columbia, appears to be well ascertained, 

 and wc are told that ther^jsa tradition among the natives, 

 that shortly before the visit of our enterprising explorers, 

 destructive fires had raged over the prairies and driven the 

 Buffalo east of the mountains. Mr. Dougherty, the ver}- 

 able and intelligent sub-agent, who accompanied the ex- 

 pedition to the Rocky Mountains, and who communicated 

 so much valuable matter to Mr. Say, asserted that he had 

 seen a few of them in the mountains, but not west of them. 

 It is highly probable that the Buffalo ranged on the western 

 side of the Rocky Mountains, to as low a latitude as on the 

 eartern side. De Laet says, on the authority of Henern, 

 that they grazed as far south as the banks of the river Ya- 

 quimi. In the same chapter this author states, tliat Mar- 

 tin Perez had, in 1591, estimated the province of Cinaloa, 

 in which this river runs, to be three hundred leagues from 

 the city of Mexico. This river is supposed to be the 

 same, which, on Mr. Tanner's map of North America, 

 (Philadelphia, 1822,) is named Hiaqui, and situated be- 

 tween the 27th and 2Sth degrees of north latitude. Perhaps, 

 however, it may be tlie Rio Gila which empties itself in 

 latitude 32°. Although we may not be able to determine 

 with precision the southern limit of the roamings of the 

 Buffalo west of the mountains, the fact of their existence 

 there in great abundance, is amply settled by the testimony 

 of De Laet, on the authority of Gomara, 1. 6, c. 17, and 

 of Purchas, p. 778. Its limits to the north are not easier 

 to determine. In Hakluyts' collection we have an ex- 

 tract of a letter from Mr. Anthonie Parkhurst, in 1578, 

 in which he uses these words: in the Island of Newfound- 

 land there "arc mightie beastcs, like to camels in grcat- 

 nesse, and their fcetc cloven. I did see them farrc ofl', 

 not able to discerne them perfectly, but their steps shewed 

 that their feete were cloven and bigger than the feete of 

 camels. I suppose them to be a kind of buffes, which I 

 rend to bee in the country's adjacent and vcrj' many in 

 the firmc laud." In the same collection^ p. 689^ we find. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



175 



in the account of Sir Humphrey Gilbert's voyages, which 

 commenced in 15S3, that there are said to be in New- 

 foundland, " buttolfles, or a beast, it seemeth by the tract 

 and foote, very large in the manner of an oxe." It may, 

 however, be questioned whether these were not musk 

 oxen, instead of the common Buffalo or Bison of our prai- 

 ries. We have no authority of any weight, which war- 

 rants us in admitting that the Buffalo existed north of 

 Lakes Ontario, Erie, &c., and east of Lake Superior. 

 From what we know of the country between Nelson's 

 River, Hudson's Ba}', and the lower lakes, including New 

 South Wales and Upper Canada, we are inclined to believe 

 that the Buffalo never abounded there, if indeed any were 

 ever found north of tlie lakes. But west of Lake Winne- 

 peck, we know that they are found as far north as the 

 PZd degree of north latitude. €|^||tain Franklin's party kill- 

 ed one on Salt River, about the 60th degree. Probably 

 tlieyarefoundall overthe prairies whichare boundedonthe 

 north by a line commencing at the point at which the 62d 

 dpg!-ee meets the base of the Rocky Mountains, and run- 

 ning in a southeasterly direction, to the southern ex- 

 tremity of Lake Winnepeck, which is but very little 

 north of the 50th degree; on the Sardatchawan, Buffalo 

 are ver}^ abundant. It may be proper to mention here, 

 l!iat the small white Buffalo, of which Mackenzie makes 

 frequent mention, on the authorit}' of the Indians, who 

 told him that they lived in the mountains, is probably not 

 the Bison; for Lewis and Clarke inform us, that the In- 

 dians designated by that name the mountain sheep. It is 

 probable that west of the Rocky Mountains the Buffalo 

 does not extend far north of the Columbia. At present 

 it is scarcely seen east of the Mississippi, and south of the 

 St. Lawrence. Governor Cass's party found in 1819 

 jJuffaio on the east side of the Mississippi, above the falls 

 of St. Anthony: every year this animal's rovings are re- 

 stricted. In 1822, the limit of its wanderings down the 

 St. Peter, was Great Swan Lake, (near Camp Crescent.) 



PIKE. 



In the whole of the Pike tribe, the head is somewhat 

 flat, and the upper jaw shorter than the other. The gill- 

 membrane has from seven to twelve i-ays. The body is 

 long, slender, compressed at the sides, and covered with 

 hard scales. The dorsal fin is situated near the tail, and 

 generally opposite to the anal fin. 



These fish are found in considerable plenty in most of the 

 Jakes in Euroj)c, Lapland, America, and thsnortherjo parts of 



Persia, where they sometimes measure upwards of eight 

 feet in length. 



There is scarcely any fish of its size in the world that 

 in voracity can equal the Pike. One of them has been 

 known to choak itself in attempting to swallow another of 

 its own species that proved too large a morsel: and it has 

 been well authenticated, that, in the Marquis of Stafford's 

 canal at Trentham, a Pike seized the head of a swan as she 

 was feeding under water, and gorged so much of it as kill- 

 ed them both. 



"I have been assured, (says Walton,) by my friend, 

 Mr. Seagrave, who keeps tame otters, that he has known 

 a Pike, in extreme hunger, fight with one of his otters for 

 a carp that the otter had caught, and was then bringing 

 out of the water." 



Boulker, in his Art of Angling, says, that his father 

 caught a Pike that was an ell long, and weighed thirty- 

 five pounds, which he presented to Lord Cholmondelej'. 

 His Lordship directed it to be put into a canal in his gar- 

 den, which at that time contained a great quantity offish. 

 Twelve months afterwards the water was drawn off, and 

 it was discovered that the Pike had devoured all the fish 

 except a single large carp, that weighed between nine and 

 ten pounds; and even this had been bitten in several places. 

 The Pike was again put in, and an entire fresh stock of 

 fish for him to feed on; all these he devoured in less than 

 a year. Several times he was observed by workmen, who 

 were standing near, to draw ducks and other water-fowl 

 under water. Crows were shot and thrown in, which he 

 took in the presence of the men. From this time the 

 slaughter-men had orders to feed him with the garbage of 

 the slaughter-house; but being afterwards neglected, he 

 died, as it is supposed, from want of food. 



The largest Pike that is supposed to have been ever 

 seen, was one caught on the draining of a pool at Lillis- 

 hall lime-works, near Newport, that had not been fish- 

 ed in the memory of man: it weighed above 170 pounds. 



If the accounts of different writers on the subject are to 

 be credited, the longevity of the Pike is very remarkable. 

 Gesner goes so far as to mention a Pike whose age was as- 

 certained to be 267 years. 



Pike spawn in March or April. When they are in high 

 season, their colours are very fine, being green, spotted 

 with bright yellow, and having the gills of a most vivid 

 red. When out of season, the green changes to grey, and 

 the yellow spots become pale. The teeth are very sharp, 

 and are disposed in the upper jaw, on both sides of the 

 lower, on the roof of the mouth, and often on the tongue. 

 They arc altogether solitary fish, never congregating like 

 some of the otlier tribes. 



Ireland is remarkable for abundance of Pike, and for 




176 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



the size to which they arrive in its waters; in the river 

 Shannon and in Lough Corrib they have been found nearly 

 seventy pounds weight. 



Small fish »how a similar uneasiness at the presence of 

 the Pike, as the little birds do at the sight of the hawk or 

 owl; and when they lie dormant near the surface, (as they 

 frequently do in sultry weather,) the lesser fish swim 

 around in vast numbers, and with evident anxiety. Pike 

 are often taken in the hottest part of the days in summer, 

 while they are thus asleep, by a noose of wire, fixed to a 

 strong pole about four yards long; by which the wire with 

 great slowness is conducted over the Pike's head and gill 

 fins, and then hoisted with a jerk to land. 



Pike are also frequently shot while thus basking them- 

 selves: the marksman aims directly under them: from the 

 deception there is in the water, and its causing the shot to 

 rise much when fired into, he would otherwise miss his 

 object. 



Pike love a still, shady, unfrequented water, with a 

 sandy, clayey, or chalky bottom, (arriving at a larger size 

 in pools than rivers,) and from May to the beginning of 

 October, they usually place themselves amongst or near 

 flags, bulrushes, and water-docks, and particularly under 

 the ranunculus aquaticus when in flower, and which floats 

 on the surface; they will sometimes be found in the ter- 

 mination of sharp currents: from March to the end of 

 May they resort to back waters that have direct commu- 

 nication with the main stream: as winter approaches they 

 retire into the deeps, tnider clay banks, bushes impend- 

 ing over the water, stumps and roots of trees, piles of 

 bridges, and flood-gates. They spawn in March or April, 

 according to the coldness or warmth of the weather, quit- 

 ting the rivers for the creeks and ditches communicating 

 with them, and there dropping their ova in the grass and 

 reeds; in ppads they choose the weeds upon the shallows 

 for deposit^ it; ducks and other wild fowl eagerly de- 

 vour the spawn, and by them it is transported to other 

 waters. The appearance of the Pike in ponds, where 

 none were ever put, has been deemed as extraordinary as 

 its asserted longevity; it is, however, easily accounted for, 

 upon the well-known principles of the generation of fishes: 

 if a heron has devoured their ova, and afterwards ejected 

 them, while feeding in one of these ponds, it is highly 

 probable that they may be produced from this original, in 

 the same way as the seeds of plants are known to be dis- 

 seminated. .; 



Pike are in season from May to February, (the female 

 fish are to be pieferred;) are bold biters, afford the a^igler 

 good sport, and may be fished for all the year; but the 

 best months, (especially for trolling,) are February, be- 

 fore the weeds shoot, and October, when they are rotted ; 



the latter is to be preferred, as the Pike are fattened by 

 their feed during the summer, and from the lowness of 

 the waters, their harbours are easily discovered. 



For trolling, the rod should be twelve or fourteen feet 

 long; but a strong top for this fishing, with a ring at the 

 end for the line to run through, may be fitted to a fly or 

 general rod; there should be one ring upon each joint to 

 conduct the line, which is better than a greater number, 

 (and these rings must be set on straight, that it may run 

 freely, so that no sudden check after the bait is taken pre- 

 vent the Pike from gorging it:) the line should be of silk, 

 with a swivel at the end to receive the armed wire or 

 gimp, and at least thirty yards long, wound upon a winch 

 or reel, fixed to the butt end of the rod, hooks for trol- 

 ling, called dead gorges, and other sorts for trolling, snap, 

 and trimmer, and fishin]||^eedles, are to be bought at 

 every shop where fishing-tackle is sold; in the choice of 

 the first, let them not be too large, nor their temper in- 

 jured by the lead on the shanks, nor the points stand too 

 proud; and, although usually sold on wire, it is recom- 

 mended to cut ofi" the wire about an inch from the lead, 

 and with double silk, well waxed, fasten about a foot of 

 good gimp to the wire, with a noose at the other end of 

 the gimp, large enough to admit the bait to pass through, 

 to hang it upon the line. The best baits are gudgeons or 

 dace, of a middling size; put the baiting-needle in at the 

 mouth, and out at the middle of the tail, drawing the 

 gimp and hook after it, fixing the point of the hook near 

 the eye of the fish; tie the tail to the gimp, which will 

 not only keep it in a proper position, but prevent the tail 

 from catching against weeds and roots in the water: thus 

 baited, the hook is to be fastened to the line, and dropt 

 gently in the water, near the sides of the river, across the 

 water, or where it is likely Pike resort; keep the bait in 

 constant motion, sometimes letting it sink near the bot- 

 tom, and gradually raising it; the angler need not make 

 more than two or three trials in a place, for if a Pike be 

 there, he will within that time bite, if he means to do so; 

 when the bait is taken, if at a depth too great to see, it 

 will easily be ascertained by the line being drawn tight, 

 and by some resistance: let the Pike have what line he 

 chooses, it will be soon known when he has reached his 

 harbour by his not drawing more; allow from five to ten 

 minutes for his gorging the bait; jj'ind up the line gently 

 until the Pike is seen, (which he will permit, though he 

 lias not gorged:) should the bait be across his mouth, give 

 more time; but if he has swallowed, manage him with a 

 gentle hand, keeping him, however, from roots and stumps, 

 which he will try to fasten the line upon; in clear water 

 veer out line until he is sufliciently tired, and a landing 

 net can be used; but by no means, however apparently 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



exhausted, attempt to lift him out with the rod and line 

 only; for the moment he quits the water, he will open his 

 mouth, and from his own weight, tear the hook from his 

 stomach; and the fish will be lost to the angler, although 

 it must inevitably perish. 



In trolling, the bait should never be thrown too far: in 

 small rivers the opposite bank may be fished with ease, 

 and the violence of its fall upon the water, in extensive 

 throws, soon spoils the bait, by rubbing off its scales, and 

 alarms the Pike, instead of enticing him. 



The bead hook is used by putting the lead into the 

 mouth of the live bait and sewing it up; the fish will live 

 some time, and, notwithstanding the lead, will swim with 

 the support he receives from the line, with nearly the 

 same ease as if at liberty: this is the most successful way 

 of tempting the Pike. ^^ ' 



Pike are to be allured by aHffge bait, but a small one is 

 more certain to take tliem: never sufier weeds to hang 

 upon the hook or bait when recast into the water, and 

 which cannot touch the jurface too softly. Always prefer 

 a rough wind, and wlxeh the stream is clear for trolling: 

 Pike never bite in white water after rain, &c. If a Pike 

 goes slowly up the stream after taking the bait, it is said 

 to be a signal of a good fish. 



The nest Pike in size to the foregoing, taken by the 

 troll, was in December, 1792, by Mr. Bint, in the pool 

 at Packinton, (the Earl of Aylesford's,) being from eye to 

 fork two feet eleven, full length three feet ten and a half; 

 circumference one foot ten inches, and weighed thirty- 

 four pounds and three-quarters. 



In 1S04 a Pike was taken out of the same water, with 

 a carp, that weighed ten pounds, stuck in his throat, and 

 which had choked him. The Pike when empty was thirty 

 pounds weight. 



Mr. Wilson caught a Pike by trolling in the Driffield 

 Canal, nearBrigham, which weighed twenty-eight pounds, 

 measured two feet round the belly, and three feet five 

 inches in length; and what was singular, five pounds of 

 solid fat were taken out of his inside. 



Sir Cecil Wray's Pike, caught in June, 1799, at the 

 draining off the water from the lake at his seat at Sum- 

 mer Castle, in Lincolnshire, weighed forty-seven pounds 

 gross, thirty-six pounds, after being cleaned, of eatable 

 meat; was forty -eight and a half inches long, and two feet 

 two inches in circumfei%nce: this fish must have got into 

 the lake wljen irtvy small, and had acquired this enor- 

 mous size in twenty-two years; for at that time the lake 

 was laid dry. Sir Cecil computes that he consumed three 

 fish per diem, progressively larger as his own size in- 

 creased, and that he at least destroyed 24,000; all of which, 

 in the latter years of his growth, must have been valuable 

 Yt 



fish; so that the cost of his support exceeded, by some 

 hundred times, his own value. A river Pike grows fast 

 until he arrives at twenty -four inches; he then ceases to 

 extend so rapidly in length; (for, in good water, with 

 plenty of feed, a Pike spawned in March, will, by the 

 March following, be grown from sixteen to eighteen inches,) 

 and proportionably thickens; afterwards he will be much 

 longer arriving at his full bigness, (which is about forty- 

 six inches) from the length of thirty, than he was in ac- 

 quiring the first thirty inches. 



In JNIay, 1706, Mr. Bishop of Godstow, between Weir 

 and Wy tham Brook, landed the largest Pike ever remem- 

 bered to be taken in the Isis; it was four feet two inches 

 long, two feet ten in girth, and, after being disgorged of 

 a barbel nearly six, and a chub upwards of three pounds, 

 weighed thirty-one pounds and a half. 



In June, 1796, a male Pike was caught in Exton Park 

 pond, (Lord Gainsborough's,) the length forty-two and a 

 half from eye to fork, and from nose to tail forty-nine 

 inches; the girth twenty-eight inches, and weighed thirty- 

 seven pounds and a quarter. Neither this, nor the 

 fish taken in the Isis, was so well grown as Sir Cecil 

 Wray's. 



In 1797, a Pike, weighing near forty pounds, and mea- 

 suring in length three feet six, and in girth two feet, was 

 caught in a pond at Totteridge, in Hertfordshire; a tench 

 of four pounds, and four pounds and a half of solid fat, were 

 taken from his inside. 



In ]\Iunden Hall Fleet, a Pike was found that had been 

 killed by a very long frost; in its putrid state it weighed 

 forty-two pounds, but had wasted considerably; was three 

 feet six incheslong, and two feet nine inches in girth; the teeth 

 were nearly as long, though not so stout, as those of a 

 greyhound: the head of this fish was dried with the skin 

 on, and long preserved at the hall as a great curiosity, not 

 only on account of its immense size, but froma peculiarity 

 in the lower jaw, which had bristles like those growing 

 on the breast of a turkeycock, proceeding from the under 

 part of it. This head was given to the Rev. Mr. Kay, of 

 South Bemfleet, in Essex, by Mr. Lugar; and from Mr. 

 K.'s house some friendly collector of natural curiosities 

 took the opportunity of marching off with it, during a 

 very severe illness with which that gentleman was afflict- 

 ed in the year 1792. 



In some places Pike are taken by what is termed dip- 

 ping; the hook used is a large sized gorge hook, very 

 slightly leaded on the shank, and baited as in trolling, 

 only the mouth of the fish is to be sewed up, and the back 

 fin cut away, and then looped to the swivel; the line is 

 let out from the reel to a convenient length, and the bait 

 is dropped in any small openings where the water is not 




178 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



veiy deep, and overspread with docks and weeds. The 

 fish hanging with his head downwards, will, when gently 

 moved, (and all baits, especially dead ones, should be kept 

 in constant motion,) shoot and play about among the weeds 

 so naturally, that the Pike will be eager in taking it this 

 way, even from the surface: when the bait is seized, the 

 line is to be slackened, and the Pike allowed like to run; 

 in a short time it will be perceived to shake, which is a 

 signal to strike; when hooked, he must be cautiously 

 managed, winding up the line gradually: in getting the 

 Pike through the weeds, endeavour to keep his nose 

 above them, and use the landing-net in taking him from 

 the water. In this method the baits must be as fresh as 

 possible. 



For snap-fishing, (which is best used in March, the 

 Pike being then very shy of gorging, although with seem- 

 ing eagerness they seize the bait,) should the rod be pur- 

 posely made for it, the length should be about twelve 

 feet; if a common rod is employed, the top should be 

 stouter than that used in trolling, with a strong loop to 

 fasten the line upon, which must be a foot shorter than 

 the rod : for the live snap, no hook is so proper as the 

 double spring hook: to bait it, nothing more is requisite 

 than to hang the fish to the small hook under the back 

 fin, which may be done with so little hurt to the fish that 

 it will live for many hours. Gudgeons, (which, in all 

 modes of Pike-fishing, are superior to any other,) and 

 dace are the best baits; they must be kept alive in a tin 

 kettle, with hoks in the lid, and which in hot weather 

 should be placed in the water. 



The other live snap-hook is baited by the small hook 

 being thrust through the fish beneath the back fin; and some 

 use a piece of silk or thread doubled, hung on the point 

 of the small hook, and brought under the belly of the bait, 

 and tied on the other side to the shanks of the large hooks; 

 care and expedition are required in doing this, otherwise 

 the bait will be so injured as to be incapable of swimming 

 briskly in the water: a cork float, the size of a common 

 burgamot pear, with a small pistol bullet or two, not only 

 to poise, but to keep the bait at a proper depth, which is 

 from two to three feet. If a Pike be near where the bait 

 is put in, it will come to the surface, or increase the quick- 

 ness of its motion to avoid him; these signs will put the 

 angler on his guard: when the float is drawn under, allow 

 it to be sunk considerably before striking, which, in all 

 snap-fishing should be with a smart stroke, and directly 

 contrary to the course the Pike appears to take; the line 

 must be kept tight, and the landing-net should be used, 

 as the throwing out a large Pike by force will certainly 

 strain the sockets of the rod. 



Some use only one large long-shanked hook, whipped 



to gimp, with a swivel at the upper end; the hook baited 

 with a gudgeon under the back fin, or through the upper 

 lip, with a float as above, that will swim the gudgeon; fish 

 at mid-water, and allow a minute after the float is sunk 

 before striking: by this method perch may be taken, if the 

 bait be a minnow or very small gudgeon. 



A variety of hooks are used for the dead snap; and this 

 mode of catching Pike is well adapted to both shallow and 

 deep waters, to the still rapid parts of the river, will take 

 Pike at all seasons of the year, supposing the water and 

 weather favourable; and it will be no trifling recommen- 

 dation that the idea of cruelty, which the use of a live fish 

 naturally impresses, is, by this substitute, completely re- 

 moved. The rod should be longer than that for trolling; 

 the line fine, strong, and twent)- yards in length; the hook 

 by some most preferred is^ke that for a common live snap; 

 the length of the gimp, oh'^hich the hook is tied, should be 

 regulated by the size of the bait, and should be rather 

 longer than the distance from the back fin to the mouth; 

 that the looped end may be hung on a strong swivel, tied 

 neatly to about a foot more of gimp, with a noose at the 

 other end, to hang it upon the line, fastening a piece of 

 lead, of the shape of a barley-corn, and weighing about 

 an ounce, with a hole through it, about two inches above 

 the swivel. The bait should be a middle sized dace: in- 

 sert the baiting needle close behind the back fin, letting 

 it come out of the mouth; draw the gimp to which the 

 hook is tied after it; the short hook must stand with the 

 point upright behind the back fin; the others will conse- 

 quently be on each side; then hang it upon the swivel, 

 and try if it will spin: if it does not, move the bait a little 

 to the right or left, which may be done without moving 

 it from the hook: the whole success depends on its quick 

 turning when drawn against the stream; and when it does, 

 it appears like a fish unable to escape, and becomes too 

 tempting a morsel for the Pike to resist: this method will 

 not only enable the angler to fish a greater extent of water 

 than the others, but is more certain to secure the Pike. The 

 large ones, though bold in seizing the bait, are very cau- 

 tious in gorging it: most trollers have experienced, that, 

 after running out a considerable length of line, the bait 

 has been mumbled to pieces and deserted; a disappoint- 

 ment here remedied, for a Pike has but to seize the bait, 

 and he is caught. 



At both troll and snap, some ^rsons have two or more 

 swivels to their line; by which means its twisting is pre- 

 vented, the bait plays more freely, and to the dead bait 

 in rivers it certainly is an improvement: in ponds or still 

 waters one will answer the purpose. 



Another way of taking the Pike is with an artificial fly : 

 many have asserted that they are not to be caught at all with a 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



179 



fly; but, as a convincing proof to the contrary, a Pike 

 the largest taken by a line, or perhaps ever known in this 

 country, was cauglit in Lock Ken, near New Galloway, 

 in Scotland, with a common fly, made of the peacock 

 feather; it weighed seventy-two pounds; the skeleton of 

 the head is at Kenmore Castle; the jaw at the top is that 

 of a Pike, weighing twenty-five pounds: a scale is annex- 

 ed by which the respective proportions of the two may 

 be ascertained, and which will convey some idea of the 

 largest Pike ever seen in Great Britain. 



The Pike fly must be made upon a double hook, fasten- 

 ed to a good link of gimp, and composed of very gaudy 

 materials; such as pheasant's, peacock's, or mallard's fea- 

 thers; the brown and softest part of bear's fur; the red- 

 dish part of that of a squirrel, with some yellow mohair 

 for the body. The head is fp^ed of a little fur, some 

 gold twist, and two small black or blue beads for the eye; 

 the body must be framed rough, full, and round; the 

 wings not parted, but to stand upright on the back, and 

 some smaller feathers continued thence all down the back, 

 to the end of the tail; so that, when finished, they may 

 be left a little longer than the hook, and the whole to be 

 about the size of a wren. A fly thus made will often take 

 Pike, when other baits are of no avail, especially in dark 

 windy da3-s; the fly must be moved quick when in the 

 water, and kept on the surface if possible. Several sorts 

 of these flies are to be had at all the fishing-tackle shops. 



Pike are also taken with a live bait, fixed to a certain 

 place, termed a ledger bait: if a fish is to be used, the 

 hook is to be run through the upper lip or back fin; if a 

 frog, (of which the yellowest are the best,) the arming 

 wire is to be put in at the mouth, and out at the gill, and 

 tie the leg above the upper joint to the wire; fasten the 

 wire to a strong line, about twelve or fourteen yards long; 

 the other end being made fast to a stake or stump of a tree, 

 a forked stick is to be placed near the surface, through 

 which the line is to pass, and suspend the bait about a 

 yard in the water, by a notch made in the fork; but which, 

 when the bait is taken, will easily slip out; but the best 

 way is to have a wheel, or an iron spindle, to stick into 

 the ground. 



Huxing Pike is, with large bladders, blown up and tied 

 close; at the mouth of each fasten a line, (longer or shorter 

 according to the water's depth,) with an armed hook 

 baited; launch them with the advantage of the wind to 

 move up and down the pool: a boat will be necessary in 

 this diversion. 



Huxing Pike is also done by fixing an armed hook bait- 

 ed, at such a length as to swim about mid-water, to the 

 leg of a goose or duck, and then driving the birds into 

 the water. It was thus formerly practised in the Loch of 



Monteith, in Scotland, which abounds with very large 

 perch and pike. " Upon these islands a number of geese 

 were collected by the farmers, who occupied the surround- 

 ing banks of the loch: after baited lines of two or three 

 feet long had been tied to the legs of their geese, they 

 were driven into the water; steering naturally homewards, 

 in diflerent directions, the baits were soon swallowed: a 

 violent and often tedious struggle ensued; in which, how- 

 ever, the geese at length prevailed, though they were fre- 

 quently much exhausted before they reached the shore." 

 Tliis method has not been so long relinquished, but there 

 are old persons upon the spot who were active promoters 

 of the amusement. 



Trimmers of two sorts may be described; the one is 

 made of flat cork, or any light wood, painted, to be seven 

 or eight inches diameter, turned round with a groove in 

 the edge, large enough to receive a fine whipcord or silk 

 line, twelve or fourteen yards, or at least five yards longer 

 than the depth of the water: a small peg, two inches long, 

 is fixed in the centre, with the end slit; and a small double 

 hook fixed to a brass wire link is to be used. Insert the 

 baiting needle under the side fin of the bait, (for which 

 large gudgeons are superior to all otiiers,) and keep it just 

 within the skin of the side; bring it out beyond the back 

 fin, drawing the wire after it, and the hook, when drawn 

 home, will be partly covered by the side fin. This me- 

 thod, performed carefully, will preserve the fish alive for 

 many hours longer than any other; one end of the line is 

 of course fixed to the cork, the other to the loop in the 

 wire; the line is then slightly put into the slit of the peg, 

 to keep the bait at a proper depth, (from three to four 

 feet, which is more likely to attract the Pike's notice 

 than if laid deejoer, or nearer the surface,) and to prevent 

 its untwisting the line out of the groove. The trimmer 

 should always be started on the windward side of the pond, 

 and the rougher the water the better sport; if not seiz- 

 ed in one trip, it must be taken up and re-started from the 

 windward side again. 



The other trimmers are also of cork, and are to be bait- 

 ed and used as above; their form is adapted to go easily 

 through weeds when taken by the Pike; after the line is 

 run off, they will follow in the shape of a wedge, and 

 will not long be kept from appearing on the surface in the 

 weediest places: a hole is burnt through one corner of the 

 cork, by which, with a cord, it may be made stationary 

 to the side of any water; and which method is sometimes 

 preferred where a boat cannot be readily commanded. No 

 species of fishing does more execution than this: in windy 

 weather, at all seasons of the year, and both day and night, 

 the trimmer presents itself as to the most deadly foe the 

 Pike can encounter. 




ISO 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



Pike, in clear watei' and a gentle gale, from the middle 

 of summer to the latter end of autumn, bite best about 

 three in the afternoon; in the winter, during the whole 

 day; and in the spring, most eagerly in the morn, and late 

 at eve. — Sportsman's Cyclopedia. 



THE LEECH, 



From its uses in medicine, is one of those insects that 

 man has taken care to propagate; but, of a great variety, 

 one kind only is considered as serviceable. The Horse 

 Leech, which is the largest of all, and grows to four 

 inches in length, with a glossy black surface, is of no use, 

 as it will not stick to the skin ; the Snail Leech is but 

 an inch in length; and though it will stick, is not large 

 enough to extract a sufficient quantity of blood from the 

 patient; the Broad-tailed Leech, which grows to an 

 inch and a half in length, with the back raised into a sort 

 of a ridge, will stick but on very few occasions; it is the 

 large Brown Leech with a whitish belly, that is made 

 use of in medicine, and whose history best merits our 

 curiosity. 



The Leech has the general figure of a worm, and is 

 about as long as one's middle finger. Its skin is com- 

 posed of rings, by means of which it is possessed of its 

 agility, and swims in water. It contracts itself when out 

 of water, in such a manner, that, when touched, it is not 

 above an inch long. It has a small head, and a black skin, 

 edged with a yellow line on each side, with some yellow- 

 ish spots on the back. The belly, also, which is of a red- 

 dish colour, is marked with whitish yellow spots. But 

 the most remarkable part of this animal is the mouth, 

 which is composed of two lips, that take whatever form 

 the insect finds convenient. When at rest, the opening 

 is usually triangular; and within it are placed three very 

 sharp teeth, capable of piercing not only the human skin, 

 but also that of a horse or an ox. Still deeper in the head 

 is discovered the tongue, which is composed of a strong 

 fleshy substance, and which serves to assist the animal in 

 sucking, when it has inflicted its triple wound; for no 

 sooner is this voracious creature applied to the skin, than 

 it buries its teeth therein, then closes its lips round the 

 wound which it has made; and thus, in the manner of a 

 cupping-glass, extracts the blood as it flows to the different 

 orifices. 



In examining this animal's form farther towards the 

 tail, it is seen to have a gullet, and an intestinal canal, 

 into which the blood flows in great abundance. On each 



side of this are seen running along several little bladders, 

 which, when the animal is empty, seem to be filled with 

 nothing but water; but when it is gorging blood, they 

 seem to communicate with the intestines, and receive a 

 large portion of the blood which flows into the body. If 

 these bladders should be considered as so many stomachs, 

 then every Leech will be found to have twenty-four. 

 But what is most extraordinary of all in this animal's for- 

 mation is, that, though it takes so large a quantity of food, 

 it has no anus or passage to eject it from the bod}^ when 

 it has been digested. On the contrary, the blood which 

 the Leech has thus sucked remains for several months 

 clotted within its body, blackened a little by the change, 

 but no way putrefied, and very little altered in its texture 

 or consistence. In what manner it passes through the 

 animal's body, or how it contributes to its nourishment, is 

 not easily accounted for. The water in which they are 

 kept is very little discoloured by their continuance; they 

 cannot be supposed to return the blood by the same pas- 

 sage through which it was taken in; it only remains, 

 therefore, that it goes off through the pores of the body, 

 and that these are sufficiently large to permit its exclu- 

 sion. 



But it is not in this instance alone that the Leech dif- 

 fers from all other insects. It was remarked in a former 

 section, that the whole insect tribe had the opening into 

 their lungs placed in their sides; and that they breathed 

 through those apertures as otheranimals through the mouth. 

 A drop of oil poured on the sides of a wasp, a bee, or a 

 worm, would quickly suflbcate them, by stopping up the 

 passages through which they breathe; but it is otherwise 

 with the Leech, for this animal may be immersed in oil 

 without injury; nay, it will live therein; and the only 

 damage it will sustain is, that when taken out, it will be 

 seen to cast a fine pellucid skin, exactly of the shape of 

 the animal, after which it is as alert and vigorous as be- 

 fore. It appears from this, that the Leech breathes through 

 the mouth; and, in fact, it has a motion that seems to re- 

 semble the act of respiration in more perfect animals; but 

 concerning all this we are very much in the dark. 



This Leech is viviparous, and produces its young one 

 after the other, to the number of forty or fifty at a birth. 

 It is probable, that, like the snail, each insect contains the 

 two sexes, and that it impregnates, and is impregnated, 

 in the same manner. The young ones are chiefly found 

 in the month of July, in shallow running waters, and par- 

 ticularly where they are tepified by the rays of the sun. 

 The large ones arc chiefly sought after; and, being put 

 into a glass vessel filled with water, they remain for 

 months, nay, for years, without taking any other subsist- 

 ence. But they never breed in this confinement; and con- 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



ISl 



sequently, what regards that part of their history still re- 

 mains obscure. 



In America and the east they are found from six to 

 seven inches in length. Their pools there abound with 

 them in such numbers, that it would be dangerous bathing 

 there, if from no other consideration. Even in some 

 parts of Europe they increase so as to become formidable. 

 Sedelius, a German physician, relates, that a girl of nine 

 years old, who was keeping sheep near the cityof Bomst, 

 in Poland, perceiving a soldier making up to her, went to 

 hide herself in a neighbouring marsh, among some bushes; 

 but the number of Leeches was so great in that place, and 

 they stuck to her so close, that the poor creature expired 

 from the quantity of blood which she lost by their united 

 efforts. Nor is this much to be wondered at, since one of 

 these insects of a large size, will draw about an ounce of 

 blood. 



When Leeches are to be applied, the best way is to take 

 them from the water in which they are contained, about 

 an hour before, for they thus become more voracious, and 

 fasten more readily. When saturated with blood, they 

 generally fall off of themselves; but if it be thought ne- 

 cessary to take them from the wound, care should be used 

 to pull them very gently, or even to sprinkle them with 

 salt, if they continue to adhere; for if they be plucked 

 rudely away, it most frequently happens that they leave 

 their teeth in the wound, which makes a very trouble- 

 some inflammation, and is often attended with danger. 

 If they be slow in fixing to the part, they are often en- 

 ticed by rubbing it with milk, or blood, or water mixed 

 with sugar. As salt is poison to most insects, many people 

 throw it upon the Leech when it has dropped from the 

 wound, which causes it to disgorge the blood it has swal- 

 lowed, and it is then kept for repeated application. They 

 seldom, however, stick after this operation; and, as the 

 price is but small, fresh Leeches should always be applied 

 whenever such an application is thought necessary. 



BtlFFON. 



FLICKER, 

 OR GOLDEN-WINGED WOODPECKER. 



PICUS AUR^TUS. 



[Plate XVI. Vol. 2. on a branch of Sour Gum.] 



Le Pic mix ailcs dories, Burrox, vii. 39. PL Enl. 

 693. — Picus auratus, Linn. Syst. 174. — Cuculus 

 alis de auratis,YiiuE.i^, p. 30. — Catesbt, i. IS. — La- 

 Zz 



THAM, II. 597. — Bartram, jO. 289. — Cuculus auratus, 

 Linn. Syst. ed. 10, 1, 112. — Gmel. Syst. i. 430. — 

 Lath. Ind. Orn. p. 242. — Picus Canadensis striatus, 

 Briss. IV. 72. — Penn. ,/irct. Zool. No. 158.^J. Dough- 

 ty's Collection. 



This elegant bird is well known to our farmers and ju- 

 nior sportsmen, who take every opportunity of destroy- 

 ing him; the former for the supposed trespasses he com- 

 mits on their Indian corn, or the trifle he will bring in 

 market, and the latter for the mere pleasure of destruc- 

 tion, and perhaps for the flavour of his flesh, which is in 

 general esteem. In the State of Pennsylvania he can 

 scarcely be called a bird of passage, as even in severe 

 winters they may be found within a few miles of the city 

 of Philadelphia; and I have known them exposed for sale 

 in market every week during the months of November, 

 December, and January, and that too in more than com- 

 monly rigorous weather. They, no doubt, partially mi- 

 grate, even here; being much more numerous in spring 

 and fall than in winter. Early in the month of April 

 they begin to prepare their nest, which is built in the 

 hollow body or branch of a tree, sometimes, though not 

 always, at a considerable height from the ground; for I 

 have frequently known them fix on the trunk of an old 

 apple tree, at not more than six feet from the root. The 

 sagacity of this bird in discovering, under a sound bark, 

 a hollow limb or trunk of a tree, and its perseverance in 

 perforating it for the purpose of incubation, are truly sur- 

 prising; the male and female alternately relieving and en- 

 couraging each other by mutual caresses, renewing their 

 labours for several days, till the object is attained, and 

 the place rendered sufKciently capacious, convenient and 

 secure. At this employment they are so extremely intent, 

 that they may be heard till a very late hour in the even- 

 ing, thumping like carpenters. I have seen an instance 

 where they had dug first five inches straight forwards, 

 and then downwards more than twice that distance, through 

 a solid black oak. They carry in no materials for their 

 nest, the soft chips, and dust of the wood, serving for 

 this purpose. The female lays six white eggs, almost 

 transparent. The young early leave the nest, and, climb- 

 ing to the higher branches, are there fed by their pa- 

 rents. 



The food of this bird varies with the season. As the 

 common cherries, bird-cherries, and berries of the sour 

 gum, successively ripen, he regales plentifully on them, 

 particularly on the latter; but the chief food of this spe- 

 cies, or that which is most usually found in his stomach, 

 is wood-lice, and the young and larvae of ants, of which 

 he is so immoderately fond, that I have frequently found 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



his stomach distended with a mass of these, and these only, 

 as large nearly as a plum. For the procuring of these in- 

 sects, nature has remarkably fitted him. The bills of 

 Woodpeckers, in general, are straight, grooved or chan- 

 nelled, wedge-shaped, and compressed to a thin edge at 

 the end, that they may the easier penetrate the hardest 

 wood; that of the Golden-winged Woodpecker is long, 

 slightly bent, ridged only on the top, and tapering almost 

 to a point, yet still retaining a little of the wedge form 

 there. Both, however, are admirably adapted to the pe- 

 culiar manner each has of procuring its food. The for- 

 mer, like a powerful wedge, to penetrate the dead and de- 

 caying branches, after worms and insects; the latter, like 

 a long and sharp pick-axe, to dig up tlie hillocks of pis- 

 mires, that inhabit old stumps in prodigious multitudes. 

 These beneficial services would entitle him to some re- 

 gard from the husbandman, were he not accused, and 

 perhaps not without just cause, of being too partial to the 

 Indian corn, when in that state which, is usually called 

 roasting-eaj'S. His visits are indeed rather frequent 

 about this time; and the farmer, suspecting what is going 

 on, steals through among the rows with his gun, bent on 

 vengeance, and forgetful of the benevolent sentiment of 

 the poet; — that 



<" , Just as wide of justice he must fall 



Who thinks all made for One, not one for all." 



But farmers, in general, are not much versed in poetry, 

 and pretty well acquainted with the value of corn, from 

 the hard labour requisite in raising it. 



In rambling through the woods one day, I happened to 

 shoot at one of these birds, and wounded him slightly in 

 the wing. Finding him in full featlier, and seemingly 

 but little hurt, I took him home, and put him into a large 

 cao-e, made of willows, intending to keep him in my own 

 room, that we might become better acquainted. As soon 

 as he found himself inclosed on all sides, he lost no time 

 in idle fluttering, but throwing himself against the bars of 

 the cao-e, began instantly to demolish the willows, batter- 

 ing them with great vehemence, and uttering a loud pite- 

 ous kind of cackling, similar to that of a hen when she is 

 alarmed, and takes to wing. Poor Baron Trenck never 

 laboured with more eager diligence at the walls of his 

 prison, than this son of the forest in his exertions for 

 liberty; and he exercised his powerful bill with such force, 

 digging into the sticks, seizing and shaking them so from 

 side to side, that he soon opened for himself a passage; 

 and though I repeatedly repaired the breach, and barri- 

 cadoed every opening in the best manner I could, yet on 

 my return into the room, I always found him at large, 



climbing up the chairs, or running about the floor, where, 

 from the dexterity of his motions, moving backwards, 

 forwards, and sideways, with the same facility, it became 

 difficult to get hold of him again. Having placed him in 

 a strong wire cage, he seemed to give up all hopes of 

 making his escape, and soon became very tame; fed on 

 young ears of Indian corn; refused apples, but ate the 

 berries of the sour gum greedily, small winter grapes, and 

 several other kinds of berries; exercised himself frequent- 

 ly in climbing, or rather hopping perpendicularly along 

 the sides of tiie cage; and as evening drew on, fixed him- 

 self in a high hanging or perpendicular position, and slept 

 with his head in his wing. As soon as dawn appeared, 

 even before it was light enough to perceive him distinct- 

 ly across the room, he descended to the bottom of the 

 cage, and began his attack on the ears of Indian corn, rap- 

 ping so loud as to be heard -from every room in the house. 

 After this he would sometimes resume his former position, 

 and take another nap. He was beginning to become very 

 amusing, and even sociable, when, after a lapse of several 

 weeks, he became drooping, and died, as I conceived, from 

 the effects of his wound. 



Some European naturalists, (and among the rest Lin- 

 naeus himself, in his tenth edition of the Systema Natura;,) 

 have classed this bird with the genus Cuculus, or Cuckoo, 

 informing their readers that it possesses many of the habits 

 of the Cuckoo; that it is almost always on the ground; is 

 never seen to climb trees like the other Woodpeckers, and 

 that its bill is altogether unlike theirs; every one of which 

 assertions I must say is incorrect, and could have only 

 proceeded from an entire unacquaintance with the manners 

 of the bird. Except in the article of the bill, and that, as 

 has been before observed, is still a little wedge-formed at 

 the point, it differs in no one characteristic from the rest 

 of its genus. Its nostrils are covered with tufts of recum- 

 bent hairs or small feathers; its tongue is round, worm- 

 shaped, flattened towards the tip, pointed, and furnished 

 with minute barbs; it is also long, missile, and can be in- 

 stantaneously protruded to an uncommon distance. The 

 OS hyoides, or internal parts of the tongue, like those of 

 its tribe, is a substance for strength and elasticit}', resem- 

 bling whalebone, divided into two brandies, each the thick- 

 ness of a knitting-needle, that pass, one on each side of 

 the neck, to the hind-head, where they unite, and run up 

 along the scull in a groove, covered with a thin mem- 

 brane or sheath; descend into the upper mandible by the 

 right side of the right nostril, and reach to within half an 

 inch of the point of the bill, to which they are attached 

 by another extremely elastic membrane, that yields when 

 the tongue is thrown out, and contracts as it is retracted. 

 In the other Woodpeckers we behold the same apparatus, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



differing a little in different species. In some these carti- 

 laginous substances reach only to the top of the cranium; 

 in others they reach to the nostril; and in one species 

 they are wound round the bone of the right eye, which 

 projects considerably more than the left for its accommo- 

 dation. 



The tongue of the Golden-winged Woodpecker, like 

 the others, is also supplied with a viscid fluid, secreted by 

 two glands, that lie under the ear on each side, and are at 

 least five times larger in this species than in any other of 

 its size; with this the tongue is continually moistened, so 

 that every small insect it touches instantly adheres to it. 

 The tail, in its strength and pointedness, as well as the 

 feet and claws, prove that the bird was designed for climb- 

 ing; and in fact I have scarcely ever seen it on a tree five 

 minutes at a time without climbing; hopping not only up- 

 wards and downwards, but spirally; pursuing and playing 

 with its fellow, in this manner, round the body of the 

 tree. I have also seen them a hundred times alight on the 

 trunk of the tree; though they more frequently alight on 

 the branches; but that they climb, construct like nests, 

 lay the same number, and the like coloured eggs, and have 

 the manners and habits of the Wookpeckers, is notorious 

 to every American naturalist; while neither in the form 

 of their body, nor any other part, except in the bill being 

 somewhat bent, and the toes placed two before, and two 

 behind, have they the smallest resemblance whatever to 

 the Cuckoo. 



It may not be improper, however, to observe, that there 

 is another species of Woodpeckers, called also Golden- 

 winged, which inhabits the country near the Cape of Good 

 Hope, and resembles the present, it is said, almost exactly 

 in the colour and form of its bill, and in the tint and 

 markings of its plumage; with this difference, that the 

 mustaches are red instead of black, and the lower side of 

 the wings, as well as their shafts, are also red, wliere the 

 other is golden yellow. It is also considerably less. With 

 respect to the habits of this new species, we have no par- 

 ticular account; but there is little doubt that they will 

 be found to correspond with the one we are now describ- 

 ing. 



The abject and degraded character which the count de 

 Buffon, with equal eloquence and absurdity, has drawn of 

 the whole tribe of Woodpeckers, belongs not to the ele- 

 gant and sprightly bird now before us. How far it is ap- 

 plicable to any of them will be examined hereafter. He is 

 not " c6nstrained to drag out an insipid existence in boring 

 the bark and hard fibres of trees to extract his prey," for 

 he frequently finds in the loose mouldering ruins of an old 

 stump, (the capital of a nation of pismires,) more than is 

 sufficient for the wants of a whole week. He cannot be 



said to "lead a mean and gloomy life, without an inter^ 

 mission of labour," who usually feasts by the first peep of 

 dawn, and spends the early, and sweetest hours of morn- 

 ing, on the highest peaks of the tallest trees, calling on his 

 mate or companions; or pursuing and gamboling with 

 them round the larger limbs, and body of the tree, for 

 hours together; for such are really his habits. Can it be 

 said that " necessity never grants an interval of sound re- 

 pose" to that bird, who, while other tribes are exposed to 

 all the peltings of the midnight storm, lodges dry and se- 

 cure in a snug chamber of his own constructing? or that 

 "the narrow circumference of a tree circumscribes At* 

 dull round of life," who, as seasons and inclination in- 

 spire, roams from the frigid to the torrid zone, feasting on 

 the abundance of various regions? Or is it a proof that 

 " his appetite is never softened by delicacy of taste," be- 

 cause he so often varies his bill of fare, occasionally pre- 

 ferring to animal food the rich milkiness of young Indian 

 corn, and the wholesome and nourishing berries of the 

 Wild Cherry, Sour Gum, and Red Cedar? Let the reader 

 turn to the faithful representation of him given in the 

 plate, and say whether his looks be " sad and melancho- 

 ly!" It is truly ridiculous and astonishing that such ab- 

 surdities should escape the lips or pen of one so able to do 

 justice to the respective merits of every species; but Buf- 

 fon had too often a favourite theory to prop up, that led 

 him insensibly astray; and so, forsooth, the whole family 

 of Woodpeckers must look sad, sour, and be miserable, 

 to satisfy the caprice of a whimsical philosopher, who 

 takes it into his head that they are, and ought to be so. 



But the count is not the only European who has misre- 

 presented and traduced this beautiful bird. One has given 

 him brown legs, another a yellow neck; a tliird has de- 

 clared him a Cuckoo, and in an English translation of 

 Linnffius' Sj-stem of Nature, lately published, he is cha- 

 racterized as follows: "transversely striate with black and 

 gray; chin and breast black; does not climb trees;" which 

 is just as correct as if, in describing the human species, 

 we should say — skin strii^ed with black and green; cheeks 

 blue; chin orange; never walks on foot, &c. The pages 

 of natural history should resemble a faithful mirror, in 

 which mankind may recognize the true images of the liv- 

 ing originals; instead of which we find this department of 

 them, too often, like the hazy and rough medium of wretch- 

 ed window glass, through whose crooked protuberances 

 every thing appears so strangely distorted, that one 

 scarcel)r knows their most intimate neighbours and ac- 

 quaintance. 



The Golden-winged Woodpecker has the back and 

 wings above of a dark umber, transversely marked with 

 equidistant streaks of black; upper part of the head ar> 




18-t 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



iron gi'ay; cheeks and parts surrounding the eyes, a fine 

 cinnamon colour; from the lower mandible a strip of black, 

 an inch in length, passes down each side of the throat, 

 and a lunated spot, of a vivid blood red, covers the hind- 

 head, its two points reaching within half an inch of each 

 eye; the sides of the neck, below this, incline to a bluish 

 gray; throat and chin a very light cinnamon or fawn co- 

 lour; the breast is ornamented with a broad crescent of 

 deep black; the belly and vent white, tinged with yellow, 

 and scattered with innumerable round spots of black, 

 every feather having a distinct central spot, those on the 

 thighs and vent being heart-shaped and largest; the lower 

 and inner side of the wing and tail, shafts of all the larger 

 feathers, and indeed of almost every feather, are of a beauti- 

 ful golden yellow — that on the shafts of the primaries be- 

 ing very distinguishable, even when the wings are shut; 

 the rump is white, and remarkably prominent; the tail- 

 coverts white, and curiously serrated with black; upper 

 side of the tail, and the tip below, black, edged with light 

 •loose filaments of a cream colour, the two exterior feathers 

 serrated with whitish; shafts black towards the tips, the 

 two middle ones nearly wholly so; bill an inch and a half 

 long, of a dusky horn colour, somewhat bent, rigdid only 

 on the top, tapering, but not to a point, that being a little 

 wedge-formed; legs and feet light blue; iris of the eye 

 hazel; length twelve inches; extent twenty. The female 

 diflers from the male chiefly in the greater obscurity of 

 the fine colours, and in wanting the black mustaches on 

 each side of the throat. Thisdescription, aswellas thedraw- 

 ing, was taken from a very beautiful and perfect specimen. 

 Though this species, generally speaking, is migratory, 

 yet thej^ often remain with us in Pennsylvania during the 

 whole winter. They also inhabit the continent of North 

 America, from Hudson's Bay to Georgia; and have been 

 found, by voyagers, on the north-west coast of America. 

 They arrive at Hudson's Bay in April, and leave it in 

 September. Mr. Hearne, however, informs us, that 

 "the Golden-winged Woodpecker is almost the only 

 species of Woodpecker that winters near Hudson's Bay." 

 The natives there call it Ou-thee-quan-nor-ow, from the 

 golden colour of the shafts and lower side of the wings. 

 It has numerous provincial appellations in the different 

 states of the Union, such as " High-hole," from the situa- 

 tion of its nest, and "Hittock," " Yucker," "Pint," 

 " Flicker," by which last it is usually known in Pennsyl- 

 vania. These names have probably originated from a 

 fancied resemblance of its notes to the sound of the words; 

 for one of its most common cries consists of two notes or 

 syllables, frequently repeated, which, by the help of the 

 hearer's imagination, may easily be made to resemble any 

 or all of them. — Wilson. 



From the New- York Commercial AdverlUer. 



SCENES ON THE UPPER MISSOURI. 



Since I wrote you my last letter, I have been so much 

 engaged in the amusements of the country, and in the use 

 of my pencil, that I have been unable to drop you a line 

 until the present moment. Before I let you into the plea- 

 sures and amusements of this delightful country, however, 

 I must hastily travel with you over the tedious journey of 

 2000 miles, from St. Louis, over which distance one is 

 obliged to pass before he reaches this place. The Mis- 

 souri is, perhaps, different from all other rivers in the 

 world. There is a terror in its waters which we sensibly 

 feel the moment we enter into it from the Mississippi. 

 From the mouth of the Yellow Stone to the mouth of the 

 Missouri, it sweeps off in one unceasing current, and in 

 the whole distance there is scarcely a resting place. Owing 

 to the continual falling of its alluvial banks, its water is 

 always turbid and opaque, having more the appearance, 

 (in colour,) of a cup of chocolate than any thing else I can 

 think of. I have made experiments with a piece of silver, 

 and also with a shell, which is a much whiter substance, 

 and have ascertained that they cannot be discovered 

 through the sixteenth part of an inch of the water. For 

 the distance of about 1000 miles from St. Louis, the shores 

 of the river, and in many places the whole bed of the 

 stream are filled with snags, trees of the largest size, which 

 have been undermined by the falling banks, their roots 

 becoming fastened in the bottom of the river, and tops 

 pointing down the stream, form a most frightful and dis- 

 couraging prospect for the adventurous voyagers. Almost 

 every island and sand bar is covered with huge piles of 

 these floating trees; and when the river is high it is almost 

 impossible for the boat to proceed, in consequence of the 

 continued rafts of this material, which almost literally 

 cover the surface of the water. W^ith what propriety we 

 might call it the " River Styx," I will not undertake to 

 say, but nothing could be more appropriate than to de- 

 nominate it the " River of Sticks." The scene is not all 

 so dreary, for the eye is delightfully relieved the moment 

 you glance it over the beautiful prairie, most of the way 

 gracefully sloping down to the water's edge, carpeted 

 with the deepest green, and in distance softening into 

 velvet of the richest hues, entirely beyond the reach of 

 the artist's pencil. It has heretofore been very erroneous- 

 ly represented in the world, that the scenery on this river 

 was monotonous, and wanting in picturesque beauty. This 

 intelligence, I find, has come altogether from a set of men, 

 who, if they had been capable of relishing the beauties of 

 nature, would have passed them in this place without no- 



A 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



ticing them, for every moment they are trembling for the 

 safety of their peltries, &c., or for their lives, which are at 

 the mercy of the yelling savages who inhabit this delight- 

 ful country. 



One thousand miles or more of the upper part of the 

 river was to my eye like "fairy land." I was the whole 

 time riveted to the deck of the boat, from which I beheld 

 with rapture the changing scenes of every moment. I 

 cannot so well describe with pen as with my pencil, and 

 have therefore filled my Port Folio with sketches, which 

 it may eventually amuse you to look over. The whole 

 face of the country, from St. Louis to the Falls of the Mis- 

 souri, (six hundred miles above the mouth of Yellow 

 Stone,) is one continued prairie, except the bottoms form- 

 ed along the river, and the streams which empty into it, 

 which are covered with the most luxuriant growth of forest 

 timber. The surface-level of the prairie is from 200 to 

 300 feet above the level of the river, forming a valley the 

 whole way for the river, varying in width from two to 

 twenty miles. The river is alternately running from one 

 bluff to another, which present themselves to its shores in 

 all the most picturesque and beautiful shapes and colours 

 imaginable. Some with their green sides gracefully slope 

 down, in the most beautiful groups, to the water's edge; 

 whilst others, divested of their verdure, present them- 

 selves in many masses of clay of different colours, some 

 standing in the most perfect forms of huge domes, cupolas, 

 turrets, towers, and ruined castles. In distance, some of 

 those groups have the appearance of ancient cities in ruins, 

 with solitary standing columns, falling domes, and ruined 

 edifices. It is amidst these wild haunts that the moun- 

 tain sheep and the fleet-bounding antelope sport in herds, se- 

 cure in these rude places, which are inaccessible to their 

 enemies. 



If any thing did ever literally "astonish the natives," it 

 was the approach of the steamboat alongside of their vil- 

 lages. They were astonished, and thousands of them 

 dropped themselves upon the shore, viewing it with won- 

 der and astonishment. Some called it the "Fire Boat," 

 others called it the " Medicine Boat, with eyes," for they 

 declared it saw its own way, and went along without 

 help. At this place, from which I am writing, the Ame- 

 rican Fur Company have a very strong fort, well piquet- 

 ted, and protected with bastions mounting cannon. This 

 fort was built by, and is now in charge of Mr. McKenzie, 

 who receives all the trades of the nortliern and western 

 Missouri Indians. This post, and the posts and Indian 

 villages which I shall visit on my way down the river, 

 will enable me to get my sketches of the most interesting 

 tribes of Indians in North America, inasmuch as they are 

 less known to the world, and more cleanly in their persons, 

 A Aa 



and more richly dressed than any other Indians on the con- 

 tinent. This tour up the Mississippi presents to me the 

 Sioux, Ricarees, Mandans, Gros-ventres or Miniaterees, 

 Assinnaboins, Creeks, Ojibeways, Crows, Blackfeet, 

 Snakes, Delawares, and Shawanoes. All these nations of 

 Indians speak different languages, and most of them differ 

 in their dress, domestic habits, amusements. Sac; and if 

 my life is spared for a few years, my unwearied exertions 

 will enable me to lay a pretty fair representation of them, 

 together with the other tribes of North America, before 

 the world. 



The splendid costume and elegant taste with which the 

 Crows and Blackfeet dress and ornament themselves, can 

 only be appreciated or realized by those who can see them. 

 I shall devote a future letter entirely to the costume and 

 domestic habits peculiar to each nation, where you will be 

 able to get a detailed account, and form a correct idea of 

 the beauty of their dress and deportment. 



As far as my travels have yet led me into the Indian 

 country, I have more than realized my former predic- 

 tions, " that those Indians who could be found most en- 

 tirely in a state of nature, without the least knowledge of 

 civilized society, would be found to be the most cleanly 

 in their persons — elegant in their dress and manners, and 

 enjoying life to the greatest perfection." 



Every one of these red sons of the forest, (or rather the 

 prairie,) is a knight, and a lord; his squaws are his slaves. 

 The only thing which he deems worthy of his exertions, 

 is to mount his snorting steed with his bow and quiver 

 slung, his arrow shield upon his arm, and his long lance 

 glistening in the war parade — or, divested of all his plumes 

 and trappings, armed with his simple bow and quiver, to 

 plunge his steed amongst the flying herds of buffaloes, and 

 with his sinewy bow, which he never bends in vain, to 

 dive deep in life's fountain the whizzing arrow. The buf- 

 falo herds which always graze upon these beautiful prairies 

 in countless numbers, afford them abundance of meat; and 

 so much is it preferred to all other, that the deer, the elk, 

 and the antelope, sport upon the prairies in herds in the 

 greatest security, as the Indians never kill them unless they 

 want their skin for a dress. 



Whenever Mr. McKenzie's ice-house is nearly empty 

 of beef, he starts with three or four men on horseback, 

 with two or three carts following at a distance, and often- 

 times within view of the fort, if not within a mile or two, 

 they will ride amongst a band of them, and in a few 

 minutes kill ten or twelve of them, selecting the fattest of 

 the herd. These scenes are exceedingly spirited and beau- 

 tiful, furnishing decidedly the finest subjects for the pen- 

 cil of any sporting scenes in the world. The horses in 

 this country are all trained to it, and know exactly how 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



to approach the animal, without being guided by the bit. 

 A short light gun is used for the purpose; the rider guides 

 his horse at full speed, until he has selected the object of 

 his prey; he directs his horse to it, then drops his bridle, 

 and the horse at full speed approaches the animal on the 

 right side, within eight or ten feet, when the shot is gene- 

 rally given with such precision through the vital parts of 

 the body, that he seldom runs more than a hundred yards 

 before he falls. 



I rode in the midst of several of these scenes rather to 

 study than to slay. In one of them, however, finding my 

 horse had brought me so fairly alongside of a bull of the 

 largest size, I caught, as my horse had the enthusiasm of 

 the chase, and with my double-barrelled piece so disabled 

 him that he was immediately left by the band. I halted, 

 and saw my comrades sweeping over the prairies, mingled 

 in the midst of the herd, and leaving at every few rods 

 the dying victims on the plains. I was willing to stop the 

 pursuit, for I found that I had luckily so disabled my bull 

 that he could make none, or but little advance upon me, 

 although he was continually rising and swelling himself 

 with the most frightful rage, and endeavouring to pitch 

 upon me. He was a scene for the painter or the statuary, 

 one worthy of the sublime ideas of Michael Angelo. Not 

 the tiger nor the black maned lion of Africa could have 

 looked half so furious or frightful. I defy the world to 

 produce an animal in his looks so furious and frightful as 

 the buffalo bull, when he is roused in a rage, with his long 

 shaggy mane covering his shoulders and falling to the 

 ground. In this condition I drew my sketch book from 

 my pocket, and by riding towards and around him, and 

 exciting his fury, I was enabled to catch the very attitudes 

 and expressions that I wanted. The party returning, at 

 length, with some anxiety for my safety, and finding me 

 dismounted and busily engaged with the infuriated gen- 

 tleman before me, standing for his likeness, were not a 

 little surprised and amused. When my series of atti- 

 tudes and expressions were finished, a shot through the 

 head ended the scene. 



The health and amusements of this delightful country 

 render it almost painful for me to leave it. The atmos- 

 phere is so light and pure that nothing like fevers or epi- 

 demics has ever been known to prevail here — indeed it is 

 proverbial here that a man cannot die unless he is killed 

 by the Indians. If the cholera should ever cross the At- 

 lantic, what a secure, and at the same time, delightful 

 refuge this country would be for those who would be able 

 to reach it. I shall commence descending the river in a 

 few days in a small boat, and shall stop some time at the 

 Mandans and Gros-vcntres or Minataree villages, 400 

 miles below this, which are probably the most interesting 



villages of Indians which I shall see on the river. From 

 those villages I shall be able to give you some more inter- 

 esting and amusing details of manners and customs of 

 these uncivilized and unchristianized sons of the west. 

 Until then adieu. Your friend and servant, 



George Catlin. 

 Mouth ofYelloiv Stone, July 15th, 1832. 



INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN. 



No. V. 



In most of my former communications, I have con- 

 fined my remarks to the use of the gun, and the manner 

 in which the learner should conduct himself in the field. 

 In the present, and perhaps one or two future numbers, I 

 will endeavour to point out the proper mode of finding 

 the various game, and the most likely parts they inhabit; 

 this is of much importance to the young sportsman, in 

 order to afford him facilities in his excursions. The first 

 bird I shall notice is the partridge, it being the primaiy 

 and most common object of pursuit, and more accessible 

 than others. 



The most favourable season for hunting partridges is a 

 cloudy, damp day, with the wind moderately stirring from 

 the east; for, as this weather presages rain, the birds will 

 always be found in the fields, feeding; and owing to the 

 density of the atmosphere, the effluvium emitted by them, 

 instead of ascending, is wafted by the breeze over the sur- 

 face of the ground, and enables the dog to wind the birds 

 at a very great distance, and the variety of objects which 

 cover the ground, such as grass, leaves, stubble, &c. be- 

 ing softened by the dampness, less noise is created, and 

 the birds consequently not so easily alarmed. It appears 

 hardly necessary to remind you, that you should at all 

 times enter the field against the wind, as the advantages 

 for your dogs are too obvious to require comment. 



Rainy and windy days are alike unfavourable for hunt- 

 ing; both having the tendency to drive the birds into 

 cover for protection from the weather, but, as it is a com- 

 mon occurrence that a favourable morning is often fol- 

 lowed by winds and rain, it is proper the young sports- 

 man should know how to act in regard to either of the 

 two days. I would prefer a moderate rain to a blustering 

 north-westerl}' wind, and would choose rather a wet skin, 

 than the ill effects of hunting through the latter; the for- 

 mer is only unpleasant for the time, and if you exercise 

 constantly you need not fear taking cold; but the latter is 

 painfully unpleasant (especially to the eyes,) for the pre- 

 sent and the bad effect does not wear off for days; besides, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



rain will quiet a covey of partridges, and make the scat- 

 tered birds lie well; but a blustering wind will excite them 

 constantly to motion, and drive them into the depth of 

 swamps and thickets, when, during the former, they will 

 only perhaps remain on the edges of bush-land, and 

 under the most convenient cover: therefore, 



On a favourable day, such as I have described, j-oumust 

 seek the birds at all hours in wheat or r3'e stubble fields, 

 or those covered with high weeds or Indian grass, should 

 feeding ground be near; but should the sun shine, and the 

 day prove warm, it is more than probable towards noon 

 the coveys may seek some neighbouring cover until feed- 

 ing time in the afternoon; of this, however, you must 

 judge for yourself. 



On a windy day it is useless to hunt the fields, unless, 

 indeed, these should be covered with high grass, and other 

 cover not be at hand, as you will more certainly find the 

 birds in some copse, thicket, swamp or hedge row, and 

 nearly always to the leeward side. . 



I do not, however, advocate wet days for hunting, but 

 would advise you not to depart in a rain, unless indeed it 

 should be near the close of a protracted storm, which, if 

 you intend an excursion for several days, will be perhaps 

 the most propitious period for starting, as fine weather 

 will certainly succeed. But should a moderate rain over- 

 take you while in the fields, and your prospect of game 

 be flattering, I certainly, (if your constitution is good,) 

 would favour the prosecution of your enterprise, rather 

 than you should return home. 



A man who contemplates pursuing field sports, must 

 not be frightened at a little bad weather, nor a wet skin, 

 neither must he be chicken-hearted if he should now and 

 then sink waist deep in water or mire, or have his gar- 

 ments torn from his person; these are consequences always 

 attending a sportsman, and he must make up his mind 

 to suffer patiently from hunger and thirst, wet and 

 cold. 



If, on beating for game in a district where you know 

 these birds exist, you should be unsuccessful, you must 

 endeavour to ascertain the reasons; these maybe from the 

 following: first, the foregoing causes of wind and rain may 

 have etfected this change; secondly, birds shot at and 

 worried repeatedly, will frequently move oflf to other 

 places to avoid persecution; thirdly, hawks are very de- 

 structive to partridges, and their appearance will drive a 

 covey of birds into the strongest fastness, where they will re- 

 main from morning until calling time at sunset; and fourth- 

 ly, asthey approach maturity, and cover for them is lessened 

 in consequence of the departure of vegetation, they are 

 inclined to wander over a greater extent of feeding ground, 

 and a covey which may be found in a particular field to- 



day, may not visit this spot again for a week, from these 

 variety of causes: the young sportsman must make his 

 calculations, and see the necessity of hunting faithfully 

 every inch of ground without being discouraged. If you 

 are on high ground and find no birds, take a survey of 

 the country around you, and then depart for the most 

 likely places; the most indubitable evidence of the pre- 

 sence of these birds, (next to ocular proof,) is the heaps 

 of newly-made dung, which abound through their favour- 

 ite feeding grounds; for hither at night they will always 

 return, let their wanderings be what they may through the 

 day time, and no spot must be left untried when this 

 evidence is before you, as the birds, rest assured, are not 

 far distant. 



Should you commence your campaign early in the 

 season, (that is, in October,) you will very likely encoun- 

 ter coveys of unfledged birds and others not half grown; 

 these of course you must avoid destroying, and pass on in 

 search of others; but the danger here is, that you may un- 

 heedfully shoot the old birds, and thus by leaving their 

 progeny destitute of parental care, destroy the whole brood. 

 It is to be regretted that there are those who feel no qualm- 

 ishness on the subject, and will indiscriminately destroy 

 every partridge they meet with, whether in full grown 

 coveys, or during incubation, or at the most interesting 

 period of fostering their young; but is this manlike? 

 nay, humanity knows no such feelings as would deprive 

 the unfledged and helpless young of the protection na- 

 ture has provided; with care, however, you may avoid 

 this, for so soon as the parents of a young brood take 

 wing, they will give evidence of the fact by the manner 

 of their flight; if the brood is very young, and hatched but 

 a day or two, the mother will suffer you to approach with- 

 in a few feet before she will move, and her flight will be 

 only a short distance, while the male bird will evince his 

 solicitude by running through the grass around you, and 

 making a chuckling cry of distress; at this time the mother 

 generally has the whole brood under cover of her wings. 

 Should the young birds have been produced a week or two, 

 the old birds will rise much sooner than in the former 

 case, but will fly only a short distance and settle again on 

 the ground; and in each case the flight mostly will be ac- 

 companied by a twittering cry, and the flight irregular and 

 slow, and with but little of that whirring sound which 

 usually accompanies the motion of their wings; in these in- 

 stances the parents are leading their young, and scratching 

 about to instruct them how to feed. 



When the }-oung are nearly half grown, and able to shift 

 for themselves, the parent birds will always rise first, 

 after which the whole brood will accompany them, utter- 

 ing their feeble cries for a considerable time. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



Now should you be tempted to make a shot in the lat- 

 ter case, there is some excuse for you; but in the two 

 former, should you destroy the parent birds, you 

 deserve to be severely censured, and a repetition of this 

 act ought to be branded with disgrace. 



It is not uncommon during the month of October to see 

 immense coveys of partridges, consisting of several dis- 

 tinct broods, which is evidenced by their difference of 

 size; this occurs more particularly when their period of 

 partial migration arrives. The writer has often sprung 

 coveys of this description, which, on a moderate calcula- 

 tion, contained from one hundred to one hundred and fifty 

 birds; some matured, others half grown, and again those 

 scarcely able to soar above the stubble; and this large num- 

 ber, no doubt, was caused by the junction of several com- 

 munities, during their migratory movements, and while 

 led by the parent birds; later in the season this seldom 

 occurs, and when it is the case, it is always from the ac- 

 cidental meeting of two or more coveys. In November, 

 and until the division of the parties into pairs again in the 

 spring, it is rare to meet with a single covey containing 

 over thirty birds, and the average number may generally 

 be placed at twenty. 



The shooting season for partridges should not com- 

 mence before November; formerly, in some places, it was 

 established, by law and custom, on the 1st of September, 

 and afterwards altered to October. But, if sportsmen 

 would control their eagerness one month later, and not 

 commence until the 1st of November, the birds would be 

 full grown, and the shooting more pleasant, in consequence 

 of this circumstance, and of the denuded state of the trees 

 and other shrubbery. The shooting season then would 

 consist of three months, November, December, and Janu- 

 ary, which should sufllce. No bird is fit to eat out of 

 season, and the partridge is not good food until that pe- 

 riod when its food consists of grain. During the summer 

 and early fall months, this bird will feed on insects with 

 as much avidity as those which are not granivorous, but 

 this is more of necessity than choice, as insects are then 

 in abundance, and grass seeds and grain scarce, being un- 

 ripe and not within their reach; but so soon as frosts appear, 

 insects are destroyed, seed are ripened and cast to the 

 ground, and the partridge finds food more suitable to its 

 nature, and its flesh becomes firm and of good flavour. Most 

 carnivorous animals are rejected as unfit for food, and the 

 partridge out of season is of this description, consequently 

 the shooting season should be regulated accordingly. You 

 should not hunt when the ground is covered with snow; 

 this generally is the signal for all true sportsmen to give 

 up partridge shooting for that season; the birds then, in- 

 stead of~being persecuted by you, should receive protec- 



tion from your hands against their other enemies; these 

 you know are hawks of all kinds, and vermin, such as 

 foxes, minks, weasels and skunks. The farmers' boys, 

 also, are the most formidable at this time, by trapping 

 numbers, and bringing them to market; of these you should 

 always purchase a portion, and sustain them through the 

 winter, so that you may release them again in the coming 

 spring. 



In preserving partridges through the winter, permit me 

 to remark, that several things are requisite which are not 

 always observed, even by those who pretend to sustain 

 quantities of these birds; and for want of these precautions 

 we sometimes see out of a number of cage birds, many, 

 perhaps more than half, become sick and die. To 

 prevent this, you should in the first place provide a room 

 with a southern exposure, (into which the sun will shine) 

 sufficiently large for them to run about and get exercise, 

 for you must recollect, the chief exercise of the partridge 

 when at liberty is on foot; in this room you should put 

 some sand and gravel mixed, not a handful or shovel full, 

 but a wheelbarrow load; this will not be too much; this 

 article is used by the partridge both internally and exter- 

 nally; internally to assist the mechanical operations of its 

 gizzard, and externally, for the same purposes which 

 we use water, namely, to cleanse ourselves from im- 

 purity; what would be the consequences to us were we 

 deprived of ablution from water? should we not be cover- 

 ed with filth and vermin, and these generate disease, 

 and death of course would certainly follow? The 

 partridge, therefore, as well as all birds of the gallina- 

 ceous order, w-allow in the dirt to cleanse their bodies 

 and preserve them from vermin;* and it hence follows, 

 that if this natural supply is withheld, the consequences 

 to these interesting birds will be the same as to us if we 

 were deprived of the use of water. I am thus particular, 

 in order to show the necessity of placing a larger quantity 

 of sand and gravel within their reach than is usually done, 

 so that they may be enabled to wallow deeply into it. The 

 room should also be in a situation where the birds cannot 

 be disturbed, for this frets and frightens them, and will 

 prevent their feeding; you should feed them but once a 

 day, and then just before sunset, and with food sufficient 

 for two meals, consisting of the following varieties, wheat, 

 rye, broken corn, buckwheat, and stale bread; a little 

 water should of course be placed in the room in some shal- 

 low vessel, which should be replenished by means of a 



• The writer has often observed, that when a sick partridge was con- 

 fined with otliers which were well, the latter would frequently search 

 the plumage of the former for vermin, with much industry and appa- 

 rent commiseration, while the sickly bird would evidence by its pa»- 

 siveness, much relief from the kind offices of its friend. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



189 



tunnel from without. The room should never be entered, 

 but the feed thrown to them through a hole in the door or 

 window. 



These birds never have recourse to water, except for 

 drink, and but little of this will suffice, as they will satiate 

 their thirst in preference, from tiie drops of rain and dew, 

 whicli adhere to the leaves and grass; but every sports- 

 man has noticed, during August, September, and Oc- 

 tober, the number of wallowing places in the earth, in 

 stubble fields and small bush land, especially on the south 

 side of hills, and this habit continues always until severe 

 frosty weather. When any animal is taken from its 

 native state, and placed in captivity, many things should 

 be taken into consideration, so that confinement may 

 not afiect its health; and, as the partridge uses exercise 

 mostly on foot, is fond of the sun, and cannot live with- 

 out sand and gravel, it proves the necessity of conforming 

 as much as possible to its habits in these respects. 



Should many more seasons be experienced like those of 

 1829, 30 and 31, the preservation of the partridge will 

 be an object of primary consequence with the sportsman; 

 and when it is considered that this bird is a great source 

 of his enjoyments, and all of his preparation subsidiary to 

 it, is it not a matter of moment, that the cause should be 

 preserved, if he ivishes to experience its effects? T. 



POISONOUS FISH. 



Clupea Thryssa, 

 Conger Muraena, 

 Coracinus Fuscus, 

 Corophcena Splcndens, 

 Cypriniis Barbus, 

 Opah, 



Ostracion Glabellum, 

 Perca Major, 

 Pcrca Marina, 

 Scomber Thynnus, 

 Tctrodon Scleratiis, 



Yellow-billed Sprat 



Conger Eel. 



Grey Snapper. 



Dolphin. 



Barbel, (of Europe.) 



King Fish. 



Smooth Bottle Fish. 



Barracuta. 



Rock Fish. 



Bonelta. 



Til 



inny. 



The cancer ma:nas, or common crab, and the cancer 

 gammarius, or lobster, are the principal varieties in the 

 insect tribe employed as food, and capable of exercising 

 deiiterious effects. The my til us edulis, or muscle, is, per- 

 haps, the only edible species of vermes, or worms. The 

 ill effects sometimes attributed to tlie muscle of Europe, 

 are generally supposed to be occasioned, when a small tuft 

 of moss, attached to the body of the worm, is swallowed 

 through carelessness; and the symptoms produced, may 

 rather be referred to those of oppression, in consequence 

 of the indigestible nature of the substance, than to any 

 poisonous qualities it possesses; there are, however, some 

 Bsb 



muscles, particularly in the East and West Indies, that, 

 in common with some other marine animals, exercise an 

 unfavourable influence upon the animal economy, produce 

 the same symptoms, and terminate in the same result as 

 the most poisonous of the fish tribe. 



This list, then, comprises the common varieties of poi- 

 sonous animals, but many could probably be added to the 

 number: the exact nature of their qualities is but little un- 

 derstood; whether they reside in the whole carcase, or in 

 someparticu]arpartofit,areintroducedintotheanimalinthe 

 form offood, or are constantly retained, areoccasioned by the 

 spawning season, by any peculiar habits of the animal, or 

 by its sickness; and whether they depend upon the idio- 

 syncrasy of the individual eating them for their operation, 

 are all circumstances of remark, and of uncertainty in de- 

 termirration. 



Fish and muscles of the most poisonous description ap- 

 pear to the eye as healthy and agreeable as the most whole- 

 some varieties: chemistry will not lend any assistance in 

 discovering their noxious properties, and out of a number 

 of persons who may occasionally have eaten of the same 

 dish, a few are found violently, some slightly, and others 

 not at all affected. The process of carefully cleaning and 

 salting, appears to abate the danger of eating some of the 

 varieties above mentioned; but even this precaution will 

 not always ensure escape: it is then certain, that whatever 

 poisonous qualities exist, they are greatly increased or 

 diminished by the peculiar condition of the system gene- 

 rally, and of the digestive organs in particular, of those 

 who partake of them. Crabs and lobsters, especially, will 

 afiect some persons at one time, and prove innocuous at 

 another, even in the same season, and under similar cir- 

 cumstances in every respect. The immediate symptoms 

 of disorder occasioned are, great nausea, constriction of 

 the throat, thirst, a sense of suffocation, and a burning 

 heat on the whole surface of the body; to these succeed 

 diarrhcEa, cold sweats, faintness, and spasmodic affections 

 of the muscles; efflorescence of the skin, and sometimes a 

 miliary eruption; in the worst cases the eyes become in- 

 flamed; the wrist, ancle, and knee joints, are visited with 

 acute pains; tenesmus and stranguary ensue; and the suf- 

 ferer is almost beyond the power of art: these symptoms, 

 of course, apply to the worst cases; to such as are record- 

 ed in the annals of West Indian practice, in general the 

 milder symptoms alone prevail, and are under the control 

 of medicine. W^hen death ensues, it would appear to be 

 occasioned by an absorption of the poison through the cir- 

 culation, and how actively it exerts itself through that me- 

 dium is apparent from the symptoms occasioned; an ex- 

 amination of the body after death displays the stomach 

 and intestines in an inflamed state, with occasional patches 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



of ulceration of the mucous membrane; generally a quantity 

 of dark, fcetid fluid in the stomach; while the vessels and 

 membranes of the brain present appearances, sometimes 

 of intensely, but generally of slightly, increased vascula- 

 rity. The most valuable remedies are, first, evacuantsof 

 the stomach and bowels, and then cordials and stimulants; 

 the use of ether, in drachm doses, frequently given in some 

 simple fluid, may, perhaps, be preferred. 



The Rationale of this treatment is appparent. 



There are no Tests by which this mode of poisoning can 

 be detected. — Colcy on Poisons and Aspliyxia. 



o'clock, when the nineteenth arrived; twenty-six others 

 had reached home before day-break the next morning. 

 Thus, the swiftest pigeon flew to Antwerp in five hours 

 and a half — the distance in a straight line sixt3--two com- 

 mon leagues. — Lon. Sport. Mag. 



RIFLE SHOOTING. 



Mr. Editor: 



EXTRAORDINARY PIGEON MATCH. 



Two persons arrived in London the 10th of July, from 

 Antwerp, with 110 pigeons, to be thrown ofif there, for 

 the purpose of ascertaining whether they would find their 

 way back, and, if so, in what time they would perform 

 the journey. The birds belong to the Cansdel Tavern 

 Club, Antwerp; and eighteen prizes were to be competed 

 for in this flight; the first a gold medal of considerable 

 value, and the others sums of money. Sunday had been- 

 fixed at Antwerp for their departure, but the weather was 

 too hazy. On Monday morning, at a quarter to nine, a 

 favourable glimpse of sunshine broke through, which fix- 

 ed their determination. The pigeons were contained in 

 eight inclosures, constructed of wire and canvass, and capa- 

 ble of admitting a sufficiency of air to the birds, and on 

 the top of each inclosure was a trap-door of tin. The bas- 

 kets were all placed side by side, and after the means of 

 opening the traps were so adjusted as to be opened at the 

 same time, at a given signal the doors were all lifted up, 

 and out rushed the pigeons at the same instant. They rose 

 in a flock, and never hovered the least, but bent their way 

 as straight as possible in the direction they were most 

 likely to reach home. They were all pigeons of a cross 

 breed unknown to the English fanciers, having traces of 

 the carrier, tumbler, and dragon pigeon, but all having 

 one distinguished peculiarity, in what is designated the 

 " pearl eye." The men set off on foot shortly after for 

 Dover, with a proper certificate of the hour of depar- 

 ture. A letter from Brussels, dated July 23, says — " The 

 pigeons, 110 in number, to be let fly on Sunday in Lon- 

 don, were not despatched till the next day at three-quar- 

 ters past eight in the morning, with a strong W. S. W. 

 breeze. At eighteen minutes past two the gold medal 

 was gained; the second pigeon arrived thirty seconds later; 

 by twenty-three minutes past two, six had arrived, and 

 all the prizes, eighteen in number, were gained by 5 



A few days since, while travelling through Schuylkill 

 county, my attention was drawn to a collection of " Lea- 

 ther Stockings," at a place called St. Clair, who had as- 

 sembled for the purpose of shooting for an ox. The in- 

 terest I felt in witnessing an exhibition of the kind, as 

 well as the grotesque appearance of some of the part}', in- 

 duced me to remain for the day, and I accordingly took my 

 station where I should be free from accident and best wit- 

 ness the performance. Some difficulty, however, occur- 

 red between the shooters and the owner of the ox, which 

 prevented the match from going on. The reasons on both 

 sides I could not understand, as the discussions were in 

 German; but in the afternoon, one of your citizens, well 

 known and respected, and whose fame as a shooter had 

 preceded him, arrived with a hunting party, and imme- 

 diately the whole appeared upon the ground for a trial of 

 skill. The annexed cut shows the size of the paper 

 shot at, and the precise manner it was perforated by 

 the difl"erent balls. 



.rfiiiiii 



^ 



Those who shot with a rest took their station at 

 one hundred yards, while those who shot ofi-hand, 

 or without a rest, advanced to within sixty yards of 

 the target: the forty yards being allowed as an equiva- 

 lent for shooting without a rest. The " city feller," as 

 he was called, being an ofF-hand shot, and a stranger 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



among them, was requested to take his stand first, which 

 he complied with, and with the report of his gun the pa- 

 per dropped. " Drove the nail," cried the judges, or the 

 persons stationed at the target. " Altogether an accident," 

 replied the shooter, and the paper was restored again. A 

 INIr. Lucas, a Blue Mountain yankee, took the stand next. 

 "This gentleman is considered the best shot in the 

 county," said one of his companions, and the result shows 

 that he is no "Slouch." He fired, and buried the ball 

 in the upper edge of the paper, which I send you. The 

 others took their turn, but although all came within an 

 inch of the paper, no one struck it; and the stranger again 

 entered the stand for a second shot. The result you will 

 find in the lower edge of the paper. When this shot was 

 announced, an old gentleman, (a German,) standing near 

 me, cried out to his companion, who was at the hundred 

 yard station — "Jake! Jake! by hoky that city feller 

 shoots like tamnation." The others fired, and the " city 

 feller" took the stand for the third time; the mark of this 

 ball you will find in the centre of the paper, a little to the 

 left of the first shot. Lucas followed and put his ball a 

 little to the left of those in the centre. The whole shoot- 

 ing was good. The entire space did not occupy more 

 than four inches in diameter. 



The generous hospitality that was ofiered to the stran- 

 ger is also deserving of notice. When the wind blew they 

 would call to him to hold up, and carefully pointed out 

 every thing that was calculated to operate against him. 

 Such other marks of kindness were exhibited, as clearly 

 showed to me, that those people, though rough in exterior, 

 and uncouth in speech and habit, knew and cultivated those 

 feelings which entitle them to our veneration and respect; 

 without envy they saw a competitor who rivalled and as- 

 tonished them; without prejudice they acknowledged and 

 proclaimed it. M. J. 



November 27, 1S3-2. 



From the American Turf Register. 



HUNTLNG THE WILD CAT IN NORTH CARO- 

 LINA. 



Mr. Editor: 



We have a species of game with us, which I believe is 

 peculiar to this section of country — at least I see no men- 

 tion made of it in 3-our excellent magazine, where I have 

 met with descriptions of every other variety of hunting. 

 And yet, the Wild Cat will aflbrd the huntsman as much 



sport, and the hounds as much work, as any other animal 

 that I ever followed. Indeed it requires a staunch and 

 numerous pack to take them, for even when run to a stand 

 still — no easy work by the by — they are enabled from 

 their great strength and ferocity, to keep five or six dogs 

 at bay, without difficulty. 



The Wild Cat is much larger, and infinitely stronger 

 than the grey fox, (the red not being an inhabitant of our 

 woods, I know nothing of.) It is about as fleet as the 

 common fox, but as it confines its run to very strong and 

 thick covers, the chase lasts much longer than that of the 

 fox. And being, in addition to all this, a terrible enemy 

 to the farm-yard, taking off pigs, poultry, lambs, and some- 

 times even grown sheep, our sportsmen, who are all far- 

 mers, pursue them with inveterate industry. Invited by 

 the flattering appearance of the weather last week, Mr. 

 W. and myself determined to give our dogs a trial. We 

 accordingly rode to cover on Saturday morning, with six 

 couple of as fine dogs as ever followed deer, fox, or Wild 

 Cat. It was our first turn out this season — the whole pack 

 was, consequently, full of riot, and the young dogs in par- 

 ticular, were perfectly frantic. The morning was as auspi- 

 cious as we could wish — the dog fennel and pine bushes 

 hung droopingly, overloaded with dew. It was quite cool, 

 clear as a bell, and so perfectly calm, that the joyous notes 

 of the dogs, as they gambolled in wild excitement before 

 us, or leaped up fawningly upon our horses, were heard 

 to re-echo over the distant Neuse. After leaving the 

 river a little to the right, we threw off the hounds into a 

 very promising cover, on the north side of Smith's Creek. 

 Here we had not proceeded very long, when old Drum- 

 mer told us, that soine prowler had been passing, during 

 the night. The scent was very cold, and we worked it 

 slowly and with difficulty, along the windings of the creek; 

 frequently interrupted by the outbursts of the young dogs, 

 after rabbits, &c. By dint of whipping and scolding, we 

 succeeded in bringing these last under some subjection. 

 The trail still appearing very cold, we made a cast on the 

 opposite bank of the creek, but with no better success. 

 The game had been there, but it must have been very 

 early, on the previous evening. In the mean time, old 

 Drummer had got back to his old trail, and continued to 

 work it with untiring perseverance. The drag appearing 

 to grow warmer, we concluded to hark the other dogs to 

 him. Echo and Rover soon gave tongue, Macduff and 

 Nimrod joined in. Still our best fox dog, old Milton, 

 refused to recognize the trial as legitimate; we were now 

 sure of the nature of our game; it must be a Wild Cat. 

 We continued to encourage the dogs with increased anxiety. 

 At last, all of them, young and old, acknowledged the 

 trail, and growing into a confirmed drag, it proceeds 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



throiio-h the river svvnmp, deep into the marsh, far along 

 the margin of the river, and then — what a crash! you 

 might have heard them down the wind, three miles off. 

 And now, swelling into a loader and still a louder strain, 

 the quarry makes directly for the spot where we had taken 

 our stand, upon the verge of the swamp, as far in as we 

 could well make our way. We had raised our voices in 

 one exulting shout, when that wild burst had told us, the 

 o-ame was up. But in the tumultuous roar behind him, 

 every other sound was hushed, and the Cat made straight 

 for us, either not hearing or heeding our halloo. We were 

 now still as statues — and the pack came rushing on — the 

 crashing of the reeds, the rending of the undergrowth, the 

 splashing of the mud and water, and the deep mouthed 

 roaring of the hounds, uniting together, like the mingling 

 tumults of a September gale, and seeming to give to the 

 terrified animal, the wings of the wind. He must have 

 passed within ten steps of us, but owing to the thick cover, 

 we could not catch a view. The pack, however, were 

 close upon him, for they passed us, running breast high, 

 all together — no running dog, or in line, but each emu- 

 lously dashing for the lead. The Cat seemed determined 

 to try their mettle, and beat them by downright game. 

 Contrary to the usual practice of the animal, he made a 

 straight stretch over the highland, along the border of 

 Smith's old field, and at such a slashing rate, that, to lie 

 by them, made Madge blow like a blacksmith's bellows 

 on a frosty morning. She's a little too fat at present, and 

 not long from grass. Finding this game could never last 

 long, the Cat endeavoured to throw them out, by a rapid 

 succession of ugly dodges, which bothered the young dogs 

 excessively. But old Milton was wide awake — he had 

 followed too many foxes in his day, to be out-generalled 

 even by a Wild Cat. He followed him cautiously, but 

 unerringly, through all his circles and angles, and the 

 whole pack winding after him, with such close and unre- 

 mitting assiduity, that they only made two losses, and 

 then, for only two minutes. After circling for about half 

 an hour, in a very thick gum swamp, where he had a great 

 advantage over the dogs, " Monsieur le. Chat," finding 

 himself considerably in advance of the hounds, thought 

 he might try them again at long taw; so hoisting out all 

 canvass, he made sale for Bachelor's Creek. This was 

 just what the pack wanted; the young dogs were terribly 

 pestered in the swamp, but here again, all was plain sail- 

 ing; and so the Cat seemed to think too, for, finding that 

 he could not make good his retreat to Bachelor, he tacked 

 ship, and stood back on his old track — but he was done 

 up. He did not indeed contrive to get back to his old 

 place of refuge, the swamp; but we knew, by the manner 

 in which the old dogs were pushing for the lead, that his 



fate was sealed. He had been now two hours and a half 

 on the pad, and we could tell, as we saw him mount a 

 log, his eyes flashing, his hair bristling, his short tail lash- 

 ing, " as doubting to return or fly" — his race of existence 

 was run. As we raised the view halloo, his tail drooped 

 again, which he was elevating as a signal for combat, and 

 he dragged himself from the log, with weak and unsteady 

 steps; scarcely had he jumped from one end of the log, 

 when Milton and Echo mounted it at the other, followed 

 by the rest of the pack. Animated by our cheer, and the 

 sight of the devoted game, they seemed to gain additional 

 vigour, and, before we had made our way a hundred yards 

 further in the swamp, we heard a sharp, angry growl, 

 then Echo's shrill yelp, as she leaped upon the prey, and 

 then a cry from her, as if slie had run afoul of a kettle of 

 hot water. Talleyrand next gave a howl of agony, as he 

 shrunk from the rude welcome of the Wild Cat. All the 

 rest as they came up, seemed to acknowledge by their 

 cries, that they had caught a tartar. But what can one do 

 against twelve? — most of them, too, young, strong and ac- 

 tive. Why, Jackson and Beaufort alone, are strong enough 

 to pull down the strongest buck that ever stood at bay. 

 Even a Wild Cat must yield to such a fearful odds; so that 

 when we succeeded in scrambling to them, we found our 

 enemy, (and a huge one he was,) dead upon the field, and 

 the dogs limping and baying around, manifesting by their 

 condition, the severity of the chase and combat. 



Yours, respectfully, A. F. G. 



Newbern, September- 22, 1832. 



ANECDOTE. 



" The bon-vivans of America, talk of the canvas-back 

 with an interest that borders on affection, and is some- 

 times very amusing. ' Sir,' said an old fellow to me, 'I 

 wished to give a duck feast, and accordingh' I bought 

 nine couple of them all fresh killed, and all of the right 

 weight. I stuffed them into every corner of my gig, and 

 would not suffer the cook to touch them except in my pre- 

 sence; I dressed them all myself, in different ways, and in 

 my own parlour, so as to have them all done according to 

 figure, sir! Well, sir! all my company had arrived, ex- 

 cept an old German; we could not wait, and sat down 

 without him. When he came, he exclaimed, 'What 

 noshing but duckhs!' I started up in a rage, sir! a violent 

 rage, sir! 'noshing but duckhs!' I repeated after him. — 

 Why, you old scoundrel, said I, your own Emperor of 

 Austria never had such a dinner, he could not, sir, though 

 he gave the best jewel in his crown for it." 



[ Fignc's six months in America. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



SKUNK. 

 MEPHITIS AMERICANA. 



[Plate XVII. Vol. 2.] 



Mephitis Americana; Desm. Godman Vol. i. p. 21 S, 

 Viverra Mephitis; Gmel. [Z.] Syst. Nat. p. 88, No. 

 13, Chinche; Burp. Hist. Nat. torn. 33, jil. xx. /§•. 

 2. Enfant du diable; Chaelev. Nouv. France v. 

 196. Skunk'JVeesel, Penn. §«<«</. 2, /;. 65, No. 263. 



The Skunk is a pretty and at the same time a most 

 noxious animal, and is ranked among those vermin so de- 

 structive to the farmers' interests, and to various descrip- 

 tions of game. 



JNIost persons are acquainted with this animal by cha- 

 racter,although but few know it by sight; nor do any seek to 

 encounter it farther than with feelings of enmity or re- 

 venge, as it is an unwelcome visiter to any neighbourhood, 

 in consequence of its destructive and other disagreeable 

 habits. When its abode i_s well secured it is a most diffi- 

 cult matter to dislodge or drive it from the premises; and 

 there is perhaps no animal possessing so little energy and 

 strength, which is so completely protected by other natu- 

 ral means from its enemies. 



The fetor emitted by the Skunk, when defending itself, 

 is so exceedingly powerful, as will almost suffocate its an- 

 tagonist and cause a rapid retreat from so disgusting an 

 enemy. This stench can be produced or retained at plea- 

 sure by the animal, and is seldom diffused, except when 

 violence is committed toward it, or in defending itself 

 from attack. Of the nature of this liquid many persons dif- 

 fer; some believing it to be its urine,' and others, more 

 reasonably, contend that it is entirely distinct, and given 

 onlyas its means of protection. OnthisheadDr. Godman re- 

 marks, that " A few glands secrete a most noisome and 

 intolerably stinking fluid, and this scattered with peculiar 

 force upon the body of its enemies, or even in the air, is 

 sufficient to disarm the violence of most quadrupeds, and 

 induce man himself rather to avoid than to seek an en- 

 counter. 



"The organs by which this fluid is formed are placed 

 near the termination of the digestive tube, and the ducts 

 from the glands open into the rectum, by the aid of whose 



* It has been for a long time the opinion among- the country folks 

 and many others, tliat the unpleasant perfume discharged by the 

 Skunk is its urine, and that it is scattered against its enemies by 

 Its tail; this liquid, Er. Godman says, produces a phosphorescent 

 light. 



muscles the fluid is ejected with astonishing force, and is 

 aimed with great accuracy, rarely missing the object if dis- 

 charged while within the proper distance. The faculty 

 this animal possesses of annoying its enemies by the dis- 

 charge of the fluid just mentioned, causes it rather to be 

 shunned than hunted, which the value of its skin would 

 otherwise be sure to occasion. 



"The fetor produced by the Skunk is especially charac- 

 terized by all who have experienced it as suffocating or 

 stifling, which is owing to its peculiar concentration. The 

 predominant odour is that of muskiness, but in so con- 

 densed and aggravated a form as to render it almost in- 

 supportable, even at a considerable distance from the spot 

 where it is first discharged. A very good idea may be 

 formed of this stench by breaking and smelling a leaf or 

 stalk of the plant called skunk cabbage, (the Dracontium 

 fetiduin, or pothos fetidum, resembling it in every re- 

 spect except in strength, which perhaps no artificial accu- 

 mulation of this vile scent could ever equal. 



"The fluid ejected by the Skunk is not merely offensive 

 by its stench, but also in consequence of its highly stimu- 

 lating and acrim-onious qualities. When any of it is thrown v^^ 

 into the eyes, it is productive of very violent and danger- 

 ous inflammation; we must suppose that this peculiar 

 acrimony, rather than any mere offensiveness of odour, is 

 the cause of the marked repugnance evinced by dogs, as 

 these show not the slightest sign of uneasiness from the 

 presence of the most nauseous and putrid efiluvia from ani- 

 mal or vegetable substances, yet run howling and trying 

 to thrust their noses into the ground after having been ex- 

 posed to this pungent perfume from the Skunk. 



"In its extreme volatility it bears a considerable resem- 

 blance to true musk. The smallest drop is sufficient to 

 render a garment detestable to the wearer and his com- 

 panions for a great duration of time, and without any per- 

 ceptible diminution of intensity. Washing, smoking, 

 baking and burying articles of dress, and in fact every ef- 

 fort short of destroying the materials of which they are 

 made, seem to be equally inefficient for its removal. This 

 scent is not only thus enduring when the fluid is sprinkled 

 upon clothing, but the spot where the animal is killed, or 

 where the matter was ejected, retains it for a great lapse 

 of time. ' When I was at Cumberland House, (says 

 Hearne, p. 378,) in the fall of 1774, some Indians that 

 were tenting on the plantation killed two of these animals, 

 and made a feast of them, when the spot where they were 

 singed and gutted was so impregnated with the nauseous 

 smell which they emit, that after a whole winter had 

 elapsed, and the snow had thawed away in the spring, tnc 

 smell was still intolerable.' A friend informed the author 

 of this work, that he had plainly perceived the odour of 




194 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



the fluid ejected by this animal from across the Hudson 

 river, near Albany; we have no doubt of its being possi- 

 ble to smell it at a much greater distance when the 

 wind blows from the spot where the effluvium is thrown 

 out. 



"Howeversingular the fancy may appear, we are assured 

 by Catesby that he has seen one of these animals tamed as 

 a pet, and following its owner like a little dog, without 

 offering to offend any one by its peculiar odour, which it 

 has the power of dispensing at will. When it is recollect- 

 ed that on any provocation or threatened injury, the 

 Skunk immediately fires upon his disturber, it will be con- 

 ceded that such a pet must require a very cautious manage- 

 ment, for to startle it suddenly, or injure it accident- 

 ally, would expose both friends and enemies to a shower 

 of 'liquid sweets,' which all 'the odours from the spicy 

 shore of Araby the blest' could not correct. 



" If the Skunk be killed while unsuspicious of the ap- 

 proach of danger, or before time has been allowed for the 

 discharge of his artillery of perfume, the animal is not in 

 any way disagreeable, and may be approached closely, or 

 even eaten without the least unpleasantness, if the glands 

 it be carefully taken out. Its flesh, when the odorous parts 

 have been carefully removed, is said to be well flavour- 

 ed, and resembles that of a pig considerably. It is eaten 

 by tlie Indians, and occasionally by hunters, with much 

 relish. 



"The Skunk is most generally found in the forests or 

 their immediate vicinity, having its den either in the hol- 

 low of an old tree or stump, or an excavation in the ground. 

 It feeds upon the young and eggs of birds, and on small 

 quadrupeds, wild fruits, &c. Occasionally the Skunk 

 gains access to the poultry-yard, where it does much mis- 

 chief by breaking and sucking the eggs, or by killing the 

 fowls. When resident in the vicinity of farm-houses, it 

 remains for a long time without giving notice of its pre- 

 sence by emitting its offensive fluid, which proves how 

 ridiculous is the notion that the urine of this animal is the 

 source of its disgusting fetor; for, as Hearne justly ob- 

 serves, were this the fact, the whole countr}- it inhabits 

 %vould be rendered almost insupportable to every other 

 creature." 



The Skunk, like most predatory animals, seldom travels 

 in the day time, but so soon as twilight of the evening has 

 approached, it sallies forth in search of prey, and while 

 the unsuspicious and innocent objects of its search are 

 sleeping, they become the easy victims to the rapacity of 

 this destroyer. The Skunk destroys its prey almost in- 

 stantly. This is in consequence of the suddenness with 

 which it strikes the intended victim at the throat, and the 

 sharpness of its teeth and strength of grasp produces death 



so soon, and with so much quietness, that even in a hen- 

 roost no alarm is given to a neighbouring fowl by the in- 

 truder, or the unfortunate sufferer. With, however, its 

 destructive habits, it has some redeeming qualities, as it 

 is a great enemy to rats, and will utterly destroy these 

 vermin, as readily as the ferret; and it is said that some 

 farmers on this account encourage their presence by all 

 possible protection; and a certain author states, that "he 

 witnessed an instance where a great number of rats were 

 found in a stack of wheat, but all of them in the upper 

 part; for several yards from the ground, not a rat was to 

 be met with, which excited some surprise; but the cir- 

 cumstance was fully explained on reaching the bottom, 

 where it was found an enormous Skunk had taken up its 

 abode." 



This animal is very common throughout the United 

 States, but, as it roams only during the night season, it is 

 seldom seen, except by accident. The writer, during his 

 residence at the paternal home, a few miles from thiscit}^, 

 frequently encountered the Skunk, and became in a mea- 

 sure familiarized to its disgusting habits: to a person, how- 

 ever, ignorant of the animal and the stench it produces, 

 the scent for the first time is exceedingl}' offensive and in- 

 tolerable, and the most credulous would not believe its 

 power, until it could be sensibly experienced. In one 

 instance, while hunting woodcock during the month of 

 August, one of my dogs encountered and killed a Skunk 

 before I could approach the belligerents, and from the ef- 

 fects of the fetor received in the battle, he was rendered 

 entirely useless for a whole year, and did not recover the 

 goodness of his nose for nearly double that time. Subse- 

 quently I was hunting with the same dog after partridges, 

 and while passing through a large wood, he came to a 

 stand near a pile of cleft wood: thinking a rabbit had 

 taken shelter beneath it, I endeavoured in vain to dislodge 

 it; at length, stooping down to take a closer survey, I 

 discovered a Skunk sitting in a defensive posture, ready 

 in a moment to discharge its powerful artillery; wishing 

 to have a joke with a gentleman who was with me, and 

 who was entirely ignorant of the animal in question, I re- 

 quested him to approach and examine the stranger, to 

 which he assented; and after expressing his admiration, 

 and made some inquiries about it, I told him to stand wh.ere 

 he was until I shot it. Not suspecting my design, he ap- 

 proached to within five or six feet, while I receded as 

 many yards and shot the animal. Immediately my friend 

 was enveloped in this horrible stench, almost to suflbca- 

 tion, who retreated fifty or sixty yards, coughing and puff- 

 ing so vehemently, as caused me to regret that I had played 

 the trick on his ignorance. The volatility of this odour 

 is wonderful, and can be scented at a great distance. In 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



193 



the above instance, the animal was killed nearly three- 

 fourths of a mile from our destined home, and ere we 

 reached it, the inmates of the house had experienced the 

 scent, and asked us on our arrival, if we had not killed a 

 Skunk. 



This animal in some parts is called the Polecat, and in 

 England the Phillemark or Fitchet. Its form somewhat 

 resembles the ferret, but much larger; its motion is grace- 

 ful, but not rapid, and when running, moves in zigzag di- 

 rections. A full grown Skunk is about eighteen inches 

 long, and the tail seven, one half of which is caused by 

 the long hair at its extremity. It generally is of a dark 

 brown or chocolate colour; this is caused by the arrange- 

 ment of its pelage, which is of two kinds; the long hair 

 which is blackish, and the fur which is of a dirty yellow, 

 and the mixture of the two causes the brownish appear- 

 ance of the animal. On the forehead is a white spot; the 

 head is small, broad at the top, and tapers considerably 

 to the nose; the ears are small, rounded, and sometimes 

 tipped with white — the end of the tail is purely white; 

 two white stripes extend along the sides of the back, com- 

 mencing from the back part of the neck, and terminating 

 near the hips — the throat, legs, and lower part of the tail, 

 are the darkest. This is the general appearance of the ani- 

 mal — but they vary so much, that no individual can be 

 depended on as a representative in description of the race; 

 as some are lighter, and others darker in colour; some 

 are without the regular stripes on the back and spots on 

 the head, and have patches of white over different parts of 

 their bodies. 



The female brings forth her young in the spring, to the 

 number of four or six. 



MANNERS AND HABITS OF THE DOMESTIC 

 CAT. 



I have in my family a Cat, a castrated male, which I 

 brouglit up from a kitten. He is a fine, well-shaped ani- 

 mal, and has a coat of hair of the most perfect, glossy 

 black, which, with the true characteristic of his species, he 

 keeps very clean and beautiful. He is one of a litter of five, 

 the offspring of an old grey Cat, an excellent mouser, who 

 is since dead. Being the stoutest and handsomest kitten 

 of his family, he was preserved from the general destruc- 

 tion, and left in the charge of his old mother, with whom, 

 in his early days, he had many a rare romp, and from 

 whom he received many a prudent castigation. 



Quin, (as he is called,) is now four years old, and though 

 he has lost some of his youthful vivacity, is still at times 



exceedingly playful and amusing. He will sometimes fly 

 about the house as if he had lost his senses, tear up and 

 down stairs, and throw himself into the air with the most 

 antic capers. His general deportment, however, is one 

 of much greater gravity; indeed, a considerable portion of 

 his day-time is passed in sleep, to which, like a true Cat, 

 he is deeply addicted. His disposition in the main is 

 very sociable; and if strangers come into the house, he is 

 not satisfied until he has walked round them, and made 

 his examination. Any object, indeed, to which he is un- 

 accustomed, undergoes his scrutiny; a new article of fur- 

 niture or clothing immediately attracts his attention, and 

 he enters at once into a close investigation. He takes 

 particular delight in inspecting the market basket, and 

 although he does not venture to meddle too closely with 

 its contents, he exhibits more or less pleasure according 

 as they happen to agree with his taste. He is somewhat 

 of an epicure, and has his fancies in eating as well as other 

 things. Salt meats he rejects; but fresh fish and oysters, 

 especially the latter^ afford him peculiar pleasure. Almost 

 any kind of fresh meat will satisfy him, but he prefers 

 poultry, which he will devour either raw or cooked. He 

 has also a strange partiality for the batter of buckwheat 

 cakes; but in the gratification of his palate exhibits an in- 

 structive lesson of moderation, never eating after his ap- 

 appetite is satisfied, however dainty may be the food. 



Like most of his species, Quin has a great fondness for 

 heat. In winter his delight is to toast himself on the rug 

 before the grate, where he will endure its effects to a great 

 degree; and in summer he will bask in the sun, (frequent- 

 ly lying on the back of his head, with his nose upward,) 

 until his black coat has imbibed what appears to me a 

 most uncomfortable quantum of warmth. The hot days 

 of this August, however, have driven him to the shade 

 of certain bushes in the garden, under which he seeks shel- 

 ter from the noonday sun. Here he receives frequent 

 visits from divers wasps and humble bees, with which he 

 sometimes maintains a determined warfare. I do not 

 know how he manages to prevent them from stinging him; 

 but when they do not voluntarily abandon the field, he 

 mostly comes off victorious, and ends the combat by 

 making a meal, (a light one to be sure,) of the vanquished 

 enemy. 



He has a remarkable aversion to persons of colour; and 

 if any such are employed about the house, he will gene- 

 rally betake himself to the garret, and keep in seclusion 

 as long as they remain. He sometimes requires to be 

 won from his retreat by the voice of some one to whom 

 he is attached, calling him by name, to which, in general, 

 he readily answers. I do not recollect to have noticed 

 any other example of this peculiar dislike in the Cat, or 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



animals of the Cat kind. From what it may arise in this 

 instance, I am entirely at a loss to determine. 



We have heard a great deal about the treacherous and 

 unkindly disposition of the Cat, but I am inclined to think 

 it is most generally the result of ill usage. I have been in 

 tlie habit of playing with Quin, and often somewhat rough- 

 ly, more especially when he was younger and more vola- 

 tile; and though he has sometimes laid violent paws on 

 me, I believe he never gave me an intentional scratch, 

 unless when I happened to hurt him, and frequently not 

 even then. I have repeatedly suffered him, besides, to take 

 my hand into his mouth; and although he has often bitten 

 it playfully with considerable force, yet I think he never 

 drew blood, nor used his teeth upon me except with the 

 most harmless motives. To children visiting the house, 

 he has generally exhibited a peculiar partiality, and has 

 sometimes played hide and seek with them, almost as 

 knowingly as the little romps themselves. 



This, however, may perhaps be deemed a merely nega- 

 tive quality; but he has sometimes shown what I am dis- 

 posed to call a positive kind of affection. He frequently 

 meets me as I leave my chamber in the morning, and in 

 his peculiar way, which is to be sure somewhat odd and 

 uncouth, endeavours to show his pleasure and regard. On 

 one occasion, when one of the female domestics, for whom 

 he had a great partiality, was sick, he made his way into 

 her chamber, and finding her on the bed, raised himself 

 up at her side by his fore paws, as if to inquire why she 

 was there. Though not generally fond of being nursed, 

 he sometimes becomes exceedingly loving, and will insist 

 on nestling in the lap of some one of his favourites about 

 the house. From all I have been enabled to observe, I 

 am therefore inclined to the belief, that, although the Do- 

 mestic Cat does not afford so decided an exhibition of 

 ildelity and affection as is frequently observed in the cha- 

 racter of the dog species, it is not, nevertheless, so entire- 

 ly devoid of all kindly feeling and attachment as is some- 

 times uncharitably supposed. I imagine that good and 

 gentle treatment will in the main be found to produce the 

 same result of gratitude and regard in both, though most 

 probably not precisely in an equal degree. The character 

 of the one animal for fidelity is established, while that of 

 the other is calumniated for the reputed want of it, and 

 this very circumstance may have considerable effect in 

 developing the disposition for which they are respectively 

 praised and censured. 



The desultory remarks here thrown together are heartily 

 at your service, if you think a few occasional observa- 

 tions of the habits and manners of an individual cal- 

 culated in any measure to elucidate the character of the 



kind. 



W. 



A FOUNTAIN OF PETROLEUM, CALLED THE 

 OIL SPRING. 



By Professor Sillijian. 



The Oil Spring, as it is called, is situated in the west- 

 ern part of the county of Alleghany, in the State of New- 

 York. This county is the third from Lake Erie, on the 

 south line of the state — the counties of Cataraugus and 

 Chatauquc lying west and forming the south-western ter- 

 mination of the State of New-York: the Spring is very 

 near the line which divides Alleghany and Cataraugus. 



Being in the county of Alleghany, I was indebted to 

 the kindness of a friend, who, on the 6th of September, 

 took me from Angelica to the Spring. After crossing the 

 Genesee River, our ride was to the town of Friendship, 

 six miles; then to Cuba, eight miles; and thence, into the 

 township of Hinsdale, three and a half miles; making se- 

 venteen and a half miles from Belvidere, the scat of Philip 

 Church, Esq., and twenty-one miles from Angelica vil- 

 lage. The place will be found, without difficult}', by 

 taking a guide at Hick's tavern, which is on the corner 

 of the road from Cuba, where it is intersected by the 

 road to Warsaw, two miles west of Cuba. The last half 

 mile is in the forest; a road is cut, for the greater part of 

 the way, through the woods, but the path becomes, finally, 

 an obscure foot track, in which a stranger, without a guide, 

 might easily lose his way, or at least fail of finding the 

 object of his search. 



The country is rather mountainous, but the road run- 

 ning between the ridges is very good, and leads through a 

 cultivated region, rich in soil and picturesque in its scene- 

 ry. Its geological character is the same with that which 

 is known to prevail in this western region; a siliceous 

 sandstone, with shale and in some places limestone, is the 

 immediate basis of the country; the sandstone and shale, 

 (the limestone I did not see,) lie in nearly horizontal 

 strata; the sandstone is usually of a light gray colour, and 

 both it and the shale abound with entrocites, encrinites, 

 corallines, terebratulas, and other reliquijE characteristic 

 of the ancient secondary or transition formation. 



The Oil Spring or fountain rises in the midst of a marshy 

 ground; it is a muddy and dirty pool, of about eighteen 

 feet in diameter, and it is nearly circular in form. There 

 is no outlet above ground — no stream flowing from it, and 

 it is of course a stagnant water, with no other circulation 

 than that which springs from changes of temperature, and 

 from the gas and petroleum which are constantly rising 

 through the pool. 



We were told that the odour of petroleum is perceived, 

 at a distance, in approaching the Spring; this may, not 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



improbably, be true, in particular states of the wind, but 

 we did not distinguish any peculiar smell until we arrived 

 on the edge of the fountain. Here, its peculiar character 

 becomes very obvious. The water is covered with a thin 

 layer of the petroleum or mineral oil, giving it a foul ap- 

 pearance, as if coated with dirty molasses, having a yel- 

 lowish brown colour. Every part of the water was cover- 

 ed by this film, but it had no where the iridescence which 

 I recollect to have observed at St. Catharine's well, a pe- 

 troleum fountain near Edinburgh, in Scotland; there the 

 water was pellucid, and the hues, produced by the oil, 

 were brilliant, giving the whole a beautiful appearance: 

 the difference is, however, easily accounted for; St. Catha- 

 rine's well is a livel}^, flowing fountain, and the quantity 

 of petroleum is only suiScient to cover it partially, while 

 there is nothing to soil the stream; in the present instance, 

 the stagnation of the water, the comparative abundance of 

 the petroleum, and the mixture of leaves and sticks, and 

 other productions of a dense forest, preclude any beautiful 

 features. There are, however, upon this water, hei-e and 

 there, spots of what seems to be a purer petroleum, proba- 

 bly recently risen, which is free from mixture, and which 

 has a bright brownish yellow appearance, — lively and 

 sparkling: were the fountain covered, entirely, with this 

 purer production, it would be beautiful. 



We were informed, that when the fountain is frozen, 

 there is always some air-holes left open, and that in these 

 the petroleum collects in unusual abundance and purity, 

 having, distinctly, the beautiful appearance which has just 

 been mentioned as now occurring, here and there, upon 

 the water. The cause of this is easily understood; the 

 petroleum being then protected, by the ice, from the im- 

 purities, which, at other times, fall into it, thus escapes 

 contamination, and being directed to the air-holes, both 

 by its levity and by the gas which mixes with it, it there 

 collects in greater quantitj'' and purity. All the sticks and 

 leaves, and the ground itself around the fountain, are now 

 rendered, more or less, adhesive, by the petroleum; and 

 the rods and paddles which are used in the water, cannot 

 be touched, without covering the hands ^vith a tar-like 

 coating. 



They collect the petroleum by skimming it, like cream 

 from a milk pan; for this purpose, they use a broad flat 

 board, made thin at one edge, like a knife; it is moved 

 flat upon, and just under the surface of the water, and is 

 soon covered by a coating of the petroleum, which is so 

 thick and adhesive that it does not fall off, but is removed 

 by scraping the instrument upon the lip of a cup. It has 

 then a very foul appearance, like very dirty tar or molas- 

 ses, but it is purified by beating it and straining it, while 

 hot, through flannel or other woolen stuff. It is used, by 

 D D d 



the people of the vicinity, for sprains and rheumatism, and 

 for sores on their horses, it being, in both cases, rubbed 

 upon the part. It is not monopolized by any one, but is 

 carried away freel)', by all who care to collect it, and for 

 this purpose the Spring is frequently visited. I could not 

 ascertain how much is annually obtained; the quantity 

 must be considerable. It is said to rise more abundantly 

 in hot weather than in cold. Gas is constantly escaping 

 through the water, and appears in bubbles upon its 

 surface; it becomes much more abundant and rises in 

 large volumes whenever the mud at the bottom is stirred 

 by a pole. We had no means of collecting or of firing it, 

 but there can be no doubt that it is the carburetted hydro- 

 gen — probably the lighter kind, but rendered heavier and 

 more odorous by holding a portion of the petroleum in 

 solution; whenever it is examined we should of course ex- 

 pect to find carbonic acid gas mingled with it and not im- 

 probably azote or nitrogen. We could not learn that any 

 one had attempted to fire the gas, as it rises, or to kindle 

 the film of petroleum upon the water: it might form a 

 striking night experiment. 



We were told that an intoxicated Indian had fallen into 

 the pool and been drowned, many years ago, and that his 

 body had never been recovered; others doubted the truth 

 of the story. Were it true, it would be a curious inquiry 

 whether the antiseptic properties of the petroleum, (so 

 well exemplified in the Egp3^tian mummies,) may not have 

 preserved this body from putrefaction. 



The history of this Spring is not distinctly known: the 

 Indians were well acquainted with it, and a square mile 

 around it is still reserved for the Senecas. As to the geo- 

 logical origin of the Spring, it can scarcely admit of a 

 doubt, that it rises from beds of bituminous coal, below; 

 at what depth we know not, but probably far down; the 

 formation is doubtless connected with the bituminous coal 

 of the neighbouring counties of Pennsylvania and of the 

 west, rather than with the anthracite beds of the central 

 parts of Pennsylvania. 



A branch of the Oil Creeji, which flows into the Alle- 

 gany River, a principal tributary of the Ohio, passes near 

 this Spring, and we crossed the rivulet in going to it; thus 

 we had the pleasure of seeing water that was on its way to 

 New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico: we had just passed 

 the Genesee, which flows into Lake Ontario, and is thus 

 seeking the Atlantic through the St. Lawrence; and a little 

 east, rise waters which flow to the Susquehannah and 

 the Chesapeake Bay, and thus this elevated land, (said to 

 be one thousand five hundred feet above the ocean level,} 

 is a grand rain shed, for the supply of rivers, seeking their 

 exit through very remote and opposite parts of the con- 

 tinent. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 



I cannot learn that any considerable part of the large 

 quantities of petroleum used in the eastern states, under 

 the name of Seneca oil, comes from the Spring now de- 

 scribed. I am assured that its source is about one hun- 

 dred miles from Pittsburgh, on the Oil Creek, which 

 empties into the Allegany River in the township and 

 county of Venango. It exists there in great abundance, 

 and rises in purity to the surface of the water; by dams, 

 enclosing certain parts of the river or creek, it is prevent- 

 ed from flowing away, and it is absorbed by blankets, 

 from which it is wrung. Although I have this statement 

 from an eye witness,* still it would be an interesting ser- 

 vice, claiming a grateful acknowledgment, if some gen- 

 tleman in the vicinity of the petroleum, or at Pittsburgh, 

 would furnish an account of it for this or some similar 

 journal; and as there are numerous Springs of this mineral 

 oil in various regions of the west and south-west, connect- 

 ed especially with the saline and bituminous coal forma- 

 tions, it would promote the cause of science, if notices of 

 any of them were forwarded for publication. 



The petroleum, sold in the eastern states, under the 

 name of Seneca oil, is of a dark brown colour, between 

 that of tar and molasses, and its degree of consistence is not 

 dissimilar, according to the temperature; its odour is strong 

 and too well known to need description. 



I have frequently distilled it in a glass retort, and the 

 naptha which collects in the receiver is of a light straw 

 colour, and much lighter, more odorous and inflammable 

 than the petroleum; in the first distillation, a little water 

 usually rests in the receiver, at the bottom of the naptha; 

 from this, it is easily decanted, and a second distillation 

 prepares it perfectly for preserving potassium and sodium, 

 the object which has led me to distil it, and these metals 

 I have kept under it (as others have done) for years; 

 eventually they acquire some oxygen, from or through 

 the naptha, and the exterior portion of the metal returns, 

 slowly, to the condition of alkali — more rapidly, if the 

 stopper is not tight. 



The petroleum remaining from the distillation, is thick 

 like pitch; if the distillation has been pushed far, the re- 

 siduum will flow only languidly in the retort, and in cold 

 weather it becomes a soft solid, resembling much the mal- 

 tha or mineral pitch. 



The famous lake of maltha and petroleum, in the island 

 of Trinidad, is well known: I have specimens from that 

 place, in all the conditions between fluid, petroleum and 

 firm pitch. It is unnecessary to repeat, that the English 

 use it on their ships of war, as a substitute for tar and pitch, 



• Mr. Ovid Hard, stage proprietor, of Rncliester, N. Y., wlio mention- 

 ed Mr. J. L. Chase, residing on tlie Oil Creek, Venango County, Pcnn., 

 as a genlleinan from whom exact information may be obtained. 



and that the bituminous mass in the natural lake, (which 

 covers several square miles,) is suflBciently tenacious to 

 support a man, during the colder part of the year, but at 

 the opposite season is too soft to sustain any considerable 

 weight. 



In alluding to the probable connexion, with bituminous 

 coal, of the Oil Spring named at the head of this notice, I 

 did not mean to imply that petroleum and other bitumin- 

 ous substances necessarily prove, that there is coal beneath ; 

 for it has been ascertained that bitumen exists, in a limit- 

 ed degree, in many minerals, as appears from some of the 

 phenomena of volcanos, and was proved experimentally 

 b)' the late Hon. George Knox, in an extensive series of 

 researches, published in the Philosophical Transactions of 

 London. As regards the probability of finding coal, the 

 opinion should be thus modified; if the country on whose 

 waters, or in whose rocks, petroleum or other varieties of 

 bitumen appear, is such an one as, in its geological struc- 

 ture, is consistent with the usual associations of coal, then 

 the existence of bitumen, especially if it be abundant, and 

 more especiall)' if the rocks themselves are impregnated 

 with it, affords a strong presumption in favour of the ex- 

 istence of coal beneath. Such is the fact in this part 

 of the State of New-York. The shale at Geneseo 

 is highly bituminous and burns readily, with abundant 

 flame. I cannot answer for the rocks in the immediate 

 vicinity of the Oil Spring, as they are not in view. The 

 people have dug a few feet for coal at the distance of a 

 few yards from the Spring; the excavation is too shallow 

 to decide any thing, except that the petroleum rose in this 

 place also, as the Spring, thus proving, that the bitumin- 

 ous impregnation is not peculiar to that spot. 



If these remarks should excite any interest in the minds 

 of landed proprietors in that vicinit}', I would venture to 

 suggest to them, that it would not be wise, without more 

 evidence, to proceed to sink shafts; for they would be very 

 expensive and might be fruitless. It would be much wiser, 

 to bore; which would enable them, at a comparatively 

 moderate expense, to ascertain the existence, depth and 

 thickness of the coal, should it exist; but, even this should 

 not be done without a previous diligent examination of 

 water courses, banks, precipices, excavations for wells, 

 cellars, roads, &c., which might perhaps materially aid 

 the inquiry. The well known existence of bituminous 

 coal beds at the distance of a few miles in Pennsylvania, 

 renders it highly probable that they may pass under this 

 region, but perhaps at too great a depth to admit of profit- 

 able extraction; for the abundance of coal in other parts of 

 Pennsylvania and the west; — the magnitude and easy ac- 

 cessibleness of the beds, and the excellence of the coal, 

 will long render it impossible that thin beds, in other 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



199 



parts of the country, especially if lying deep in the ground, 

 should be wrought without ruinous expenditure. 



It is worthy of remark, that the cattle drink, freely, of 

 the waters of the Oil Springs, a fact which we should hard- 

 ly expect, since they are so foul, and since there is abund- 

 ance of pure water near; and also because we should ex- 

 pect that the petroleum would render the water very dis- 

 gusting to animals; perhaps they may find in this fountain, 

 something of the reputed virtues of tar water; I could not 

 learn that birds ever light upon or near the Spring; the 

 mephtic gases might, perhaps, make it a real Avernus, to 

 them. 



The present depth of the Petroleum Spring is but a few 

 feet. It is scarcely necessary to add, that, in accordance 

 with the usual state of popular impression in similar cases, 

 it is confidently asserted here, that the Oil Spring, was, 

 when first known, literally a bottomless pit; we may, 

 however, safely conclude, that it was then much deeper 

 than at present. When I asked a plain man, in the vici- 

 nity, how he imagined it was first formed, he replied, that 

 he belie', ed the gas-air, (as he called it,) blew up the 

 ground at a time when the fountain first rose, and thatthe 

 flow of water and gas had preserved it ever since, although 

 it had been greatly filled and clogged by earth and other 

 substances, falling or thrown into the cavity. I shall not 

 attempt to substitute any theory of my own, for this indi- 

 genous hypothesis, of an uninstructed man, who certainly 

 reasoned ingeniously, if not conclusively. I presume he 

 liad never heard either of Pluto or Neptune, and therefore 

 drew his conclusions from his own mind and not fiom any 

 geological theory. — Silli»ian's Journal. 



BIG BONE LICK, KENTUCKY. 



No place, perhaps, in the western country, is so inter- 

 esting to the geologist, as Big Bone Lick, in Kentucky. 

 This wonderful spot is a small valley situated twenty 

 miles south-west of Cincinnati, and two from the Ohio 

 river. In a number of places, the ground is so soft for 

 several rods, that a pole may, with ease, be thrust down 

 many feet. In these soft places, saline and sulphurous 

 mineral waters arise.* The earth around these places is 

 dry and solid. 



The ground for several rods around these springs, is en- 

 tirely without vegetation, owing to the salt with which 



* The waters are beneficial to health; but the place is not nmcli re- 



it is impregnated; and a manufactory of salt was formerly 

 established here, but it is now discontinued. 



This was formerly the rendezvous of vast herds of quad- 

 rupeds. Their trails, when the country was first settled, 

 extended from the Lick, for miles in several directions, 

 like the roads from a metropolis. Vast numbers of these 

 quadrupeds perished in the quagmire; some probably were 

 slain in battles of emulation and ferocity, and many more 

 were destroyed by carnivorous animals. Here are now 

 found the bones of the mastodon, elephant, buffalo, elk, 

 and of other, and now unknown animals; they are in im- 

 mense quantities — it is a complete charnel-house. The 

 bones are generally under ground, and so numerous that 

 you cannot dig a hole, to the depth at which they are 

 usually found, without striking them. They are, how- 

 ever, generally bones of the buffalo. 



On the east side of a rivulet that runs near the principal 

 spring they lie in a horizontal stratum, three feet below 

 the surface where the ground is lowest, and eleven, where 

 the ground is eight feet higher. As the ground is dry and 

 solid over this stratum, it cannot be supposed that the 

 bones have sunk tlirough to its present level. Their posi- 

 tion also excludes such a supposition, each bone lying hori- 

 zontally, and the stratum also being horizontal. If the 

 bones had descended when the ground was soft, it cannot 

 be supposed that they would have arranged themselves 

 into a horizontal stratum irrespective of the unevenness of 

 the ground, and of the various depths, three and eleven 

 feet, necessary to attain this horizontal range. It is there- 

 fore evident, that this part of the valley was level when 

 these bones were deposited, that they lay on the surface 

 and were subsequently covered with earth. As thej'- have 

 been covered without being displaced, or the horizontal 

 position of each bone, or of the stratum, disturbed, the 

 only admissible supposition is, that the}' have been cover- 

 ed by an inundation. They must have been long accumu- 

 lating; for there has been no accumulation since that event, 

 which bears any comparison for quantity, with tliose thus 

 imbedded. The inference also seems warranted, that 

 quadrupeds have never been equal, either in number or 

 variety, since that inundation, to what they were previous- 

 ly to it. As many of these bones are in a good state of 

 preservation, we are led to conclude that the water has re- 

 tired from the valley of the Mississippi at a later period, 

 than it has from the Atlantic States: for although it is ca- 

 pable of demonstration, that these states have been inun- 

 dated, j-et the facts which constitute that demonstration, 

 indicate also an earlier period. 



The foregoing discussion relates to a part only of this 

 valley; for the ground on the opposite side of the rivulet, 

 is higher and presents a difierent class of phenomena. 




200 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



There the bones lie at promiscuous depths, without any 

 stratification. We must, therefore, suppose that some 

 other agent, than an inundation with its deposits, hascon- 

 ti-ibuted to the latter phenomena. 



It may excite surprise, that these bones, which have 

 Iain here a thousand years, and perliaps thousands of years, 

 should yet be in a state of entire preservation. But when 

 it is recollected, that the earth here is strongly impreg- 

 nated with salt, and when it is stated, that many of these 

 bones arc now entirely petrified, that surprise will be 

 diminished. 



Only a small part of the earth which contains these fos- 

 sils, has yet been dug over. For centuries to come, these 

 enormous bones, which have been the wonder of natural- 

 ists, will still be found. 



Captain Phinnel, who keeps the boarding-house in this 

 watering place, informed the writer, that he found within 

 a space not more than six feet square, at the depth of 

 three feet, thirty-two grinder-teeth of the mastodon and 

 elephant, one of which, he said, weighed fourteen pounds. 

 TUiey were all at one depth, and were supposed to have 

 been collected in that spot, as they have never been found 

 numerous in any other. 



In the possession of that gentleman, I saw a large bone, 

 twenty-six inches in length, and weighing about sixteen 

 pounds, entirely petrified, which has never belonged to 

 any of the mastodon or elephant species, but to some ani- 

 mal now unknown. It has been part of the leg of a quad- 

 rupid, between the knee and the pastern joints. It re- 

 sembled in shape the bone of a hare, except being larger 

 in proportion to its length. The quadruped to which it 

 belonged was eleven feet high. — Ibid. 



THE VALLEY OF DEATH, IN THE ISLAND OF 

 JAVA. 



By a. Loudon, Esq. 



]My Dear Sir, — The following is an extract from my 

 journal of a tour through the Islands of Java and Madara 

 last year: — 



" Bulor, 3d July, 1S30. — This evening, while walking 

 round the village with the Patteh (native chief,) he told 

 me that there is a valley three miles from Balor, that no 

 person could approach without forfeiting their lives, and 

 that the skeletons of human beings, and all sorts of beasts 

 and birds, covered the bottom of the valley. I mentioned 

 this to the Commandant Mr. Van Spreewenberg, and pro- 

 posed our going to see it; Mr. Daendels, the assistant- 



resident, agreed to go with us. At this time I did not 

 credit all that the Javanese Chief told me. I knew that 

 there was a lake close to this, that it was dangerous to ap- 

 proach too near, but I had never heard of the Valley of 

 Death. 



"Balor, Ith July. — Early this morning we made an 

 excursion to the extraordinary valley, called by the na- 

 tives Giiwo Upas, or Poisoned Valley: it is three miles 

 from Balor, on the road to the Djiang. Mr. Daendels 

 had ordered a footpath to be made from the main road to 

 the valley. We took with us two dogs and some fowls, 

 to try experiments in this poisonous hollow. On arriving 

 at the foot of the mountain, we dismounted and scrambled 

 up the side, about a quarter of a mile, holding on by the 

 branches of trees, and we were a good deal fatigued before 

 we got up the path, being very steep and slippery, from 

 the fall of rain during the night. W^hen within a few 

 yards of the valley we experienced a strong nauseous suf- 

 focating smell, but, on coming close to the edge, this disa- 

 greeable smell left us. We were now all lost in astonish- 

 ment at the awful scene before us. The valley appeared 

 to be about half a mile in circumference, oval, and the 

 depth from 30 to 35 feet, the bottom quite flat, — no vege- 

 tation, — some very large, in appearance, river-stones, and 

 the whole covered with the skeletons of human beings, 

 tigers, pigs, deer, peacocks, and all sorts of birds. We 

 could not perceive any vapour or any opening in the 

 ground, which last appeared to be of a hard sandy sub- 

 stance. The sides of the valley from the top to the bot- 

 tom are covered with trees, shrubs, &c. It was now pro- 

 posed by one of the party to enter the valley; but at the 

 spot where we were, this was difficult, at least for me, as 

 one false step would have brought us to eternity, as no 

 assistance could be given. We lighted our cigars, and, . 

 with the assistance of a bamboo, we went down within IS 

 feet of the bottom. Here we did not experience any diffi- 

 culty in breathing, but an offensive nauseous smell annoy- 

 ed us. We now fastened a dog to the end of a bamboo, IS 

 feet long, and sent him in; we had our watches in our 

 hands, and in 14 seconds he fell on his back, did not move 

 his limbs or look round, but continued to breathe IS 

 minutes. We then sent in another, or rather he got loose 

 from the bamboo, but walked in to where the other dog 

 was lying: he then stood quite still, and in 10 seconds he 

 fell on his face, and never moved his limbs afterwards: 

 he continued to breathe for 7 minutes. We now tried a 

 fowl, which died in 1* minute. We threw in another, 

 which died before touching the ground. During these ex- 

 periments we experienced a heavy shower of rain; but we 

 were so interested by the awful scene before us, that we 

 did not care for getting wet. On the opposite side, near 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



a large stone, was the skeleton of a human being, who 

 must have perished on his back, with the right arm under 

 the head, from being exposed to the weather, the bones 

 were bleached as white as ivory. I was anxious to pro- 

 cure this skeleton, but any attempt to get at it would have 

 been madness. After remaining two hours in this Valley 

 of Death, we returned, but found some difficulty in getting 

 out. From the heavy shower, the sides of the valley were 

 very slippery, and had it not been for two Javanese be- 

 hind us, we might have found it no easy matter to escape 

 from this pestilential spot. On reaching our rendezvous 

 we had some brandy and water, and left this most extra- 

 ordinary valley, came down the slippery footpath, some- 

 times on our hams and hands to the main road, mounted 

 our horses, and returned to Balor, quite pleased with our 

 trip. The human skeletons are supposed to have been 

 rebels, who had been pursued from the main road, and 

 taken refuge in the different valleys, as a wanderer cannot 

 know his danger till he is in the valley, and when once 

 there, one has not the power or presence of mind to return. 



" There is a great difference between this valley and the 

 Grotto del Cano, near Naples, where the air is confined 

 to a small aperture; while here the circumference is fully 

 half a mile, and not the least smell of sulphur, nor any 

 appearance of an eruption ever having taken place near it, 

 although I am aware that the whole chain of mountains is 

 volcanic, as there are two craters at no great distance from 

 the side of the road at the foot of the Djienz, and they 

 constantly emit smoke." — Fahr. 52° 



" In the 8th volume of the proceedings of the Batavian 

 Society of Arts and Sciences, Dr. Horsefield of the East 

 India House, gives a description of the mineral constitu- 

 tion of the different mountains of Java. He examined 

 several parts of the chain of hills, and states that he heard 

 of this valley, but that he could not prevail on the natives 

 to show him where it was. I have sent the Doctor a 

 copy of the above extract." — Edin. Phil. Jour. 



THE COUGAR. 



There is an extensive Swamp in the section of the 

 State of Mississippi, which lies partly in the Choctaw ter- 

 ritory. It commences at the borders of the Mississippi, 

 at no great distance from a Chicasaw village, situated near 

 the mouth of a creek known by the name of Vanconnah, 

 and partly inundated by the swellings of several large 

 bayous, the principal of which, crossing the swamp in its 

 whole extent, discharges its waters not far from the mouth 

 of the Yazoo River. This famous bayou is called False 

 Ee e 



River. The swamp of which I am speaking follows the 

 windings of the Yazoo, until the latter branches off" to the 

 north-east, and at this point forms the stream named Cold 

 Water River, below which the Yazoo receives the drain- 

 ing of another bayou inclining towards the north-west, 

 and intersecting that known by the name of False River, 

 at a short distance from the place where the latter receives 

 the waters of the Mississippi. This tedious account of the 

 situation of the swamp, is given with the view of pointing 

 it out to all students of nature who may chance to go that 

 way, and whom I would earnestly urge to visit its interior, 

 as it abounds in rare and interesting productions: birds, 

 quadrupeds and reptiles, as well as molluscous animals, 

 many of which, I am persuaded, have never been de- 

 scribed. 



In the course of one of my rambles, I chanced to meet 

 with a squatter's cabin on the banks of the Cold Water 

 River. In the owner of this hut, like most of those ad- 

 venturous settlers in the uncultivated tracts of our frontier 

 districts, I found a person well versed in the chase, and 

 acquainted with the habits of some of the larger species 

 of quadrupeds and birds. As he who is desirous of instruc- 

 tion ought not to disdain listening to any one who has 

 knowledge to communicate, however humble may be his 

 lot, or however limited his talents, I entered the squatter's 

 cabin, and immediately opened a conversation with him 

 respecting the situation of the swamp, and its natural pro- 

 ductions. He told me he thought it the very place I 

 ought to visit, spoke of the game which it contained, and 

 pointed to some bear and deer skins, adding that the indi- 

 viduals to which they had belonged formed but a small por- 

 tion of the number of those animals which he had shot 

 within it. My heart swelled with delight, and on asking 

 if he would accompany me through the great morass, and 

 allow me to become an inmate of his humble but hospita- 

 ble mansion, I was gratified to find that he cordially as- 

 sented to all my proposals. So I immediately unstrapped 

 my drawing materials, laid up my gun, and sat down to 

 partake of the homely but wholesome fare intended for 

 the supper of the squatter, his wife, and his two sons. 



The quietness of the evening seemed in perfect accord- 

 ance with the gentle demeanour of the family. The wife 

 and children, I more than once thought, seemed to look 

 upon me as a strange sort of person, going about, as I told 

 them I was, in search of birds and plants; and were I here 

 to relate the many questions which they put to me in re- 

 turn for those which I addressed to them, the catalogue 

 would occupy several pages. The husband, a native of 

 Connecticut, had heard of the existence of such men as 

 myself, both in our own country and abroad, and seemed 

 greatly pleased to have me under his roof. Supper over. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



I asked my kind host what had induced him to remove to 

 this wild and solitary spot. " The people are growing too 

 numerous now to thrive in New-England," was his an- 

 swer. I thought of the state of some parts of Europe, and 

 calculating the denseness of their population compared 

 with that of New England, exclaimed to myself, " How 

 much more difficult must it be for men to thrive in those 

 populous countries!" The conversation then changed, and 

 the squatter, his sons and myself, spoke of hunting and 

 fishing, until at length tired, we laid ourselves down on 

 pallets of bear skins, and reposed in peace on the floor of 

 the only apartment of which the hut consisted. 



Day dawned, and the squatter's call to his hogs, which, 

 being almost in a wild state, were suffered to seek the 

 greater portion of their food in the woods, awakened me. 

 Being ready dressed, I was not long in joining him. The 

 hogs and their young came grunting at the well known 

 call of their owner, who threw them a few ears of corn, 

 and counted them, but told me that for some weeks their 

 number had been greatly diminished by the ravages com- 

 mitted upon them by a large Panther, by which name 

 the Cougar is designated in America, and that the raven- 

 ous animal did not content himself with the flesh of his 

 pigs, but now and then carried off one of his calves, not- 

 withstanding the many attempts he had made to shoot it. 

 The Painter, as he sometimes called it, had on several 

 occasions robbed l}im of a dead deer; and to these exploits 

 the squatter added several remarkable feats of audacity 

 which it had performed, to give me an idea of the formi- 

 dable character of the beast. Delighted by his description, 

 I oflered to assist him in destroying the enemy, at which 

 he was highly pleased, but assured me that unless some of 

 his neighbours should join us with their dogs and his own, 

 the attempt would prove fruitless. Soon after, mounting 

 a horse, he went off to his neighbours, several of whom 

 lived at a distance of some miles, and appointed a day of 

 meeting. 



The hunters, accordingly, made their appearance, one 

 fine morning, at the door of the cabin, just as the sun was 

 emerging from beneath the horizon. They were five in 

 number, and fully equipped for the chase, being mounted 

 on horses, which in some parts of Europe might appear 

 sorry nags, but which in strength, speed and bottom, are 

 better fitted for pursuing a cougar or a bear through woods 

 and morasses than any in that country. A pack of large 

 ugly curs were already engaged in making acquaintance 

 with those of the squatter. He and myself mounted his 

 two best horses, whilst his sons were bestriding others of 

 inferior quality. 



Few words were uttered by the party until wc had 

 reached the edge of the Swamp, where it was agreed that 



all should disperse and seek for the fresh track of the 

 Painter, it being previously settled that the discoverer 

 should blow his horn, and remain on the spot until the rest 

 should join him. In less than an hour, the sound of the 

 horn was clearly heard, and, sticking close to the squatter, 

 off we went through the thick woods, guided only by the 

 now and then repeated call of the distant huntsman. We 

 soon reached the spot, and in a short time the rest of the 

 party came up. The best dog was sent forward to track 

 the Cougar, and in a few moments the whole pack were 

 observed diligently trailing, and bearing in their course 

 for the interior of the Swamp. The rifles were immedi- 

 ately put in trim, and the party followed the dogs, at sepa- 

 rate distances, but in sight of each other, determined to 

 shoot at no other game than the Panther. 



The dogs soon began to mouth, and suddenly quickened 

 their pace. My companion concluded that the beast was 

 on the ground, and putting our horses to a gentle gallop, 

 we followed the curs, guided by their voices. The noise 

 of the dogs increased, when all of a sudden their mode of 

 barking became altered, and the squatter, urging me to 

 push on, told me that the beast was treed, by which he 

 meant that it had got upon some low branch of a large tree 

 to rest for a few moments, and that should we not succeed 

 in shooting him when thus situated, we might expect a 

 long chase of it. As we approached the spot, we all by 

 degrees united into a body, but on seeing the dogs at the 

 foot of a large tree, sejoarated again and galloped off to 

 surround it. 



Each hunter now moved with caution, holding his gun 

 ready, and allowing the bridle to dangle on the neck of 

 his horse, as it advanced slowly towards the dogs. A shot 

 from one of the party was heard, on which the Cougar 

 was seen to leap to the ground, and bound off with such 

 velocity, as to show that he was very unwilling to stand 

 our fire longer. The dogs set off in pursuit with great 

 eagerness and a deafening cry. The hunter who had fired 

 came up and said that his ball had hit the monster, and had 

 probably broken one of his fore-legs near the shoulder, 

 the only place at which he could aim. A slight trail of 

 blood was discovered on the ground, but the curs proceed- 

 ed at such a rate that we merely noticed this, and put 

 spurs to our horses, which galloped on towards the centre 

 of the Swamp. One bayou was crossed, then another still 

 larger and more muddy; but the dogs were brushing for- 

 ward, and as the horses began to pant at a furious rate, we 

 judged it expedient to leave them and advance on foot. 

 These determined hunters knew that the Cougar being 

 wounded, would shortly ascend another tree, where in all 

 probability he would remain for a considerable time, and 

 that it would be easv to follow the track of the dogs. We 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



203 



dismounted, took off the saddles and bridles, set tlie bells 

 attached to the horses' necks at liberty to jingle, hoppled 

 tlie animals, and left them to shift for themselves. 



Now, reader, follow the group marching through the 

 Swamp, crossing muddy pools, and making tlie best of 

 their way over fallen trees and amongst the tangled rushes 

 that now and then covered acres of ground. If you are 

 a hunter yourself, all this will appear nothing to you; but 

 if crowded assemblies of "beauty and fashion," or the 

 quiet enjoyment of your "pleasure-grounds," alone de- 

 light you, I must mend my pen before I attempt to give 

 you an idea of the pleasure felt on such an expedition. 



After inarching for a couple of hours we again heard 

 the dogs. Each of us pressed forward, elated at the 

 thought of terminating the career of the Cougar. Some 

 of the dogs were heard whining, although the greater 

 number barked vehemently. We felt assured that the 

 Cougar was treed, and that he would rest for sometime to 

 recover from his fatigue. As we came up to the dogs, 

 we discovered the ferocious animal lying across a large 

 branch, close to the trunk of a cotton-wood tree. His 

 broad breast lay towards us; his eyes were at one time 

 bent on us and again on the dogs beneath and around him; 

 one of his fore-legs hung loosely by his side, and he lay 

 crouched, with his ears lowered close to his head, as if he 

 thought he might remain undiscovered. Three bails were 

 fired at him, at a given signal, on which he sprang a few 

 feet from the branch, and tumbled headlong to the ground. 

 Attacked on all sides bj' the enraged curs, the infuriated 

 Cougar fought with desperate valour; but the squatter ad- 

 vancing in front of the party, and almost in the midst of 

 the dogs, shot him immediately behind and beneath the 

 left shoulder. The Cougar writhed for a moment in agony, 

 and in another lay dead. 



The sun was now sinking in the west. Two of the 

 liunters separated from the rest, to procure venison, wliilst 

 the squatter's sons were ordered to make the best of their 

 way home, to be ready to feed the hogs in the morning. 

 The rest of the party agreed to camp on the spot. The 

 Cougar was despoiled of its skin, and its carcass left to the 

 hungry dogs. Whilst engaged in preparing our camp, we 

 heard the report of a gun, and soon after one of our hun- 

 ters returned with a small deer. A fire was lighted, and 

 each hunter displayed hispone of bread, along witli a flask 

 of whiskey. The deer was skinned in a trice, and slices 

 placed on sticks before the fire. These materials afforded 

 us an excellent meal, and as the night grew darker, stories 

 and songs went round, until my companions, fatigued, laid 

 themselves down, close under the smoke of tlie fire, and 

 soon fell asleep. 



I walked for some minutes round the camp, to contem- 



plate the beauties of that nature, from which I have cer- 

 tainly derived my greatest pleasures. I thought of the 

 occurrences of the day, and glancing my eye around, re- 

 marked the singular effects produced by the phosphorescent 

 qualities of the large decayed trunks which lay in all di- 

 rections around me. How easy, I thought, would it be 

 for the confused and agitated mind of a person bewildered 

 in a Swamp like this, to imagine in each of these luminous 

 masses some wondrous and fearful being, the very sight of 

 which might make the hair stand erect on his liead. The 

 thought of being myself placed in such a predicament burst 

 over my mind, and I hastened to join my companions, 

 beside whom I laid me down and slept, assured that no 

 enemy could approach us without first arousing the dogs, 

 which were growling in fierce dispute over the remains of 

 the Cougar. 



At daybreak we left our camp, the squatter bearing on 

 his shoulder the skin of the late destroj'er of his stock, and 

 retraced our steps until we found our horses, which had 

 not strayed far from the place where we had left them. 

 These we soon saddled, and jogging along, in a direct 

 course, guided by tlie sun, congratulating each other on 

 the destruction of so formidable a neighbour as the Pan- 

 ther had been, we soon arrived at my host's cabin. The 

 five neighbours partook of such refreshments as the house 

 could afford, and dispersing, returned to their homes, leav- 

 ing me to follow mj^ favourite pursuits. 



INDIAN CORN. 



This grain, so important to the agricultural interests of 

 the United States, appears to be of uncertain origin. 

 Fuchs very early maintained that it came from the east, 

 and Mathioli affirmed tliat it was from America. Regmir 

 and Gregory have presented fresh arguments in favour of 

 its eastern origin. Among them is the name by which it 

 has been long known in Europe, ble de Turquie, and varie- 

 ties, it is said, have been brought from the Isle of France, or 

 from China. Moreau de Jonnes, on the contrary, has re- 

 cently maintained in a memoir read before the Academy 

 of Science, that its origin was in America. The name 

 blc. de Turquie no more proves it to be of Turkish origin 

 than the name of Italian poplar proves that that tree grew 

 wild in Italy. It can only signify that it spread from 

 Turkey into the neighbouring countries. Its general cul- 

 tivation in southern Europe, and the production of some 

 new varieties, proves nothing with regard to the country 

 of the species. 



In favour of its American origin, is the fact tiiat it was 




204 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



found in a state of cultivation in every place where the 

 first navigators landed; in Mexico, according to Hernan- 

 diz, and in Brazil according to Zeri, and that in the vari- 

 ous countries, it had proper names. Such as Maize, 

 Flaolli, fyc. while in the old world its names were either 

 all of American origin, or names of the neighbouring re- 

 gion whence it was immediately derived, and that imme- 

 diately after the discovery of America, it spread rapidly 

 in the old world and soon became common, a fact not re- 

 concilable with the idea of its former existence there. 



To these proofs Aug. de Saint Hilaire has added another. 

 He has received from M. de Larranhaga of Montevideo, 

 a new variety of Maize distinguished by the name of Tu- 

 nicata, because instead of having the grains naked they are 

 entirely covered by the glumes. This variety is from 

 Paraguay, where it is cultivated by the Guaycurus Indians, 

 a people in the lowest scale of civilization, and where, 

 according to the direct testimony of one of them, it grows 

 in the humid forests as a native production. 



{Bib. Univ. Jan. 1830. 



EFFECT OF CERTAIN MINERAL POISONS ON 

 LIVING PLANTS. 



Br Dr. Hare. 



I^- order to destroy the caterpillars which feed upon 

 them so ravenously, I was desirous of ascertaining how far 

 certain poisonous solutions could be introduced into the 

 circulation of plants without injury to them. Having cut 

 off a few twigs from a Linden tree, I introduced a twig, 

 with its leaves attached, into different phials of water, 

 severally impregnated with iron, copper and arsenic; also 

 one into pure water. That introduced into the ferruginous 

 solution, died in about twenty-four hours. The twig ex- 

 posed to the copper lost its proper hue and looked sickly 

 in about two or three days, and finally appeared dead in 

 about five days. Nearly five days had elapsed before the 

 twig in the arsenious acid, although saturated, became sen- 

 sibly injured, and even then it was only changed in colour. 

 During the first three days no difference could be perceived 

 between the leaves of the twig here mentioned and that 

 sustained by pure water. It would appear from tliese ex- 

 periments that metallic solutions are poisonous to a vege- 

 table in the inverse order from that in which they aflect 

 animals, and that small portions of arsenic may be intro- 

 duced into trees, so as to be poisonous to the insects which 

 destroy their foliage. On macerating a leaf of the twig 

 iu the arsenious solution, only about forty-five hours after 



it was introduced into it, the water to which it was sub- 

 jected gave with the ammoniacle nitrate of silver a yellow 

 precipitate, and after five or six days, this experiment being 

 repeated, a copious precipitation ensued, indicating arse- 

 nite of silver. Caterpillars put upon the leaves impreg- 

 nated with the arsenic died in a day or two, excepting one 

 which was too far advanced to eat. These observations in 

 your Journal, so hastily made and described, may need 

 some indulgence from your readers. — SiUiman's Jour. 



QUALITIES OF THE DOG. 



The dog is not only the friend of man, but the de- 

 fender of the oppressed. In the wise order of the creation, 

 this animal seems always to have been designed to be the 

 friend and companion of man, his fellow-traveller, the fol- 

 lower of his fortunes, (and he never deserts him as our 

 fellow man does,) his watch, and the minister to his wants 

 and pleasures, inasmuch as he is essential to the hunter in 

 procuring at once his food and his amusement, and, if al- 

 lowed to plunder, is no bad caterer in time of necessity. 

 So many proofs exist to bear us out in this statement — so 

 many examples of high courage and unshaken fidelity — 

 that it would be superfluous to enlarge upon this subject. 

 We are now about to give a farther proof of the high quali- 

 ties of the dog, by showing him the avenger of wrong 

 and the defender of the oppressed, and that not towards 

 man, his lord and master, his patron and benefactor — him 

 whom he loves and fears, and on whom he depends — but 

 towards one of the brute creation, not of his own species, 

 but of one with which no common animal sympathies 

 could subsist, and which is generally deemed wholly at 

 variance with the canine race; in a word, the Cat. — Not 

 to trespass further on our sporting brothers' time, nor to 

 wear out the indulgence of our reader, we shall simply 

 detail a scene that took place at Liverpool some years 

 back, the proofs of which still exist, together with the liv- 

 ing animals which furnish the following story. 



An ill-fated cat fell into the hands of some juvenile ruf- 

 fians, commencing the first stage of cruelty, which often 

 leads to great crimes and to an ignominious end: the little 

 wretches had passed from cruelty to cruelty, alternately 

 stoning their victim and dragging it through a dirty pool 

 of water, then beating and bruising it, and menacing it 

 with drowning. Bipeds passed by, unheeding the ago- 

 nised animal's cries of distress, which were now nearly 

 coming to a close with its life, when a feeling quadruped 

 came forward to save it. The Dog, having contemplated 

 for some time this scene of inhumanity, and barked his 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



205 



disapprobation thereof, rushed forward upon the young 

 assassins, and, driving them one by one furiously off the 

 spot, sprang to the rescue of the fainting and bleeding ani- 

 mal, and withdrawing it from the deep ditch, bore it off 

 in triumph to his quarters. There, extending it upon 

 straw, and licking it all over, he recalled the vital spark, 

 and then, laying himself down upon it, restored it to some 

 degree of ease from the warmth imparted to it. After 

 this, the kind and feeling Dog fetched provision to his sick 

 charge, and the people of the house, inspired by the ex- 

 ample of the minor animal, gave it warm milk. Day after 

 day did the Dog tend the sick object of his care, until it 

 was perfectly recovered, and they are both to be seen at 

 this day, after a long lapse of years, at the Talbot Inn, 

 Liverpool. — These lessons from the brute creation to him 

 who proudly calls himself the effigy of the Divinity, are 

 humiliating, but may be useful to the many who need 

 them. — London Sporting Magazine. 



THE GANNET. 



PELECANUS BJiSSANUS. 



[Plate XVIII. Vol.3. — Young and adult.] 



Pelecamis Bassanus, Linn. Syst. 217. ^'inser Bassa- 

 nus, Gesner av. 163. Solan Goose Wil. Orn. 32S. 

 Rail Si/7i. av. 122, Martins Voy. St. Kilda, 27, 

 Descript. IVest. Isles, 281. Sula Bassana le Fou de 

 Bassan Brisson av. vi. 503, tah. 44. Jaen. Van 

 Gent. Martinis Spitsberg, 97. Sula. Horeri Chif. 

 ex 367, Hector Boeth. 6. Norregis >S'ule, Hav. — Sul. 

 Brunnich, 124, Pennant, British Zool. Vol. 2. p. 

 518, PL 103, Jrhite's Ed. — J. Doughtt's Collec- 

 tion. 



The Gannet. although a frequent visite*of our sea- 

 sliore, has thus far been unnoticed in American works on 

 ornithology. It is now for the first time pictured in the 

 accompanying plate, and is represented in the young and 

 adult stages of existence. The young Gannet was for a 

 long time mistaken, and described by some naturalists as 

 another species, but lately these errors have been cor- 

 rected. 



The writer has never seen the Gannet in the Philadel- 

 phia markets, but obtained a very fine specimen from 

 New-York, to which place they are often brought for 

 sale, more frequently, however, in the younger state. On 

 the south side of Long Island, in the month of October, 



FFf 



the Gannets appear in numbers, but mostly in company 

 with the velvet and scoter ducks, and come and depart regu- 

 larly with these birds to and from their feeding grounds. 



The Gannet is strong on the wing, especially in windy 

 weather, and is seldom seen inside of the surf, but is most- 

 ly sailing over the waters, in order to discover and strike 

 its prey. This bird is very awkward on foot, in conse- 

 quence of the shortness of the legs and their position; 

 being placed far behind, which necessarily causes the bird 

 to walk nearly upright, like the corvorant; the tail, which 

 extends beyond the feet, is always ragged or worn at the 

 end, by being dragged on the ground by the bird when 

 walking on the beach. For a more ample history and 

 description of the Gannet, the following is selected from 

 Pennant's British Zoology. 



"This species weighs seven pounds: the length is three 

 feet one inch; the breadth six feet two inches. The bill is 

 six inches long, straight almost to the point, where it in- 

 clines down; and the sides are irregularly jagged, that it 

 may hold its prey with more security: about an inch from 

 the base of the upper mandible is a sharp process pointing 

 forward; it has no nostrils; but in their place a long fur- 

 row, that reaches almost to the end of the bill: the whole 

 is of a dirty white, tinged with ash colour. The tongue 

 is very small, and placed low in the mouth: a naked skin 

 of a fine blue surrounds the eyes, which are of a pale yel- 

 low, and are full of vivacity: this bird is remarkable for 

 the quickness of its sight: Martin tells us that Solan is 

 derived from an Irish word expressive of that quality. 



"From the corner of the mouth is a narrow slip of black 

 bare skin, that extends to the hind part of the head: be- 

 neath the chin is another, that like the pouch of the Pele- 

 can, is dilatable, and of size sufficient to contain five or 

 six entire herrings; which, in the breeding season, it 

 carries at once to its mate or young. 



"The neck is very long: the body flat, and very full of 

 feathers: the crown of the head, and a small space on the 

 hind part of the neck is buff coloured: the rest of the plu- 

 mage is white, the bastard wing and greater quill-feather 

 excepted, which are black; the legs and toes are black; 

 but the fore part of both are marked with a stripe of fine 

 pea green. The tail consists of twelve sharp pointed 

 feathers, the middle of which is the longest. 



" The young birds, during the first year, differ greatly 

 in colour from the old ones; beingof adusky hue, speckled 

 with numerous triangular white spots; and at that time 

 resemble in colours the speckled Diver. Each bird, if left 

 undisturbed, would only lay one egg in the year; but if that 

 be taken away, they will lay another; if that is also taken, 

 then a third; but nevermore that season: a wise provi- 

 sion of nature, to prevent the extinction of the species by 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



accidents, and to supply food for the inhabitants of the 

 places where they breed. Their egg is white, and rather 

 less than that of the common goose: the nest is large, and 

 fornied of any thing the bird finds floating on the water, 

 such as grass, sea plants, shavings, &c. These birds fre- 

 quent the Isle of Ailsa, in the Firth of Clyde; the rocks 

 adjacent to St. Kilda, the Stack of Souliskery, near the 

 Orkneys; the Skelig Isles, off the coasts of Kerry Ireland, 

 and the Bass Isle, in the Firth of Edinburgh: the mul- 

 titudes that inhabit these places are prodigious. Dr. Har- 

 vej-'s elegant account of the latter, will serve to give some 

 idea of the numbers of these, and of the other birds that 

 annually migrate to that little spot. 



"There is a small island, called by the Scotch, Bass 

 Island, not more than a mile in circumference; the surface 

 IS almost wholly covered during the months of May and 

 June with nests, eggs, and young birds; so that it is scarce- 

 ly possible to walk without treading on them: and the 

 flocks of birds in flight are so prodigious, as to darken the 

 air like clouds; and their noise is such, that you cannot, 

 without difficult)', hear your next neighbour's voice. If 

 you look down upon the sea, from the top of the preci- 

 pice, you will see it on every side covered with infinite 

 numbers of birds of different kinds, swimming and hunt- 

 ing for their prey: if in sailing round the island you sur- 

 ^■ey the hanging cliffs, you may see in every crag or 

 fissure of the broken rocks, innumerable birds of various 

 sorts and sizes, more than the stars of heaven when view- 

 ed in a serene night: if from afar j-ou see the distant flocks, 

 either flying to or from the island, 3-ou would imagine 

 them to be a vast swarm of bees. 



"Nor do the i-ocks of St. Kilda seem to be less fre- 

 quented by these birds; for Martin assures us, that the in- 

 habitants of that small island consume annually no less 

 than 22,600 young birds of this species, besides an amaz- 

 ing quantity of their eggs; these being their principal sup- 

 port throughout the year; they preserve both eggs and 

 fowls in small pyramidal stone buildings, covering them 

 with turf ashes, to preserve them from moisture. This is 

 a dear bought food, earned at the hazard of their lives, 

 either by climbing the most difficult and narrow paths, 

 where (to appearance) they can barely cling, and that too, 

 at an amazing height over the raging sea: or else being 

 lowered down from above, they collect their annual pro- 

 vision, thus hanging in mid way air; placing their whole 

 dependence on the uncertain footing of one person who 

 holds the rope, bj- which they are suspended at the top of 

 the precipice. The young birds are a favourite dish with 

 the North Britons in general: during the season they are 

 constantly brought from the Bass Isle to Edinburgh, 



sold at 20c?. a piece, are roasted, and served up a little be- 

 fore dinner as a whet. 



"The Gannets are birds of passage. Their first appear- 

 ance in those islands is in March; their continuance there 

 till August or September, according as the inhabitants 

 take or leave their first egg; but in general, the time of 

 breeding, and that of their departure, seems to coincide 

 with the arrival of the herring, and the migration of that 

 fish, (which is their principal food,) out of those seas. It 

 is probable that these birds attend the herring and pil- 

 chard during their whole circuit round the British isl- 

 ands; the appearance of the former being always esteem- 

 ed b_v the fishermen as a sure presage of the approach of 

 the latter. It migrates in quest of food as far south as the 

 mouth of the Tagus, being frequently seen off Lisbon 

 during the month of December, plunging for Sardinoe, 

 fish resembling, if not the same with our Pilchard. 



" I have in the month of August observed in Cathness 

 their northern migrations: I have seen them passing the 

 whole day in flocks, from five to fifteen in each: in calm 

 weather they fly high; in storms they fly low and near 

 the shore; but never cross over the land, even when aba}" 

 with its promontories intervenes, but follow, at an equal 

 distance, the course of the bay, ^.nd regularly double every 

 cape. I have seen many of the parties make a sort of halt 

 for the sake of fishing: they soared to a vast height, then 

 darting headlong into the sea, made the water foam and 

 spring up with the violence of their descent; after which 

 they pursued their route. I inquired whether they ever 

 were observed to return southward in the spring, but was 

 answered in the negative; so it appears that they annually 

 encircle the whole island. 



"The}' are well known on most of our coasts; but not by 

 the name of the Soland-Goose. In Cornwal and in Ire- 

 land they ai'c called Gannets by the Welsh Gan. The 

 excellent Mr. Ray supposed flie Cornish Gannet to be 

 a species of large Gull; a very excusable mistake, for dur- 

 ing his six months residence in Cornwal, he never had 

 an opportunity of seeing that bird, except flying; and in 

 the air it has the appearance of a gull. On that supposi- 

 tion he gave our Skua, p. 417, the title of Cataracta, a 

 name borrowed from Aristotle, and which admirably ex- 

 presses the rapid descent of this bird on its prey. Mr. 

 INIoyle first detected this mistake; and the Rev. Doctor 

 William Borlase, by presenting us with a fine specimen 

 of this bird, confirms the opinion of Mr. Moyle; at the- 

 same time he favoured us with so accurate an account of 

 some part of the natural history of this bird, that we shall 

 use the liberty he indulged us with, of adding it to this 

 description. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



207 



<' The Gannet comes on the coasts of Cornwal in the 

 latter end of summer, or beginning of autumn; hovering 

 over the slioals of pilchards that come down to us through 

 St. George's Channel from the northern seas. The Gan- 

 net seldom comes near the land, but is constant to its prey, 

 a sure sign to the fisherman that the pilchards are on the 

 coasts; and when the pilchards retire, generally about the 

 end of November, the Gannets are seen no more. The 

 bird now sent was killed at Chandour, near INIountsbay, 

 Sept. 30, 1762, after a long struggle with a water spaniel, 

 assisted by the boatmen; for it was strong and pugnacious. 

 The person who took it observed that it had a transparent 

 membrane under the eye-lid, with which it covered at 

 pleasure the whole e3-e, without obscuring the sight or 

 shutting the eye-lid; a gracious provision for the security 

 of the eyes of so weighty a creature, ^vhose method of 

 taking its prey is by darting headlong on it from a height 

 of a hundred and fifty feet or more into the water. About 

 four years ago, one of these birds fl^'ing over Penzance, 

 (a thing that rarely happens,) and seeing some pilchards 

 Ij-ing on a fir-plank, in a cellar used for curing fish, dart- 

 ed itself down with such violence, that it struck its bill 

 quite through the board, (about an inch and a quarter 

 thick,) and broke its neck. 



"These birds are sometimes taken at sea by a decep- 

 tion of the like kind. The fishermen fasten a pilchard to 

 a board, and leave it floating; which inviting bait decoys 

 the unwarj^ Gannet to its own destruction. 



" In the Chataracta of Fuba may be found many 

 characters of this bird: he says, that the bill is toothed: 

 that its eyes are fiery; and that its colour is white: and in 

 tlie very name is expressed its furious descent on its prey. 

 The rest of his account savours of fable. 



" We are uncertain whether the Gannet breeds in any 

 other parts of Europe besides our own islands; except (as 

 Mr. Ray suspects, the Sula, described in Clusius' Exo- 

 tics, which breeds in the Ferroe Isles,) be the same bird. 

 In America there are two species of birds of this genus, 

 that bear a great resemblance to it in their general form 

 and their manner of preying. Mr. Catesby has given 

 the figure of the head of one, which he calls the Greater 

 Booby; his description suits that of the young Gannet; 

 but the angle on the lower mandible made us formerly 

 suspect that it was not the same bird; but from some late 

 information we have been favoured with, we find it is 

 common to both countries, and during summer frequents 

 North America. Like the Penguin, it informs naviga- 

 tors of the approach of soundings, who on sight of it drop 

 the plummet. Linnaeus classes our bird with the Pele- 

 can. " 



MEMOIR OF A CELEBRATED SETTER DOG. 



This Dog was purchased in June, 1822, when about 

 six months old; at which age, he showed the predominant 

 features which distinguished this description of Dogs from 

 all others in such a remarkable degree, that from the first 

 moment I saw him I did not rest satisfied until he became 

 my property; nor was I disappointed. 



In detailing some instances of his remarkable sagacity, 

 I ^vill pass over the more common qualities of bottom, a 

 good nose, fine ranging, standing and backing, for these 

 he possessed equal to any of his contemporaries; but those 

 which I will mention may be considered as extra, and 

 are not witnessed by many sportsmen. 



In the first place, in windy weather when the birds 

 were restless and would run before him, he would trail 

 them until he could get the sportsman as nigh as the birds 

 would suffer him to approach, and if he still found the 

 birds moving oflT, would instantly, and with great rapidity 

 make a half circle to the leeward, and coming up imme- 

 diately in front, would bring them to a sudden stop. By 

 this finesse he would enable the sportsman to get to a de- 

 sirable situation, when nothing else would avail; for birds 

 when running from their feeding ground to cover in windy 

 weather, are almost certain to rise at too great a distance, 

 if the noise which occurs in their wake seems to approach 

 them very close; on the contrary, a sudden transit from 

 that to almost any other situation will have the effect of 

 stopping them; this, the sagacity of this Dog found out, 

 and he would invariably practice it whenever the occasion 

 offered, j-et I never knew him but once to flush a covey, 

 and this occurred in miserable cover. It certainly was 

 interesting to see the manner and spirit with which he 

 controlled the actions of the birds in order to contribute to 

 the pleasures of his master. 



I have several times known " Thorn"* to point a live 

 bird with a dead one in his mouth. On one occasion while 

 hunting in company with two other gentlemen on the ex- 

 tensive farm belonging to S. H., in Evesham, N. J., I had 

 an excellent opportunity to witness this remarkable trait 

 in his character. I had just shot a partridge in a small 

 copse, and while reloading my empty barrel, missed my 

 favourite Dog, but on looking behind me I discovered him 

 at a point with the bird in his mouth that I had just shot; 

 friend S. H., who before that day had never seen Dogs 

 point game, was so enamoured with it, that he followed 

 us nearly the whole day for no other purpose than to see 

 the Dogs hunt; and thinking perhaps that he never would 

 have another opportunity of seeing a Dog situated as mine 



* This was his name. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



was at that moment, I beckoned him to me, and after 

 showing him the Dog, and explaining to him the cause of 

 his acting thus, I flushed and shot the bird; thus giving 

 the most palpable evidence of the fact that was possible to 

 give; and as the like circumstance very rarely occurs, (and 

 I know of but two instances on record, the one I believe 

 is in Daniel's Rural Sports, and in the American Turf Re- 

 gister,) I should like to know how often sportsmen have 

 witnessed the same action in Dogs of their own or those 

 belonging to their friends. 



This Dog was so perfectly acquainted with his duty, that 

 he has been known to evince the greatest displeasure when 

 another Dog in company committed an error. — An instance 

 of this kind I will mention as related to me by some gen- 

 tlemen, who had him with them on an excursion in the 

 neighbourhood of Holmesburg near this city. They were 

 hunting him in company with another Dog, which was 

 very headstrong and disobedient, and although he would 

 find and stand game very well, would not back another 

 dog that had found it, nor suffer another Dog to back him, 

 but would in both cases invariably flush the game, having 

 on this day exercised this disposition in several instances 

 to the great displeasure of the company. At length he 

 pointed a covey in some bushes, and my Dog being near 

 liim at the time, backed him without moving from the 

 spot; but the former Dog hearing the noise of the sports- 

 men approaching from behind, caused him to turn his 

 head, when he no sooner discovered that he was backed 

 by another Dog, than he sprang upon the covey and fluslied 

 them. Thorn, whose patience I suppose was exhausted, 

 as well as the sportsmen at such conduct, immediately 

 seized the offender by the throat, with that degree of fero- 

 city, as not only to punish him severely, but to leave those 

 impressions upon him, which he remembered the rest of 

 the da}'. 



He was a favourite Dog with three verj- respectable and 

 experienced sportsmen of this cit}^, Mr. H., Mr. C. and 

 Mr. L., and perhaps no three gentlemen could be found 

 of better judgment and greater experience in sporting con- 

 cerns; and as, Mr. Editor, I lend my dog, and gun also, 

 (especially to experienced sportsmen, who I am convinced 

 will always take care of that which is committed to their 

 trust,) it was the prime consideration of these gentlemen 

 (as they always hunted together,) when preparing for a 

 gunning excursion, to secure the services of this Dog, for 

 he was their Alpha, and was always rated by them as a 

 dog of the highest order, and indeed as possessing some 

 properties, which their experience had never before wit- 

 nessed. These gentlemen informed me that on one occa- 

 sion after partridges, he suffered three shots to be fired over 

 him, before he broke from his point, and upon another oc- 



casion while they were on an excursion after woodcock in the % 



lower part of New Jersey, one of the party fired at, and sup- 

 posed wounded a bird, but as the majority were against his 

 opinion, he made no further research, but gave it up. The 

 day being warm, and they wishing to change their ground, 

 thought it advisable first to go to a tavern, about one-fourth 

 of a mile distant from them for some refreshment, where 

 they remained about half an hour. On preparing to renew 

 their hunt, they called their dogs, but Thorn was in de- 

 fault; this excited much uneasiness amongst them. They 

 then commenced hallooing and whistling, and using such • 



other means to find their absent friend as the emergency 

 of the case required; they were however soon relieved from 

 all unpleasant feelings on the subject, for they discovered 

 his approach through a cornfield, with a woodcock in his 

 mouth, supposed to be the identical bird fired at last and 

 wounded by one of the party. — It appears, as stated by a 

 boy who watched the Dog, that after following the party 

 some distance towards the house, he suddenly turned about 

 and made directl}' for the thicket into which the bird had 

 flown, and where no doubt he had seen it settle, and that 

 finding the bird, pointed it, and remained so until he heard 

 them calling at the house, when he sprang upon the bird 

 and caught it. 



Another interesting case occurred with Mr. H. a young 

 gentleman of this city, who has related it several times, 

 with a great degree of pleasure. Himself and his father 

 were desirous of spending a short time in the country, 

 and although not being sportsmen, were nevertheless desi- 

 rous of taking with them guns and a Dog, in order to break 

 in upon the monotony that a stay in the country presents 

 to a citizen; they accordingly procured my Dog, and the 

 next morning after having reached their new abode, they 

 determined to spend in hunting; accordingly all things 

 prepared they set out on their excursion, but the day wax- 

 ing warm, the father became tired, and returned. The 

 son, not yielding to fatigue so soon, and unwilling to re- 

 turn without some trophy of his perseverance, continued 

 his pursuit for several hours. During this period, after 

 flushing a covey of partridges, the Dog found and pointed 

 several scattered birds, at which our young sportsman 

 fired without success. The Dog discovering the kind of 

 master he had to work for, became utterly regardless of 

 the game, and would run over every bird instead of point- 

 ing them. Discouraged at his ill success, our young friend 

 concluded to return home with but one bird, (which the 

 Dog pointed and caught in the act of rising,) disposed to 

 impute the blame to the Dog as the cause of his disappoint- 

 ment; but on relating the circumstance to his father be- 

 came soon convinced where the error was, by an anecdote 

 of the same nature being related to him, of two celebrated 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



209 



pointer Dogs, the property of a nobleman in England, hav- 

 ing left the field and returned home, because the gentle- 

 man who was hunting with them, being a stranger, and 

 having missed the three first shots at birds which they had 

 found and pointed for him. And it is here worthy to re- 

 mark, that good dogs will uniformly act in concert with 

 good shots, and become indiiferent in performing their 

 duty, in proportion to the inferiority of the master they 

 are serving. 



There was, perhaps, no Dog superior to this for find- 

 ing and bringing shot game; he could be directed any 

 course you wished by simply throwing a stone, and he 

 seldom returned without the object he was sent for, even 

 in the most diificult, and, to the sportsman, inaccessible 

 places; such as swamps, marshes, briers, and swimming 

 broad streams, &c., and I knew him once to swim into a 

 mill pond 150 yards and bring to land a duck, from the 

 midst of an innumerable quantity of stumps and dead tree 

 tops. 



This remarkable Dog was taken from my yard about 

 two years since by an acquaintance, who was going after 

 woodcock, whilst I was absent from the city, and was 

 lost by him the same evening, since which period he has 

 not been heard of — it is supposed he fell a sacrifice to our 

 dog laws, then in force, or was stolen — the former, how- 

 ever, is the most probable. D. 



HUNTING BUFFALO. 



One morning a whole train of elephants, taking up 

 two lines, entered one of the heaviest jungles in the coun- 

 try. Hospitius, Cambius, and Shawzada, mounting 

 their steadiest horses, posted themselves on the outskirts, 

 prepared to attack those BufTaloes which might take to 

 the plains; but the spear was resigned for the stout double- 

 barrelled gun, charged with ti)i balls: the remaining sports- 

 men, placing more dependence on tlie lofty back of the 

 elephant than on the velocity and activity of the horse in 

 the approaching chase, sate secure in their howdars,'^' en- 

 circled with guns, and, leading the line, entered the almost 

 impervious high grass. At a given signal the JNIahouts, 

 or elephant-drivers, urged those sagacious animals through 

 the opposing thickets: erecting their trunks almost per- 

 pendicularly, for the purpose, probably, of guarding this 

 most sensitive member from the sudden attack of some 

 concealed ferocious animal — the tiger, or the more for- 

 midable rhinoceros — they urged their way with slow re- 

 sistless footsteps through the strong jungles, every now 



• Howdar, a covered wooden tower, placed on the elephant's back. 



Gag 



and then raising a shrill trumpeting, which became louder 

 as difficulties occurred, and in which they strove to outvie 

 each other. Beneath the feet of a hundred elephants the 

 stoutest branches crackled; the snapping sounds reverbe- 

 rated through the hollow woods; and their wild screams 

 arose above the tumultuous din of horns and the deep 

 music of the human voice; while every now and then the 

 animals would playfully strike the high waving tops of 

 the lofty jungle with their pliant trunks, and besprinkle 

 the faces of their riders with the early morning dew, 

 brushed ofi'from the gracefully bent bearded heads of the 

 silky grass. The constant dropping shots which were 

 heard at intervals denoted to the skirting and adventurous 

 horsemen the progress of the party through the deeper 

 recesses of the forest, till at length one rending shout, and 

 the quick and incessant firing, announced that they had 

 come upon a herd of wild Buffaloes. 



After the lapse of a few minutes the whole herd rushed 

 forth in one black, condensed, formidable body, some 

 bleeding, others, though mortally wounded, yet strug- 

 gling on in their last agonies till the death-pang overtook 

 them, and, falling slowly on their knees, they sank ma- 

 jestically to rise no more. One, with blood-shot eyes and 

 wrinkled front, stood alone on an elevated knoll, with 

 lowering head and spreading horns, pawing up furiously 

 the verdant turf: he was one, who, long the favourite of 

 the fickle female train, had been lately ejected from the 

 herd by caprice, or some stronger rival: liis spirit brooded 

 over his wrongs, and he stood reckless, prepared despe- 

 rately to charge any moving thing which should come 

 within his reach; he had long been the terror of the sur- 

 rounding country. 



The cheering voice of Cambius urged the attack, and, 

 circling round in rapid career, he discharged a shot, which 

 only raised the skin and farther excited the fury of the 

 Buffalo, who rushed towards the bold horseman with sense- 

 less rage. The white foam flew over his head, and fell 

 like snow-flakes upon his black skin; but the speed of 

 Feridoon upon this occasion, and the prompt assistance of 

 Hospitius and Shawzada, saved the life of Cambius: for 

 while the Buffalo, intent upon the destruction of the lat- 

 ter, continued his desperate course, they rode up and 

 wounded him severely; and, at the same time, one of the 

 stoutest elephants came up with Idem and Dubiosus to the 

 support of their friends. The Buflalo prepared for the en- 

 counter with determined energy: he lashed his tail, stamp- 

 ed up the ground, and the plain resounded with his deep 

 bellqwings, which seemed to invite the combat. The 

 shrill trumpeting of the elephant answered the summons; 

 while crowds of aflrighted ryots, or cultivators, perched 

 on adjacent trees, watched with alarm the progress of the 




210 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



contest. When the elephant approached within about 

 fifty yards, the Buffalo rushed on with a force and resolu- 

 tion which no language can adequately describe. Perfo- 

 rated with weighty balls, besmeared with blood, fire in 

 his eye, and ebbing strength in his charge, he came on 

 with his head down between his knees, struggling onward, 

 and rushed upon his colossal foe. The shock staggered 

 him; and, reeling backwards some paces, he stooped, 

 stumbled forward, and fell dead at the feet of the ele- 

 phant; who, scorning to insult a fallen enemy, stood un- 

 moved over the prostrate carcase. — Land. Sport. Mag. 



TIGER HUNTING IN THE EAST INDIES. 



On Saturday last, the Potail of Mallegaum sent in to 

 say a Tiger had been marked down, and three Officers, 

 McMurdo of the H. A., Craigie, of the 28th, and Brett, of 

 the 31st, went out to kill it. On arriving at the ground 

 they learned there were three Tigers, and their lair was 

 pointed out by the villagers. After beating for sometime, 

 the Tigers were on foot and Brett mortally wounded one 

 of them, which, after a short struggle, died in a bush. 

 They followed the others, and INIcMurdo got view of one 

 of them, about sixty yards from him, which he fired at, 

 but missed; the villagers from among the hills marked the 

 brute into a clump of bushes, on the edges of a nullah; the 

 circumference of these bushes was not more than sixty or 

 seventy feet, and though they beat all round them, and 

 tlirust in sticks and the muzzles of their guns, the animal 

 never moved. 



They then proposed going on further to look for it, and 

 poor McM. said, " Stop a moment till I put another ball 

 in my gun." They were all three close together, and 

 about a yard from the bush. Craigie and Brett stepped 

 aside to look at the Tiger's foot-prints, when suddenly 

 they heard a tremendous roar, and looked round, saw the 

 brute with McM. in his grasp; he fell instantly. Craigie 

 fired both barrels into the animal, which rolled over with 

 McM. into the nullah. Brett ran up, missed with one 

 barrel and hit him on the head with the other. So instan- 

 taneous was the spring, and so close was McMurdo, that 

 he had no time to use his gun; in fact, it was all over in a 

 few seconds. Craigie and Brett had now to re-load. They 

 .saw the poor fellow in the nullah, (which was very shal- 

 low,) making all the resistance that man could make; his 

 left arm thrust down the brute's throat, his right having 

 been mangled in vain attempts to extricate himself. 

 Whilst his companions were re-loading, a bold fellow, a 

 native, ran in, picked up McMurdo's gun, and fired the 

 barrel that was primed into the animal, which then rolled 



over a few yards from the poor fellow; presently they 

 heard him cry out, "Oh God! oh God! Craigie, Craigie, 

 he is coming at me again! Craigie and the villagers then 

 attacked and despatched the beast with stones: the whole 

 sad business happened in much less time than the recital 

 can give you an idea of. PoorMcM.'sstate wasmost dread- 

 ful; his left thigh crushed to atoms, both arms dreadfully 

 mangled and lacerated, two claw-marks on his face, and 

 his side much bruised. He was a man of the most im- 

 moveable nerve, and his courage was beyond every thing 

 daring. He had killed two Tigers before, on foot; one of 

 them by a shot which laid the animal at his feet almost 

 touching him. 



When the first Tiger on Saturday was wounded, it was 

 struggling in a bush, and McM. went up and finished it 

 with as much coolness, as if it had been a wounded hare. 

 When it was pulled out, he gave a jump in the air, say- 

 ing, "By Jove! what capital sport we shall have if we 

 can get them all three." He was constantly out after wild 

 animals, and meeting with adventures: was a capital and 

 fearless horseman, and invariably a foremost rider in our 

 hog hunts. He so entirely retained his presence of mind 

 in his struggle with the Tiger, that he knew every shot 

 that was fired, and when he spoke of the stones hitting it, 

 the poor fellow smiled. - He told Craigie to go and ex- 

 amine the beast, and see if he had not hit him, when he 

 took the shot at a distance. He said that for a month past 

 he had an impression that he should meet with some acci- 

 dent, "but I had no idea it would be so bad as this, for I 

 suppose I must lose my leg." His firmness never forsook 

 him for a moment; after about two hours he complained of 

 thirst, and spasms in the stomach, and was evidently sink- 

 ing fast. He asked Craigie to loosen the silk handker- 

 chief which had been applied as a tourniquet to stop the 

 bleeding in the thigh; this, however, could not be done; 

 he then becam.e insensible, breathed hard for so:ne time, 

 then more and more faintly, and expired, without a groan 

 or struggle, before medical aid could reach him. You may 

 imagine how so fatal an adventure has affected all, though 

 from his extraordinary daring, he was a man unlikely to 

 come to a premature end. There was a strength of nerve 

 in him as if nature had made him without the sense of 

 fear: for, however critical his situation, he seemed uncon- 

 scious of danger. 



THE CORK OAK-TREE. 



The Cork Oak {Quercus stibei-) is not so large a tree 

 as the common oali. There are several varieties: a broad 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



leaved and a narrow leaved, which are evergreens; besides 

 other varieties which shed their leaves. The broad leaved 

 evergreen is, however, the most common, and it is the 

 one from which the cork of commerce is chiefly obtained. 

 It is mentioned by Theophrastus, Pliny, and some other 

 ancient naturalists, as being well known in the days of the 

 Greeks and Romans — the latter of whom used it for a va- 

 riety of purposes, and among the rest for the stopping of 

 bottles. They used it for floats to their nets and fishing 

 tackle; for buoys to their anchors; and when Camilluswas 

 sent to the Capitol, through the Tiber, during the siege by 

 the Gauls, he had a life-preserver of cork under his dress. 



The Cork Oak is indigenous, or at least abundant, in 

 Portugal, Spain, part of the south of France, and Italy; on 

 the opposite coast of the Mediterranean, and the Levant. 

 Spain and Portugal supply the greater portion of the cork 

 which is consumed in Europe. The cork is the bark which 

 the tree pushes outwards, as is common to all trees; but 

 here the outer bark is of larger quantity, and is more spee- 

 dily renewed. When removed, there is a libei-, or inner 

 bark, below it, and from this the cork is re-produced in 

 the course of a few years — while the tree is said to live 

 longer, and grow more vigorously, than if the cork were 

 not removed. The first time that the cork is taken off, is 

 when the tree is about fifteen years old. That crop is 

 thin, hard, full of fissures, and consequently of little value; 

 and the second, which is removed about ten years after, 

 is also of an inferior quality. After this, the operation is 

 lepeated once in eight or ten years, the produce being 

 greater in quantity, and superior in quality, each succes- 

 sive time. According to Duhamel, a cork tree thus bark- 

 ed will live a hundred and fifty years. The months of 

 July and August are those which are chosen for removing 

 the cork. The bark is cleft longitudinally, at certain in- 

 tervals, down to the crown of the root, with an axe, of 

 which the handle terminates in a wedge; and a circular 

 incision is then made from each extremity of the longitu- 

 dinal cuts. The bark is then beaten, to detatch it from 

 the liber; and it is lifted up by introducing the wedged 

 handle, taking care to leave sufficient of the inner laminse 

 upon the wood, without which precaution the tree would 

 certainly die. The bark being thus removed, it is divided 

 into convenient lengths; and it is then flattened, and slight- 

 ly charred, to contract the pores. This substance is the 

 rough cork of commerce; and it is thus fit to be cut into 

 floats, stoppers, shoe-soles and other articles of domestic 

 use, by the manufacturer. The cork of the best quality 

 is firm, elastic, and of a slightly red colour. Cork burn- 

 ed in vessels of a particular construction gives the sub- 

 stance called Spanish black. 



[Lib. Ent. Know. 



ALMOND-TREE. 



The Mmond-Tree has a considerable resemblance to 

 the peach in the form of its leaves, and of its blossoms, 

 only the latter are more variable in colour. It is proba- 

 ble that the almond is a native of the western parts of Asia. 

 The almond is mentioned in the Scriptures as amongst 

 the best fruits of the land of Canaan. It is very plentiful 

 in China, in most of the eastern countries, and alsoinBar- 

 bary. In that country it is the most early bearer of all the 

 fruit trees. It flowers in January, and gives its fruit in 

 April. It does not appear that the Almond-tree, (which 

 is now abundantlj' cultivated for its fruit in Italy, Spain, 

 and the south of France,) was so early introduced into 

 the first of these countries as the peach, or that its native 

 region was so well known, " Greek nuts" being the name 

 given to almonds at Rome in the time of Cato. 



The fruit of the almond is not so attractive as that of the 

 peach; because, instead of presenting the same delicious 

 pulp as that, the pericarp of the almond shrivels as the 

 fruit ripens; and when the ripening is completed, has be- 

 come a horny kind of husk, which opens of its own ac- 

 cord. The kernel of some varieties of the almond is not 

 defended by so tough a shell as that of the peach and nec- 

 tarine; for it is often so tender that the nuts break when 

 shaken together. 



In the south of Europe, where the almond is cultivated 

 with as much care as the peach is in this country, its va- 

 rieties are carefully distinguished. The bitter and the 

 sweet are permanently distinct varieties; and after this 

 leading character is observed, the variety is further dis- 

 tinguished by the form and degree of hardness of the shell. 

 For instance, the French have, " amandier a coque dure" 

 — " amandier a coque demi-dure" — "amandier a coque 

 tendrc." 



Ill England, Almond-trees are chiefly cultivated for 

 the beauty of their early flowers; and for this reason, the 

 common kind, and the double-flowering dwarfs, are pre- 

 ferred. There is something very charming in the pecu- 

 liarity which belongs to this tree, of blossoming on the 

 bare branches: 



" The hope, in dreams, of a happier hour, 



That alights on misery's broiv, 

 Springs out of llie silvery almond-flower, 



That blooms on a leafless bough." 



One of the most beautiful tales of the Greek mythology, 

 (that of the Loves of Phillis and Demophoon,) is founded 

 on this property of the Almond-tree. 



Almond-trees ripen their fruit in England, though the 

 produce is very inferior to that which is imported. The 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



flowers of the productive almond, both the sweet and the 

 bitter, are much less showy than those of the unproduc- 

 tive. Like most of the other nut bearing trees, the 

 almond yields an oil. Between the expressed oil of bit- 

 ter, and that of sweet almonds, there is little diflerence; 

 but the bitter almond contains an essential oil, while the 

 sweet almond has none. Owing to the prussic acid which 

 it contains, this essential oil is found, by experiment, to 

 be exceedingly poisonous; and therefore the use of bitter 

 almonds should be carefully avoided in every instance 

 where there is a chance that the essential oil may be sepa- 

 rated in the stomach. So very violent is the poison of 

 this oil, that instances are recorded of persons dying in 

 consequence of drinking even a very small portion of 

 spirits flavoured by it; and, in its concentrated state, it is 

 probably not exceeded, in its hurtful effects, even by the 

 essential oil of tobacco itself, or by any of the narcotic ve- 

 getable poisons. 



According to Haller, {Hist. Plant.,) bitter almonds are 

 a poison to birds and quadrupeds. 



Almond oil, (the expressed oil,) is principally obtained 

 from the almonds of Valentia and Barbary; the Syrian 

 almonds, usually called Jordan almonds, being preferred 

 for the table. 



The Large Fruited Mmond, [var. macrocarpa,) is 

 one of the most beautiful varieties of the almond. The 

 flowers are twice as large as those of the common sort, and 

 remain longer in perfection: Ihe fruit also is larger. — Ibid. 



DANGEROUS PLANT AMONG WATER- 

 CRESSES. 



The procumbent water parsnip, Sium nodiflorvm, is 

 a dangerous plant of the umbelliferous class, which grows 

 mixed with water-cresses in springs and streams. When 

 not in flower, it so much resembles the latter, that it is 

 with difliculty distinguished except by a botanist. Water- 

 cresses are of a deeper green, and sometimes spotted with 

 brown, and the extremities of the leaves are more round, 

 and especially the last leaves, which are in pairs, larger 

 than the others, and undulated at their edges. The water 

 parsnip, on the contrary, is of a uniform green; the ends 

 of its leaves are longer and narrower, conical at the ex- 

 tremities, and toothed at the edges. The best method of 

 knowing them well is to examine them in July, when 

 their flowers are expanded, and when they may be tho- 

 roughly distinguished from each other. 



{^Quarlerbj Journal of Science. 



From the Connecticut Mirror. 



The following lines are full of spirit. The hunters rousing to the 

 chase, the scene of plaintive indolence which would keep them back, 

 the magic morning, and the inspiriting emotions which it inspires, are 

 all beautifully depicted. 



THE HUNTER'S MORNING SONG. 



Away, away, to the mountains blue. 

 Where tlio waving trees the bright clouds woo, 

 We will fly on the wings of the viewless wind, 

 And leave the dull, cold earth behind ; 

 We will wander as wild, as gay and free, 

 As a rushing wave on a stormy sea. 



Aha, Aha, that wailing cry, 

 They would charm us back with Love's lullaby, 

 For little they know how the hunter's horn, 

 Will thrill through the heart in the merry morn — 

 Let them shake their dull limbs, and palsied head, 

 We will leave tliem to their sluggard's bed. 



Away, away, how the sunbeams glance. 



From the burnished steel, and the glittering lance, 



How the morning mists are fading away. 



From the burning beams of the God of Day ; 



They linger yet, o'er the mountains curled. 



As if grieving to quit so fair a world. 



Away, away, there is joy on Earth, 

 And the rosy morning laughs tor mirth ; 

 There is joy in the breath of the balmy air, 

 As if Heaven had showered its odours there — 

 There is joy on the breast of the dancing wave. 

 And on the green banks tliat its waters lave. 



No thought of the future shall darken the brow. 



That is beaming with hope, and happiness now, 



For we leave all grief, and worldly cares, 



To the gloomy mantle that dotage wears; 



We will drink the light of the new born day. 



Till its spirit fills us, away, away. J. L. R. 



METHOD OF PREVENTING IRON AND STEEL 

 FROftI RUSTING. 



This easy method consists in heating the steel or 

 iron until it burns the hand; then rub it with virgin or 

 pure white wax. Warm it a second time so as to melt 

 and divide ofi' the wax, and rub it with a piece of cloth or 

 leather until it shines well. This single operation, by 

 filling all the pores of the metal, defends it completely 

 from rust, even though it should be exposed to moisture. 

 [Jour, dc Connois. Usuelles, Jan. 1830. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



213 



From the Library of Usefal Knowledge. 



THE VICES AND DISAGREEABLE OR DAN- 

 GEROUS HABITS OF THE HORSE. 



The Horse has many excellent qualities, but he has 

 likewise defects, and these occasionally amounting to 

 vices. Some of them may be attributed to natural tem- 

 per; for the human being scarcely discovers more pecu- 

 liarities of habit and disposition, than does the Horse. 

 The majority of tliem, however, as perhaps in the human 

 being, are consequences of a faulty education. Their 

 early instructor has been both ignorant and brutal, and 

 they have become obstinate and vicious. 



RESTIFNESS. 



At the head of the vices of the Horse we place restifness, 

 the most annoying, and the most dangerous of all. It is 

 the produce of bad temper and worse education; and, like 

 all other habits founded on nature and stamped bj- educa- 

 tion, it is inveterate. Whether it appears in the form of 

 kicking, or rearing, or plunging, or bolting, or in any 

 way that threatens danger to the rider or the Horse, it 

 rarely admits of cure. A determined rider may, to a 

 certain degree, subjugate the animal; or the Horse may 

 have his favourites, or form his attachments, and with 

 some particular person he may be comparatively or per- 

 fectly manageable; but others cannot long depend upon 

 him, and even his master is not always sure of him. We 

 will speak of the most likelj' means of cure, or escaping 

 irom danger, as it regards the principal forms under which 

 restifness displays itself; but we must premise as a rule 

 that admits of very few exceptions, that he neither displays 

 his wisdom, nor consults his safety, who attempts to con- 

 quer a restitf Horse. 



An excellent vetei'inary surgeon, and a man of great 

 experience in Horses, Mr. Castley, truly says, in "The 

 Veterinarian:" "From whatever cause the vicious habits 

 of Horses may originate, whether from some mismanage- 

 ment, or from natural badness of temper, or from what is 

 called in Yorkshire a mistetch, whenever these animals 

 acquire one of them, and it becomes in some degree con- 

 firmed, they very seldom, if ever, altogether forget it. In 

 reference to driving, it is so true, that it may be taken as 

 a kind of aphorism, that if a Horse kicks once in harness, 

 no matter from what cause, he will be liable to kick ever 

 afterwards. A good coachman may drive him, it is true — 

 and may make him go, but he cannot make him forget his 

 vice; and so it is in riding. You may conquer a restiff 

 Hnh 



Horse; you maymakehimridequietformonths, nay, almost 

 for years together, but I affirm, that under other circum- 

 stances and at some future opportunity, he will be sure to 

 return to his old tricks again." 



Mr. Castley gives two singular and conclusive instances 

 of the truth of this doctrine. "When a very young man," 

 says he, " I remember purchasing a Horse at a fair in the 

 north of England, that was offered very cheap on account 

 of his being unmanageable. It was said that nobody could 

 ride him. We found that the animal objected to have any 

 thing placed upon his back, and that, when made to move 

 forward with nothing more than a saddle on, he instantly 

 threw himself down on his side with great violence, and 

 would then endeavour to roll upon his back. 



" There was at that time in Yorkshire, a famous colt- 

 breaker, known by the name of Jumper, who was almost 

 as celebrated in that country for taming vicious Horses 

 into submission, as the famed Whisperer was in Ireland. 

 We put this animal into Jumper's hands, who took him 

 away, and in about ten days brought him home again, cer- 

 tainly not looking worse in condition, but perfectly sub- 

 dued and almost as obedient as a dog: for he would lie 

 down at this man's bidding, and only rise again at his 

 command, and carry double or anything. I took to riding 

 him myself, and may say, that I was never better carried 

 for six or eight months, during which time he never show- 

 ed the least vice whatever. I then sold him to a Lin- 

 colnshire farmer, who said that he would give him a sum- 

 mer's run at grass, and show him a very fiine Horse at the 

 great Horncastle fair. 



" Happening to meet this gentleman the following year, 

 I naturally enough inquired after my old friend. 'Oh,' 

 said he, ' that was a bad business — the Horse turned out a 

 sad rebel. The first time we attemped to mount him, after 

 getting him up from grass, he in an instant threw the man 

 down with the greatest violence, pitching him several 

 yards over his head; and after that he threw every one 

 that attempted to get on his back. If he could not throw 

 his rider, he icoukl throw himself down. We could do 

 notliing with him, and I was obliged at last to sell him to 

 go in a stage-coach.' " 



In the next story. Jumper's counterpart and superior, 

 the Irish Whisperer, is brought on the stage, and, although 

 he performs wonders, he cannot radically cure a restiff 

 Horse. "At the Spring Meeting of 1804, Mr. Whalley's 

 King Pippin was brought on the Curragh of Kildare to 

 run. He was a Horse of the most extraordinary savage 

 and vicious disposition. His particular propensity was 

 that oi flying at and worrying any person who came with- 

 in his reach, and if he had an opportunity, he would get 

 his head round, seize his rider by the leg with his teeth, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



and drag him down from his back. For this reason he 

 was always ridden in what is called a sword; which is 

 nothing more than a strong flat stick, having one end 

 attached to the cheek of the bridle, and the other to the 

 girth of the saddle, a contrivance to prevent a horse of this 

 kind from getting at his rider. 



'« King Pippin had long been difficult to manage and 

 dangerous to go near, but on the occasion in question he 

 could not be got out to run at all. Nobody could put the 

 bridle upon his head. It being Easter Monday, and con- 

 sequently a great holyday, there was a large concourse of 

 people assembled at the Curragh, consisting principally of 

 the neighbouring peasantry; and one countryman, more 

 fearless than the rest of the lookers-on, forgetting, or per- 

 haps never dreaming that the better part of courage is 

 discretion, volunteered his services to bridle the Horse. 

 No sooner had he committed himself in this operation, 

 than King Pippin seized him somewhere about the shoul- 

 ders or chest, and, says Mr. Watts, (Mr. Castley's in- 

 formant,) 'I knowof nothing I can compare it to, so much 

 as a dog shaking a rat.' Fortunately for the poor fellow, 

 his body was very thickly covered with clothes, for on 

 such occasions an Irishman of this class is fond of displa}'- 

 ing his wardrobe, and if /le has three coats at all in the 

 ivorld, he is sure to put them all on. 



" This circumstance in all probability saved the indivi- 

 dual who had so gallantly volunteered the forlorn hope. 

 His person was so deeply enveloped in extra-teguments, 

 that the Horse never got fairly hold of his skin, and I un- 

 derstand that he escaped with but little injury, beside 

 the sadly rent and totally ruined state of his holyday 

 toggery. 



" The Whisperer was sent for, who, having arrived, 

 was shut up with the Horse all night, and in the morning 

 he exhibited this hitherto ferocious animal, following him 

 about the course like a dog — lying down at his com- 

 mand — suffering his mouth to be opened, and any per- 

 son's hand to be introduced into it — in short, as quiet 

 almost as a sheep. 



" He came out the same meeting, and won a race, and 

 his docility continued satisfactory for a long time; but at 

 the end of about three years his vice returned, and then 

 he is said to have killed a man, for which he was 

 destroyed." 



It may not be uninteresting in this connexion, to give 

 some account of this tamer of quadruped vice. However 

 strange and magical his power may seem to be, there is no 

 doubt of the truth of the account that is given of him. The 

 Rev. Mr. Townsend, in his Statistical Survey of Cork, 

 first introduced him to the notice of the public generally, 

 although his fame had long spread over that part of Ire- 



land. We, however, give the following extract from Cro- 

 ker's Fairy Legends and Traditions of Ireland, Part II. 

 p. 200, for the fact seems the work of some elfin sprite, 

 rather than of a rude and ignorant horse-breaker. 



" He was an awkward, ignorant rustic of the lowest 

 class, of the name of Sullivan, but better known by the 

 appellation of the Whisperer; his occupation was horse- 

 breaking. The nickname he acquired from the vulgar 

 notion of his being able to communicate to the animal 

 what he wished by means of a whisper, and the singu- 

 larity of his method seemed in some degree to justify the 

 attribute. In his own neighbourhood, the notoriety of the 

 fact made it seem less remarkable, but I doubt if any in- 

 stance of similar subjugating talent is to be found on record. 

 As far as the sphere of his control extended, the boast of 

 veni vidi vici, was more justly claimed by Sullivan than 

 by Caesar himself. 



" How his art was acquired, and in what it consisted, is 

 likely to be for ever unknown, as he has lately, (about 

 ISIO,) left the world without divulging it. His son, who 

 follows the same trade, possesses but a small portion of the 

 art, having either never learned the true secret, or being 

 incapable of putting it into practice. The wonder of his 

 skill consisted in the celerity of the operation, which was 

 performed in privacy without any apparent means of coer- 

 cion. Every description of Horse, or even mule, whether 

 previously broken or unhandled, whatever their peculiar 

 habits or vices might have been, submitted without show 

 of resistance to the magical influence of his art, and in the 

 short space of half an hour became gentle and tractable. 

 This effect, though instantaneously produced, was gene- 

 rally durable. Though more submissive to him than 

 to others, they seemed to have acquired a docility unknown 

 before. 



" When sent for to tame a vicious beast, for which he 

 was either paid according to the distance, or generally two 

 or three guineas, he directed the stable, in which he and 

 the object of the experiment were, to be shut, with orders 

 not to open the door until a signal was given. After a 

 tete-a-tete of about half an hour, during which little or no 

 bustle was heard, the signal was made, and, upon opening 

 the door, the Horse appeared lying down, and the man bj- 

 his side, playing with him like a child with a puppy dog. 

 From that time he was found perfectly willing to submit 

 to any discipline — however repugnant to his nature be- 

 fore. 'I once,' continues Mr. Townsend, 'saw his skill 

 tiled on a Horse, which could never before be brought to 

 stand for a smith to shoe him. The day after Sullivan's 

 half-hour's lecture, I went, not without some incredulity, 

 to the smith's shop, with many other curious spectators, 

 where we were eye-witnesses of the complete success of 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



his art. This, too, had been a troop Horse, and it was 

 supposed, not without reason, that after regimental disci- 

 pline had failed, no other would be found availing. I ob- 

 served that the animal appeared terrified whenever Sulli- 

 van either spoke or looked at him; how that extraordinary 

 ascendancy could have been obtained, is difficult to con- 

 jecture. 



" In common cases this mysterious preparation was un- 

 necessar}'. He seemed to possess an instinctive power of 

 inspiring awe, the result, perhaps, of natural intrepidity, 

 in which, I believe, a great part of his art consisted; though 

 the circumstance of the tete-a-tete shows that, on particu- 

 lar occasions, something more must have been added to 

 it. A faculty like this would in some hands have made a 

 fortune, and I understand that great offers were made to 

 him, for the exercise of his art abroad. But hunting was 

 his passion. He lived at home in the style most agree- 

 able to his disposition, and nothing could induce him to quit 

 Duhallow and the fox hounds." 



]Mr. Castley witnessed the total failure of the younger 

 Sullivan. He says, " We have in the regiment a remarka- 

 bl}- nice Horse, called Lancer, that has always been very 

 difficult to shoe, but seven or eight years ago, when we 

 first got him, he was downright vicious in that respect. 

 When the regiment was stationed at Cork, the farrier- 

 major sought out the present Sullivan, the son of the cele- 

 brated Whisperer, and brought him up to the barracks in 

 order to try his hand upon Lancer, and make him more 

 peaceable to shoe; but I must say this person did not ap- 

 pear to possess any particular controlling power over the 

 animal, more than any other man. Lancer seemed to pay 

 no attention whatever to his charm, and, at last, fairly beat 

 him out of the forge. Time, however, and a long perse- 

 verance in kind and gentle treatment, have effected what 

 force could not. The Horse is now pretty reasonable to 

 shoe." 



BACKING OR GIBBING. 



One of the first species of restifness, taking them in 

 alphabetical order, is backing or gibbing. These are so 

 closely allied that we hardly know how to separate them. 

 Some Horses have the habit of backing at first starting, 

 and that more from playing than desire of mischief. A 

 moderate application of the whip will usually be effectual. 

 Others, even at starting, exhibit considerable obstinacy 

 and viciousness. This is frequent!}- the effect of bad 

 breaking. Either the shoulder of the Horse had been 

 wrung when he was first put to the collar, or he had been 

 foolishly accustomed to start in the break up-hill, and 

 therefore all his work coming upon him at once, when it 



being much more difficult to draw the break up-hill, than 

 to back and let it run down-hill, he gradually acquired 

 this dangerous habit. 



A hasty and passionate breaker \\\\\ often make a really 

 good-tempered young Horse an inveterate gibber. Every 

 young Horse is at first shy of the collar. If he be too 

 quickly forced to it, he will possibly take a dislike to it, 

 that will occasionally show itself in the form of gibbing as 

 long as he lives. The judicious horse-breaker will resort 

 to no severity, even if the colt should go out several times 

 without touching collar. The example of his companion 

 will ultimately induce him to take to it voluntarily and 

 effectually. 



A large and heavy stone should be put behind the wheel 

 before starting, when the Horse, finding it more difficult 

 to back than to go forward, will gradually forget this 

 unpleasant trick. It will likewise be of advantage, as 

 often as it can be managed, so to start that the Horse shall 

 have to back up-hill. The difficulty of accomplishing this 

 will soon make him readily go forward at once. A little 

 coaxing, or leading, or moderate flagellation, will assist in 

 accomplishing the cure. 



When, however, a Horse, thinking that he has had 

 enough of work, or has been improperly checked or cor- 

 rected, or beginning to feel the painful pressure of the 

 collar, swerves, and gibs, and backs, it is a more serious 

 matter. Persuasion should here first be tried; and, after- 

 wards, reasonable coercion, but no cruelty: for the bru- 

 tality which is often exercised in attempting to compel a 

 gibbing Horse to throw himself habitually into the collar, 

 never yet accomplished the purpose. The Horse may, 

 perhaps, be whipped into motion, but if he has once be- 

 gun to gib, he will have recourse to it again whenever any 

 circumstance displeases or annoys him; and the habit will 

 be rapidly, and so completely formed, that he will become 

 insensible to all severity. 



It is useless and most dangerous to contend with a Horse 

 determined to back, unless there is plenty of room, and, 

 by tight reining, the driver can make him back in the pre- 

 cise direction he wishes, and especially up-hill. Such a 

 Horse should be immediately sold, or turned over to some 

 other work. In a stage-coach as a wheeler, and particu- 

 larly as a near-wheeler; or, in the middle of a team at agri- 

 cultural work, he may be serviceable. It will be useless 

 for him to attempt to gib there, for he will be dragged 

 along by his companions whether he will or no; and, find- 

 ing the inutility of resistance, he will soon be induced to 

 work as well as any Horse in the team. This reformation 

 will last while he is thus employed, but, like restifness 

 generally, it will be delusive when the Horse returns to 

 his former occupation. The disposition to annoy will very 




SHi 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



soon follow the power to do it. Some instances of com- 

 plete reformation have occurred, but they have been rare. 



When a Horse, not often accustomed to gib, betrays a 

 reluctance to work, or a determination not to work, com- 

 mon sense and humanity will demand that some considera- 

 tion should be taken, before measures of severity be re- 

 sorted to. The Horse may be taxed beyond his power. 

 He soon discovers whether this is the case, and by re- 

 fusing to proceed, tells his driver that it is so; and the 

 utmost cruelty will not induce many Horses to make the 

 slightest effort, when they are conscious that their strength 

 is inadequate to the task. Sometimes the withers are 

 wrung, and the shoulders sadly galled; and the pain, which 

 is intense on level ground and with fair draught, becomes 

 insupportable when he tugs up a steep acclivity. These 

 Ihings should be examined into, and, if possible, rectified; 

 for, imder such circumstances, cruelly might produce ob- 

 stinacy and vice, but not willing obedience. 



Those who are accustomed to Horses know what seem- 

 ingly trivial circumstances occasionally produce this vice. 

 A Horse, whose shoulders are raw, or that have frequent- 

 ly been so, will not start with a cold collar. When the 

 collar has acquired the warmth of the parts on which it 

 presses, the animal will go without reluctance. Some de- 

 termined gibbers have been reformed by constantly wear- 

 ing a false collar, or strip of cloth round the shoulders, 

 so that the coldness of the usual collar should never be 

 felt; and others have been cured of gibbing bj' keeping the 

 collar on night and daj^, although the animal is not able to 

 lie down so completely at full length, which the tired 

 Horse is always glad to do. When a Horse gibs, not at 

 starting, but while doing his work, it has sometimes been 

 useful to line the collars with cloth instead of leather; the 

 perspiration is readily absorbed, the substance which 

 presses on the shoulders is softer, and it may be far more 

 accurately eased off at a tender place. 



This is either the consequence of natural ferocity, or a 

 habit acquired from the foolish and teasing play of grooms 

 and stable boys. When a Horse is tickled and pinched 

 by thoughtless and mischievous youths, he will first pre- 

 tend to bite his tormentors; by degrees he will proceed 

 farther, and actually bite them, and, very soon after that, 

 lie will be the first to challenge to the combat, and with- 

 out provocation sieze some opportunity to gripe the in- 

 cautious groom; and then, as the love of mischief is a pro- 

 pensity too easily acquired, this war, half playful, and 

 half in earnest, will become habitual to him, and will de- 

 generate into absolute viciousness. Nothing can here be 



done in the way of cure; kindness would aggravate the 

 evil, and no degree of severity will correct it. Preven- 

 tion, however, is in the power of every proprietor of 

 Horses. While he insists on gentle and humane treat- 

 ment of his cattle, he should systematically forbid this 

 liorse-play. It is that which can never be considered as 

 operating as a reward, and thereby rendering the Horse 

 tractable; nor does it increase the affection of the animal 

 for his groom, because he is annoyed and irritated by being 

 thus incessantly teased. 



GETTING THE CHEEK OF THE BIT INTO THE MOUTH. 



Some Horses that are disposed to be mischievous try to 

 do this, and are very expeit at it. They soon find what 

 advantage it gives them over their driver, who, by this 

 manoeuvre, loses all command. Harsh treatment is here 

 completely out of the question. All that can be done is, 

 by some mechanical contrivance, to render the thing diffi- 

 cult or impossible, and this may be managed by fastening 

 a round piece of leather on the inside of the cheek of the bit. 



This, as a vice, is another consequence of the culpable 

 habit of grooms and stable boys of teasing the Horse. That 

 which is at first an indication of annoyance at the pinch- 

 ing and tickling of the groom, and without any design to 

 injure, gradually becomes the expression of anger, and the 

 effort at mischief. There is no cure for this vice; and he can- 

 not be justified whokeepssuch a kickingHorse in his stable. 



Some Horses acquire a habit of kicking at the stall or 

 the bail, and particularly at night, from mere irritability 

 and fidgettiness. The neighbouring Horses are disturb- 

 ed, and the kicker gets swelled hocks, or some more 

 serious injury. This is also a habit very difficult to cor- 

 rect if suffered to become established. Mares are far more 

 subject to it than Horses. 



Before the habit is inveterately established, a thorn bush 

 or a piece of furze fastened against the partitition or post 

 will sometimes effect a cure. When the Horse finds that 

 he is pretty severely pricked he will not long continue to 

 punish himself. In confirmed cases it may be necessary 

 to have recourse to the log, but the legs are often not a 

 little bruised by it. A rather long and heavy piece of 

 wood attached to a chain is buckled above the hock, so as to 

 reachabouthalfwaydownthe leg. When the Horse attempts 

 to kick violently, his leg will receive a severe blow from 

 this, and the repetition of the blow will soon teach him to 

 be quiet. 



( To be continued.) 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



217 



POLAR BEAR. 



USSUS MARITIMUS. 



[Plate XIX.] 



Ursus Maritimiis, Linn. Ursus Mbus. Briss. Eegne 

 Anim. p. 260. sp. 2. Ours Blanc; Buff. Supp. torn. 

 3. jo/.34. Ours Blanc: Desm. Mam. p. 10. sp. 257. 

 The Polar Bear: Penn. Syn. quad. p. 192. tab. 20. 

 Jig. 1. Pallas, spicil. Zool. xiv. tab. 1. — Menagerie 

 Living Animals, exhibited in Philadelphia, winter of 

 1S32— 3. 



In the desolate regions of the north, where unrelent- 

 ing winter reigns in full appanage of horrors during the 

 greater part of the year, and even the stormy ocean itself 

 is long imprisoned by "thick ribbed ice," the Polar 

 Bear finds his most congenial abode. There, prowling 

 over the frozen wastes, he satiates his hunger on the car- 

 casses of whales deserted by the adventurous fishermen, 

 or seizes on such marine animals as come up to bask in 

 open air; and when occasion calls, he fearlessly plunges 

 into the sea in pursuit of his prey, as if the deep were his 

 native and familiar element To most other animals ex- 

 treme cold is distressing and injurious; to him it is wel- 

 come and delightful: to him the glistening ice-bank or 

 snow-wreathed shore, canopied by louring and tempestu- 

 ous clouds, are far more inviting and agreeable, than ver- 

 dant hills or sunny skies. 



Being endowed with extremely acute senses, great 

 strength, and a savagely ferocious disposition withal, it is 

 not surprising that this animal is dreaded as the most for- 

 midable quadruped of the region he inhabits. Notwith- 

 standing his great size and apparent heaviness, he is very 

 active, and though his ordinary gait may appear clumsy, 

 when excited by rage or hunger, his speed on the ice far 

 exceeds that of the swiftest man. 



When on an extensive ice-field, the Polar Bear is often 

 observed to ascend the knobs or hummocks, for the pur- 

 pose of reconnoitering, or he stands with head erect to 

 snuff the tainted air, which informs him where to find the 

 whale carrion at astonishing distances. This substance, 

 so unpleasant and disgusting to human sense, is a 

 luxurious banquet to the bear, and a piece of it thrown on 

 a fire will allure him from a distance of several miles. 



A considerable part of the Polar Bear's food is sup- 

 plied by seals, but very probably he suffers long fasts and 

 extreme hunger, owing to the peculiar vigilance of these 

 creatures; occasionally he is much reduced by being car- 

 ried out to sea on a small island of ice, where he may be 

 Iii 



forced to remain for a week or more without an opportu- 

 nity of procuring food. In this situation they have been 

 seen on ice-islands two hundred miles distant from land, 

 and sometimes they are drifted to the shores of Iceland, 

 or Norway, where they are so ravenous as to destroy all 

 the animals they find. Most commonly such invaders 

 are soon destroyed, as the natives collect in large num- 

 bers and commence an immediate pursuit, but frequently 

 do not succeed in killing them, before many of their flocks 

 are thinned. An individual Polar Bear has occasionally 

 been carried on the ice as far south as Newfoundland, but 

 this circumstance very rarely occurs. 



This animal swims excellently, and advances at the 

 rate of three miles an hour. During the summer season 

 he principally resides on the ice-islands, and leaves one 

 to visit another, however great be the distance. If inter- 

 rupted while in the water, he dives and changes his course; 

 but he neither dives very often, nor does he remain under 

 water for a long time. Captain Ross saw a Polar Bear 

 swimming midway in Melville Sound, where the shores 

 were full forty miles apart, and no ice was in sight large 

 enough for him to have rested on. The best time for 

 attacking him is when he is in the water; on ice or land 

 he has so many advantages that the aggressor is always in 

 danger. Even in the water he has frequently proved a 

 formidable antagonist, has boarded and taken possession 

 of a small boat, forcing the occupants to seek safety by 

 leaping overboard. Instances are related in which this 

 animal has climbed up the sides of small vessels, and been 

 with difficulty repelled from the deck. 



Generally the Polar Bear retreats from man; but when 

 pursued and attacked he always resents the aggression, 

 and turns furiously on his enemy. When struck at with 

 a lance, he is very apt to seize and bite the staff in two, 

 or wrest it from the hands. Should a ball be fired at him, 

 without taking effect in the head or heart, his rage is in- 

 creased, and he seeks revenge with augmented fury. It 

 has been remarked that, when wounded and able to make 

 his escape, he applies snow to the wound, as if aware that 

 cold would check the flow of blood. 



A great majority of the fatal accidents following en- 

 gagements with the Polar Bear, have resulted from im- 

 prudently attacking the animal on the ice. Scoresby, in 

 his interesting narrative of a voyage to Greenland, relates 

 an instance of this kind. "A few years ago, when one 

 of the Davis' Strait whalers was closely beset among the 

 ice at the ' south west,' or on the coast of Labrador, a 

 bear that had been for some time seen near the ship, at 

 length became so bold as to approach alongside, probably 

 tempted by the offal of the provision thrown overboard 

 by the cook. At this time the people were all at dirfner. 




!1S 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



no one being required to keep the deck in the then im- 

 movable condition of the ship. A hardy fellow who first 

 looked out, perceiving the bear so near, imprudently 

 jumped upon the ice, armed only with a handspike, with 

 a view, it is supposed, of gaining all the honour of the ex- 

 ploit of securing so fierce a visitor by himself But the 

 bear, regardless of such weapons, and sharpened probably 

 by hunger, disarmed his antagonist, and seizing him by 

 the back with his powerful jaws, carried him off with such 

 celerity, that on his dismayed comrades rising from their 

 meal and looking abroad, he was so far beyond their 

 reach as to defy their pursuit." 



"A circumstance, communicated to me by Captain 

 Munroe of the Neptune, of rather a humorous nature as 

 to the result, arose out of an equally imprudent attack 

 made on a bear, in the Greenland fishery of 1820, by a 

 seaman employed in one of the Hull whalers. The ship 

 was moored to a piece of ice, on which, at a considerable 

 distance, a large bear was observed prowling about for 

 prey. One of the ship's company, emboldened by an 

 artificial courage, derived from the free use of rum, which 

 in his economy he had stored for special occasions, un- 

 dertook to pursue and attack the bear that was within 

 view. Armed only with a whale-lance, he resolutely, 

 and against all persuasion, set out on his adventurous ex- 

 ploit. A fatiguing journey of about half a league, over a 

 yielding surfaceof snow and rugged hummocks, brought him 

 within a few yards of the enemy, which, to his surprise, un- 

 dauntedly faced him, and seemed to invite him to the com- 

 bat. His courage being by this time greatly subdued, 

 partly by evaporation of the stimulus, and partly by the 

 undisma3'ed and even threatening aspect of the bear, he 

 levelled his lance, in an attitude suited either for offen- 

 sive or defensive action, and stopped. The bear also stood 

 still; in vain the adventurer tried to rally courage to make 

 the attack; his enemy was too formidable, and his appear- 

 ance too imposing. In vain also he shouted, advanced 

 his lance, and made feints of attack; the enemy, either 

 not understanding or despising such unmanliness, obsti- 

 nately stood his ground. Already the limbs of the sailor 

 began to quiver; but the fear of ridicule from his mess- 

 mates had its influence, and he yet scarcely dared to re- 

 treat. Bruin, liowever, possessing less reflection, or being 

 regardless of consequences, began, with audacious bold- 

 ness, to advance. His nigh approach and unshaken step 

 subdued the spark of bravery and that dread of ridicule 

 that had hitherto upheld our adventurer; he turned and 

 fled. But now was the time of danger; the sailor's flight 

 encouraged the bear in turn to pursue, and being better 

 practised in snow-travelling, and better provided for it, 

 he rapidly gained upon the fugitive. The whale-lanccj 



his only defence, encumbered him in his retreat, he threw 

 it down, and kept on. This fortunately excited the bear's 

 attention; he stopped, pawed it, bit it, and then renewed 

 the chase. Again he was at the heels of the panting sea- 

 man, who, conscious of the favourable effects of the lance, 

 dropped one of his mittens; the stratagem succeeded, and 

 while Bruin again stopped to examine it, the fugitive, im- 

 proving the interval, made considerable progress a-head. 

 Still the bear resumed the pursuit with a most provoking 

 perseverance, except when arrested by another mitten, 

 and, finally, by a hat, which he tore to shreds between 

 his fore-teeth and paws, and would, no doubt, soon have 

 made the incautious adventurer his victim, who was now 

 rapidly losing strength, but for the prompt and well-timed 

 assistance of his shipmates — who, observing that the afiair 

 had assumed a dangerous aspect, sallied out to his rescue. 

 The little phalanx opened him a passage, and then closed 

 to receive the bold assailant. Though now beyond the 

 reach of his adversary, the dismayed fugitive continued 

 onwards, impelled by his fears, and never relaxed his ex- 

 ertions, until he fairly reached the shelter of his ship. 

 The bear once more came to a stand, and for a moment 

 seemed to survey his enemies, with all the consideration 

 of an experienced general; when, finding them too nume- 

 rous for a hope of success, he very wisely wheeled 

 about, and succeeded in making a safe and honourable re- 

 treat."* 



The Polar Bear is stated to be generally four or five 

 feet high, from seven to eight feet long, and nearly the 

 same in circumference. Individuals have frequently been 

 met with of much greater size; Barenlz killed one in 

 Cherie Island, whose skin measured thirteen feet.t The 

 weight is generally from six to eight hundred pounds. 

 The hair of the body is long, and of a yellowish white 

 colour, and is very shaggy about the inside of the legs. 

 The paws are seven inches or more in breadth, with claws 

 two inches long. In some individuals, the canine teeth 

 have been found an inch and a half long, exclusive of the 

 portion imbedded in the jaw: the strength of the jaws is 

 veiy great, and enables the animal to inflict dreadful in- 

 jury when he bites. 



The following measurements are from an individual, 



* Scoresby's Greenland Voyage. 



t Desmarest states in a note tliat the largest individuals of this spe- 

 cies wliich have been observed, are not more than six feet seven inches 

 long. This does not agree with the accounts given by many northern 

 voyagers: we have selected Captain Robs' measurements, (not be- 

 cause the individual from which they were taken is tlie largest that 

 has been seen,) but because his scientific character is so generally 

 and advantageously known. It would have been very easy to have 

 selected measurements of larger specimens, from other sources. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



killed during Captain Ross' voyage, in the vicinity of 

 Prince William's Sound: — 



Length, from the snout to the tail, 6 feet 8 inches, 

 to the shoulder-blade, 2 10 



Circumference near the fore-legs, 6 



of the neck, - - 3 2 



Breadth of the fore-paw, - - 10 



of the hind-foot, - - SJ 



Circumference of the hind-leg, - 1 10 

 of the fore-leg, - 1 8 



of the snout, before 



the eyes, - 1 8 



Length of the snout to the occiput, 1 6 



Height to the fore-shoulder, - 4 



Fore-claws, ... - 2j 



Hind-claws, - - - - 1| 



Tail, 4 



Weightof the animal, after losing thirty pounds of blood, 

 II3I2 pounds. 



We have stated that the Polar Bear preys on seals, fish, 

 and the carcasses of wliales; it also preys on birds, and 

 their eggs, and not unfrequently destroys young whales 

 and walruses: it is also said to disinter human bodies, and 

 devour them with great greediness. Occasionally they 

 break into the huts of the Greenlanders, attracted by the 

 smell of seal's flesh, on which these people almost exclu- 

 sively subsist. Yet we are credibly informed, that, when 

 their accustomed food is to be obtained in sufScient quantity, 

 they neither show much disposition to attack men, nor 

 cattle, however accessible these may be. 



In the morse or walrus, this bear has an enemy of great 

 power and fierceness, with which he has at times dread- 

 ful combats, most generally terminating in the defeat of 

 the bear, as the walrus is armed with long tusks, capable 

 of giving deadly wounds. The whale is also a perpetual 

 enemy of the Polar Bear, chasing him from the waters it 

 frequents, and killing him by blows with its tail. Not- 

 withstanding, the bear succeeds in catching and feasting 

 on many of the young whales. 



The dwelling place of the Polar Bear on shore, is by 

 no means well ascertained, but is most probably in caves, 

 or in some well concealed situation; it has been stated, 

 that they reside, during winter, in excavations made in 

 the permanent ice — but Fabricius, from personal observa- 

 tion, declares the statement to be incorrect. Certainly 

 this animal does not often go to any great distance from 

 the sea, on which he is almost exclusively dependent for 

 food. Hence the flesh of the Polar Bear is generally 

 fishy and rank, though it is said to be whitish, and simi- 

 lar to mutton. Captain Cook's people always preferred it 

 to the flesh of tiie walrus or morse, yet they never con- 



sidered it a very desirable food, except when none other 

 was to be obtained. The fat resembles tallow, becoming 

 as clear as whale-oil after liquefaction, and free from disa- 

 greeable smell; the oil obtained from the feet has been 

 used medicinally, but except in fineness, has no qualities 

 which the oil of other parts does not possess. 



One of the most singular facts relative to the Polar Bear 

 is, that its liver is to a great degree poisonous, a circum- 

 stance unknown in almost every other animal. Three 

 of Barent's sailors were very much injured bj^ eating of 

 it; and Captain Ross, in his late Arctic voyage, verified 

 the observation by experiment. The principle which im- 

 parts this noxious quality to the liver, is as yet undis- 

 covered; we know of no article of diet used by the animal 

 to which it can be attributed, and even if we did, this 

 would notaccount for the deleteriousness of the liver, while 

 all other parts of the body remain free from any injm-ious 

 property. 



The skin of the Polar Bear, dressed with the hair on, 

 forms very substantial mats for carriages, or hall floors. 

 The Greenlanders sometimes take it oflf without ripping 

 up, and inverting the skin, form a very warm sack, which 

 serves the purpose of a bed, the person getting into it 

 in order to sleep comfortably. It cannot well be dressed 

 at any other than the winter season, on account of its great 

 greasiness when freshly removed from the animal. The 

 nations residing in the vicinity of Hudson's Bay dress 

 it in the following manner: they first stretch it out on a 

 smooth patch of snow, and stake it down, where it soon 

 becomes stifly frozen. While in this condition the women 

 scrape ofi" all the fat till they come to the very roots of 

 the hair. It is occasionally permitted to remain in that 

 situation for a considerable time, and when taken up it is 

 suspended in the open air. When the frost is very in- 

 tense, it dries most perfectly; with a little more scraping 

 it becomes entirely dry and supple, both skin and hair 

 being beautifully white. Notwithstanding that this Bear 

 is so large and powerful, his skin is both light and 

 spongy. 



The time of the year at which the sexes seek eacli 

 other is not positively known, but it is most probably in 

 the month of July, or of August. Hearne, who is an ex- 

 cellent authority, relates that he has seen them killed 

 during this season, when the males exhibited an extreme 

 degree of attachment to their companions. After a female 

 was killed, the male placed his fore paws over her, and 

 allowed himself to be shot rather than relinquish her dead 

 body. 



The pregnant females during winter seek shelter near 

 the skirt of the woods, where they excavate dens in the 

 deepest snow-drifts, and remain there in a state of torpid 




THE CABINET OP NATURAL HISTORY, 



inaction, %vithout food, from the latter part of December 

 or January till about the end of March; then they relin- 

 quish their dens to seek food on the sea-shore, accompa- 

 nied by their cubs, which are usually two in number. The 

 size of the cubs is very small; when they first leave the 

 cave with the mother they are not larger than rabbits; 

 yet we have seen that the weight of the full grown ani- 

 mal sometimes exceeds a thousand pounds. Hearne states 

 that he has seen them not larger than a white fox, and 

 their foot-prints on the snow not larger than a crown 

 ])iece, when the impression of their dam's foot measured 

 upwards of fourteen inches long by nine in breadth. This 

 length and breadth appear excessive, and were probably 

 rather more than the actual size of the foot itself, as the 

 impression of the hair projecting over the feet would give an 

 appearance in the snow which might lead to an incorrect 

 notion of the size of the animal. The enterprising observer 

 above mentioned is of opinion that these animals breed 

 when very young, or at least when half grown, as he has 

 killed young females "not larger than a London calf," 

 having milk in their teats; "whereas one of the full 

 grown ones are heavier than the largest of our common 

 uxen. Indeed, I was once at the killing of one, when 

 one of its hind feet, being cut off at the ancle, weighed 

 fifty-four pounds. 



The female Polar Bear is as rugged in her appearance, 

 and as savagely ferocious in disposition, as her mate; yet 

 to her offspring she displays a tenderness of affection 

 which strongly contrasts with her fierce and sanguinary 

 temper. When her cubs are exposed, danger has no ex- 

 istence to her, and nothing but death can compel her to 

 desist from struggling desperately to defend or save them. 

 The death of her offspring is with great difficulty acknow- 

 ledged by the parent; when they are shot by her side the 

 poor beast solicits their attention by ever}^ fond artifice, 

 nnd endeavours to awaken them from their unnatural 

 sleep: she offers them food, licks their wounds, caresses 

 and moans over them in such a manner as to evince a 

 degree of feeling which could scarcel}^ be anticipated from 

 so rude and terrible a quadruped. 



Numerous instances of this fondness of attachment have 

 been observed, and some of them attended with most sin- 

 gular displays of sagacity on the part of the mother. The 

 following circumstance is related in Scoresby's account of 

 the Arctic Regions, and is entitled to the fullest cre- 

 dence, because coming from so competent and excellent 

 an observer: 



" A she-bear, with her two cubs, were pursued on the 

 ice by some of the men, and were so closely approached, 

 as to alarm the mother for the safety of her offspring. 

 Finding that they could not advance with the desired 



speed, she used various artifices to urge them forward, 

 but without success. Determined to save them, if possi- 

 ble, she ran to one of the cubs, placed her nose under it, 

 and threw it forward as far as possible; then going to the 

 other, she performed the same action, and repeated it 

 frequently until she had thus conveyed them to a conside- 

 rable distance. The young bears seemed perfectly con- 

 scious of their mother's intention, for as soon as they re- 

 covered their feet, after being thrown forward, they im- 

 mediately ran on in the proper direction, and when the 

 mother came up to renew the effort, the little rogues uni- 

 formly placed themselves across her path, that they might 

 receive the full advantage of the force exerted for their 

 safety. " 



The most affecting instance on record of the maternal 

 affection exhibited by this bear, is related in one of the 

 Polar Voyages; it conveys so excellent an idea of this 

 creature's strong feeling of parental love, that we should 

 deem the history of the animal imperfect, were such an 

 illustration omitted. 



"Early in the morning, the man at the mast-head gave 

 notice that three bears were making their way very fast 

 over the ice, and directing their course towards the ship. 

 They had probably been invited by the blubber of a sea- 

 horse, which the men had set on fire, and which 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, which remained unconsumed, and ate it vora- 

 ciously. The crew from the ship threw great pieces of 

 the flesh, which they had still left, upon the ice, which 

 the old bear carried away singly, laid every piece before 

 her cubs, and dividing them, gave each a share, reserving 

 but a small portion to herself. As she was carrying away 

 the last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs, 

 and shot them both dead; and in her retreat, they wound- 

 ed the dam, but not mortally. 



"It would have drawn tears of pity from any but un- 

 feeling minds, to have marked the affectionate concern 

 manifested by this poor beast, in the last 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 fetched away, as she had 

 done the others before, tore it in pieces, and laid it down 

 before them; and when she saw they refused to eat, she 

 laid her paws first upon one, and then upon the other, and 

 endeavoured to raise them up. All this while it was piteous 

 to hear her moan. When she found she could not stir 

 them, she went off; and when at some distance, looked 

 back and moaned; and that not availing to entice them 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



away, she returned, and smelling around them, began to 

 lick their wounds. She went off a second time, as be- 

 fore; and having crawled a few paces looked again behind 

 her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her 

 cubs not rising to follow her, she returned to them again, 

 and with signs of inexpressible fondness, went round first 

 one and then the other, pawing them, and moaning. Find- 

 ing at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her 

 head towards the ship, and growled her resentment at the 

 murderers; which they returned with a volley of musket 

 balls. She fell between her cubs, and died licking their 

 wounds." 



The sagacity of the Polar Bear is well known to the 

 whale fishers, who often find all their ingenuity insuffi- 

 cient to entrap him, as the following instance may serve to 

 show. A noose, baited with a piece of " Ave;;^," or whale 

 carcass, was placed at a proper distance from the ship, 

 which soon attracted the attention of a large bear. In 

 attempting to secure the bait, the animal by some move- 

 ment drew the noose, so as to catch him by one of his 

 fore-paws. Apparently unconcerned by this circum- 

 stance, and conscious of knowing how to free himself from 

 restraint, he quietly loosened the slip-knot with the other 

 paw, and leisurely walked off to enjoy his morsel. The 

 trap was again baited, and the bear once more approach- 

 ed to obtain his favourite food, but, grown wise by expe- 

 rience, he carefully avoided the rope, and carried off the 

 bait, to the mortification of the captain, who wished to ob- 

 tain his skin. The whaler, resolved to baffle the address 

 of the bear, re-arranged his noose once more, carefully 

 burying the rope at a considerable depth in the snow: but 

 his precautions were unavailing; the bear cautiously ex- 

 amined the vicinity, scented the ground with attention, 

 detected the situation of the rope, dug it up and threw it 

 out of his way; then securing his prize, he once more 

 triumphantly withdrew to enjoy it.* 



Captain Scoresby shot a she-bear and took her two cubs 

 alive, as they did not offer to leave the body of their 

 mother, and he kept them on board of his ship, until they 

 were tame enough to be allowed to go about the deck. 

 On one occasion a cub, tied by the neck with a long rope, 

 was allowed to go out of the ship, when he immediately 

 swam to the ice, and as soon as- he attained it, made a vio- 

 lent effort to break the rope by running at full speed until 

 he put the rope as suddenly on the stretch as possible. 

 Failing in his first attempt, he went back far enough to 

 slacken the cord, and again renewed his race, in ordei', if 

 possible, to break it. Convinced by these experiments, 



* See Scoresby's Arctic Reg-ions, vol. 1, whence several of these 

 anecdote's are sketched. 



Kxk 



that it was a hopeless attempt, he lay down, sullenly 

 growling his vexation. Another artifice resorted to by 

 this animal was still more singular; passing a chasm or fis- 

 sure in the ice, about eighteen inches or two feet wide, 

 and three or four feet deep, the slack, (or bight) of his 

 rope dropped into it; young Bruin returned, and going 

 down head foremost into the chasm, he hung by the edges, 

 holding on with one hind-foot on each side of it, and tried 

 with both his fore-paws to loosen the rope and slip it off 

 his head, as if he was aware that in this position he would 

 be assisted by the weight of the portion which had drop- 

 ped lower into the cavity. 



The Polar Bear, like the other species of this genus, is 

 able to live exclusively on vegetable food, as has been re- 

 peatedly proved by experiment on those brought to 

 Europe. One which was exhibited in France, ate six 

 pounds of bread a-daj', and was altogether fed with this 

 substance. It appears that tlie carnivorous habits of this 

 animal, are greatly dependent on the circumstances of its 

 situation, for being placed where vegetation is exceeding- 

 ly scanty, if it even exists at all, and surrounded by seals, 

 fish, &c., there can be no choice; notwithstanding, the ani- 

 mal is provided by nature with proper organs for the mas- 

 tication and digestion of vegetable food. 



The Polar Bear in captivity seems to suffer much from 

 heat, which renders his confinement very uncomfortable, 

 as is expressed by his restlessness and roaring. This is in 

 some degree quieted b}' repeatedly throwing buckets of 

 cold water over his body, which is always grateful and 

 refreshing. 



As far north as navigators have yet advanced. Polar 

 Bears have been found, but their numbers evidently dimin- 

 ish where seals are scarce, while they are very numerous 

 where seals are found in greatest abundance. Near the 

 east coast of Greenland they have been seen in large 

 flocks, at a distance resembling sheep more than beasts of 

 prey. On the shores of the Arctic Ocean, Spitzbergen, 

 Greenland, and Nova Zembla, from the river Ob in Sibe- 

 ria, to the mouths of the Jenesei and Lena, and in the vicinity 

 of Hudson's Bay, they are found in various degrees of 

 abundance. 



The Polar Bear is peculiarly distinguished from other 

 species of this genus by the length of the body, compared 

 with its height, by the length of the neck, the smallness 

 of the external ears, and length of the soles of the feet; 

 which, according to Cuvier, are one-sixth of the whole 

 length of the animal. In the fineness and length of its 

 pelage it also differs materially from the other species. 

 The forehead and muzzle of the Polar Bear are nearly on 

 the same line, or flat; while in the European or brown 

 bear, they are separated by a deep depression. In the 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



black, or American bear, the profile is rather an arched 

 line, and in the grizzly bear it is slightly convex between 

 the eyes. The forehead of the Polar Bear is flat; the Euro- 

 pean bear has it rounded. The Polar Bear has the head 

 narrow and the muzzle large; the brown bear has the head 

 large and the muzzle narrow. — Godman's Nat. Hist. 



SWALLOWS. 



The house-swallow, or chimney-swallow, is, undoubt- 

 edly, the first comer of all the British hirundines; and ap- 

 pears in general on or about the 13th of April, as I have 

 remarked from many years' observation. Not but now 

 and then a straggler is seen much earlier: and, in particu- 

 lar, when I was a boy I observed a Swallow for a whole 

 day together on a sunny warm Shrove Tuesday; which 

 day could not fall out later than the middle of March, and 

 often happened earlier in February. 



It is worth remarking, that these birds are seen first 

 about lakes and mill-ponds; and it is also very particular, 

 that if these early visitors happen to find frost and snow, 

 as was the case of the two dreadful springs of 1770 and 1771, 

 they immediately withdraw for a time; a circumstance 

 tills, much more in favour of hiding than migration; since 

 it is much more probable that a bird should retire to its 

 hybernaculum just at hand, than return for a week or two 

 only to warmer latitudes. 



The Swallow, though called the chimney-swallow, by 

 no means builds altogether in chimneys, but often within 

 barns and out-houses against the rafters; and so she did in 

 Vir<<;il's time — 



Garrula quam tignis nidos suspendat hirimdo." 



In Sweden she builds in barns, and is called ladu swala, 

 the barn-swallow. Besides, in the warmer parts of Europe 

 there arc no chimneys to houses, except they are English 

 built; in these countries she constructs her nests in porches, 

 and gate-ways, and galleries, and open halls. 



Here and there a bird may afifect some odd, peculiar 

 place; as we have known a swallow build down the shaft 

 of an old well, through which chalk had been formerly 

 drawn up for the purpose of manure; but, in general, with 

 us this hirundo breeds in chimneys, and loves to haunt 

 those stacks where there is a constant fire, no doubt for 

 the sake of warmth. Not that it can subsist in the imme- 

 diate shaft where there is a fire, but prefers one adjoin- 

 ing to that of a kitchen, and disregards the perpetual smoke 



of that funnel, as I have often observed with some degree 

 of wonder. 



Five or six, or more feet down the chimney, does this 

 little bird begin to form her nest about the middle of May, 

 which consists, like that of the house-martin, of a crust or 

 shell composed of dirt or mud, mixed with short pieces 

 of straw, to render it tough and permanent; with this differ- 

 ence, that whereas the shell of the martin is nearly hemis- 

 pheric, that of the Swallow is open at the top, and like 

 half a deep dish: this nest is lined with fine grasses 

 and feathers, which are often collected as they float in 

 the air. 



Wonderful is the address which this adroit bird shows 

 all day long in ascending and descending with security 

 through so narrow a pass. When hovering over the mouth 

 of the funnel, the vibrations of her wings acting on the 

 confined air occasion a rumbling like thunder. It is not 

 improbable that the dam submits to this inconvenient situa- 

 tion so low in the shaft, in order to secure her broods from 

 rapacious birds, and particularly from owls, which fre- 

 quently fall down chimneys, perhaps in attempting to get 

 at these nestlings. 



The Swallow lays from four to six white eggs, dotted 

 with red specks, and brings out her first brood about the 

 last week in June, or the first week in July. The pro- 

 gressive method by which the young are introduced into 

 life is very amusing: first, they emerge from the shaft 

 with difficulty enough, and often fall down into the rooms 

 below: for a day or so they are fed on the chimney top, 

 and then are conducted to the dead leafless bough of some 

 tree, where, sitting in a row, they are attended with great 

 assiduity, and may then be called perchers. In a day or 

 two more they become fliers, but are still unable to take 

 their own food; therefore they pla)'- about near the place 

 where the dams are hawking; and when a mouthful is col- 

 lected, at a certain signal given, the dam and the nestling 

 advance, rising towards each other, and meeting at an 

 angle; the young one all the while uttering such a little 

 quick note of gratitude and complacency, that a person 

 must have paid very little regard to the wonders of nature 

 that has not often remarked this feat. 



The dam betakes herself immediately to the business 

 of a second brood, as soon as she is disengaged from her 

 first; which at once associates with the first broods of 

 house-martins; and with them congregates, clustering on 

 sunny roofs, towers, and trees. This hirundo brings 

 out her second brood towards the middle and end of 

 August. 



All the summer long is the Swallow a most instructive 

 pattern of unwearied industry and afiection; for, from 

 morning to night, while there is a family to be support- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



ed, she spends tlie whole day in skimming close to the 

 ground, and exerting the most sudden turns and quick 

 evolutions. Avenues, and long walks under hedges, and 

 pasture-fields, and mown meadows where cattle graze, are 

 her delight, especially if there are trees interspersed; be- 

 cause in such spots insects most abound. When a fly is 

 taken a smart snap from her bill is heard, resembling the 

 noise at the shutting of a watch-case; but the motion of 

 the mandibles is too quick for the eye. 



The Swallow, probably the male bird, is the excubiter 

 to house-martins, and other little birds, announcing the 

 approach of birds of prey. For as soon as a hawk ap- 

 pears, with a shrill alarming note, he calls all the Swal- 

 lows and martins about him; who pursue in a body, and 

 buffet and strike their enemy till they have driven him 

 from the village, darting down from above on his back, 

 and rising in a perpendicular line in perfect security. 

 This bird also will sound the alarm, and strike at cats 

 when they climb on the roofs of houses, or otherwise ap- 

 proach the nests. Each species of hirundo drinks as it 

 flies along, sipping the surface of the water; but the Swal- 

 low alone, in general, washes on the wing, by dropping 

 into a pool for many times together: in very hot weather 

 house-martins and bank-martins dip and wash a little. 



The Swallow is a delicate songster, and in soft sunny 

 weather sings both perching and flying, on trees in a kind 

 of concert, and on chimney tops; is also a bold flier, rang- 

 ing to distant downs and commons even in windy wea- 

 ther, which the other species seem much to dislike; nay, 

 even frequenting exposed seaport towns, and making little 

 excursions over the salt water. Horsemen on wide downs 

 are often closely attended by a little party of Swallows 

 for miles together, which plays before and behind them, 

 sweeping around, and collecting all the skulking insects 

 that are aroused by the trampling of the horses' feet. 

 When the wind blows hard, without this expedient, 

 they are often forced to settle to pick up their lurking 

 prey. 



This species feeds much on little coleoptera, as well as 

 on gnats and flics, and often settles on dug grounds, or 

 paths, for gravels to grind and digest its food. Before 

 they depart, for some weeks, to a bird they forsake houses 

 and chimneys, and roost in trees, and usually withdraw 

 about the beginning of October, though some few strag- 

 glers may appear on at times till the first week in No- 

 vember. 



Some few pairs haunt the new and open streets of Lon- 

 don next the fields, but do not enter, like the house-mar- 

 tin, the close and crowded parts of the city. 



Both male and female are distinguished from their con- 

 geners by the length and forkedness of their tails. They 



are undoubtedly the most nimble of all the species; and 

 when the male pursues the female in amorous chase, they 

 then go beyond their usual speed, and exert a rapidity al- 

 most too quick for the eye to follow. 



After this circumstantial detail of the life and discern- 

 ing f'TOfyr. of the Swallow, I shall add, for your farther 

 amusement, an anecdote or two, not much in favour of 

 her sagacity: — 



A certain Swallow built for two years together on the 

 handles of a pair of garden-shears, that were stuck up 

 against the boards in an out-house, and therefore must 

 have her nest spoiled whenever that implement was want- 

 ed. And, what is stranger still, another bird of the same 

 species built its nest on the wings and body of an owl that 

 happened by accident to hang dead and dry from the rafter 

 of a barn. This owl, with the nest on its wings, and with 

 eggs in the nest, was brought as a curiosity worthy the 

 most elegant private museum in Great Britain. The owner, 

 struck with the oddity of the sight, furnished the bringer 

 with a large shell, or conch, desiring him to fix it just 

 where the owl hung. The person did as he was ordered; 

 and the following year a pair, probably the same pair, 

 built their nest in the conch, and laid their eggs. 



The owl and the conch made a strange, grotesque ap- 

 pearance, and are not the least curious specimens in that 

 wonderful collection of art and nature.* 



Thus is instinct in animals, taken the least out of its 

 way, an undistinguishing, limited faculty, and blind to 

 every circumstance that does not immediately respect self- 

 preservation, or lead at once to the propagation or support 

 of their species;. — Nat. Hist, of Selborne. 



THE LESSER AMERICAN FLYING SQUIRREL. 



It would be difficult to find in the entire class of quad- 

 rupeds a more graceful little creature, or one better fitted 

 for a lady's pet, than this elegant animal. Its diminutive 

 size, the singularity of its form, the expression of its phy- 

 siognomy, the vivacity of its motions, and the gentleness 

 of its disposition, all combine to render it one of the most 

 interesting, as well as the most beautiful, of a beautiful 

 and interesting tribe. 



The group to which this attractive little animal be- 

 longs are principally distinguished from the common 

 Squirrels by what is usually termed their flying 

 membrane. This apparatus consists of a folding of^ 

 the skin along either side so as to form broad late- 



* Sir Ashton Lever's Museum. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ral expansions, supported anteriorly and posteriorly by the 

 limbs between which they are extended, and by peculiar 

 bony processes arising from the feet. These expansions 

 are not naked and membranous like those of the bats, but 

 are actual continuations of the skin clothed externally by 

 a dense fur similar to that which invests every other part 

 of the body. Neither do they serve, like the flying mem- 

 branes of many of the bats, the purposes of wings; their 

 functions being limited to that of a parachute, giving to 

 the animal a considerable degree of buoyancy, and thus 

 enabling it to take leaps of almost incredible extent, 

 through which it passes with the velocity of an arrow. 

 The name of Flying Squirrels is consequently founded on 

 an erroneous assumption; but it may nevertheless be admit- 

 ted as a metaphorical expression of their most distinguish- 

 ing peculiarity. 



The Flying Squirrels were but little known to the earlier 

 naturalists. Even down to the time of Linnaeus no clear 

 distinction was made between those of America and the 

 Polatouche of Siberia and northern Europe. It was Pal- 

 las who first pointed out with precision the actual differ- 

 ences between the latter and the more common of the Ame- 

 rican species, which had been figured by BufTon under 

 the Polish name in the erroneous idea that it was really 

 the Polatouche. A third species was indicated by Foster 

 in a brief notice of a collection made in Hudson's Bay, 

 published in the Philosophical Transactions. This has 

 since been more fully characterized by Dr. Richardson, 

 who, however, appears to be by no means satisfied of the 

 correctness of its separation from the species found in the 

 north of the Old Continent. The same distinguished tra- 

 veller had himself added a fourth to the list from the val- 

 leys of the Rocky INIountains; but he has subsequently re- 

 duced it to the rank of a variety only, and offers a guarded 

 opinion that both it and the last may, without much vio- 

 lence, be united to the Polatouche. In that case the Fly- 

 ing Squirrels of the temperate zone would all be still re- 

 ferable to the two species originally established by Pallas. 

 They closely agree in general form with the true Squirrels; 

 but are of a smaller size, have rounder heads, and larger 

 and more prominent eyes. 



The lesser Flying Squirrel is little more than half as 

 large as the more northern species, from which it also dif- 

 fers in many particulars of form, colouring, and habits. 

 Its tail is longer in proportion, measuring three-fourths of 

 the length of the head and body; and its head is somewhat 

 more produced in front. On its upper surface the animal 

 is of a bright mouse-colour, with a tinge of fawn, which is 

 entirely wanting in the other species; the under surface is 

 nearly pure white. The lateral expansions have fawn- 

 coloured margins, bordering a black band; and with only 



a slight rounded lobe at their anterior extremity on either 

 side. The tail is of the same colour as the body, but more 

 dusky beneath; the eyes are surrounded b}- broad black 

 circles; the whiskers are long and black; and the ears rather 

 large, somewhat pointed at the tips, and nearly naked on 

 the surface. The length of the head and body never ex- 

 ceeds five inches. 



Like the other Squirrels these animals feed on nuts, 

 acorns, and young shoots. Of the former they store up 

 a sufficient quantity for their winter subsistence in their 

 nests, which are built on trees in a very artificial manner, 

 and are each capable of containing several individuals. 

 They seldom stir out during the day, but become lively 

 and active during the night, foraging in parties of ten or 

 twelve, and bounding from tree to tree with astonishing 

 agility. "They will fly," says Catesby, "fourscore 

 yards from one tree to another. They cannot rise in their 

 flight, nor keep in a horizontal line, but descend gradual- 

 ly, so that in proportion to the distance the tree they de- 

 sign to fly to is from them, so much the higher they mount 

 on the tree they fly from, that they may reach some part 

 of the tree, even the lowest, rather than fall to the ground, 

 which exposes them to peril. But having once recover- 

 ed the trunk of a tree, no animal seems nimble enough to 

 take them." In captivity they seem to be perfectly happy 

 and contented, and though shy at first, soon become fami- 

 liar with those who treat them with kindness. 



[Gcn-dens of Zoological Society. 



EMIGRATION OF BIRDS. 



Ajiongst the dispensations of an inscrutable Provi- 

 dence, the migrations of birds is not the least wonderful, 

 and must be interesting to the sportsman, as well as to the 

 philosopher. While we are perfectly aware of the facts, 

 we are at a loss to account for the manner in which an ani- 

 mal apparently incapable of a journey even of an ordinary 

 length, continues to make its way over an amazing extent 

 of unfathomable ocean. Perhaps the most extraordinary 

 part of this mysterious circumstance is, that while those 

 birds, whose superior powers of wing seem in some de- 

 gree calculated for these extraordinary flights, are not un- 

 frequently observed in their passage, there are others, that 

 appear altogether incapable of flying five miles, which 

 nevertheless make their way over an extent of ocean, per- 

 haps of five hundred miles! 



That sea fowl, adapted either for flying or swimming, 

 and whose food is always near, should take long journies, 

 seems reasonable enough, from their evident powers to 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



225 



accomplish such undertakings; further, it is not alto- 

 gether so wonderful that swallows should be able to 

 reach distant countries, because they not only fly 

 with amazing speed, but are able to continue a great 

 length of time on the wing; but the case is very diflerent 

 with a variety of other migratory birds, which are ill-cal- 

 culated for long flights, whicli are never seen on their 

 journey, but which, however, reach their places of <3es- 

 tination. 



The swallow tribe visits us in spring, and, with their 

 progeny, quit the country on the approach of winter, 

 when their food is no longer to be found. That they tra- 

 verse the ocean is an incontestible fact, as many naviga- 

 tors have been eye witnesses of their flights, and whose 

 ships have sometimes afforded them resting places on 

 their toilsome journey. Yet, there are not wanting wri- 

 ters, who assert that swallows do not quit this country; 

 but that they lie concealed, and in a torpid state, during 

 winter, under water; that the martins hide themselves 

 during the same period in crevices of rocks, and other 

 lurking places above ground; that the sand martins re- 

 main in the holes in which they formed their nests; and 

 that the swifts continue all winter in their holes in churches 

 and buildings. It is very probable that some of the later 

 hatches, not able to undertake the long journey, may 

 have been found in crevices and holes rather later than 

 the general migration, but that they must shortly perish 

 is beyond a doubt: while nothing can be more ridiculous 

 than to suppose the chimney swallow buries itself beneath 

 the flood, where it continues for six or seven months! 

 Such opinions, ushered into the world tlirough the me- 

 dium of the press, induced the late celebrated Mr. John 

 Hunter to examine the subject anatomically; and on dis- 

 secting several swallows, he observed in them nothing 

 differing from other birds in the organs of respiration; and 

 concluded, without the least hesitation, that nothing could 

 be more absurd than to suppose they could remain for a 

 long time under water. 



However, from the very formation and habits of the 

 swallow tribe, it requires little or no stretch of credulity 

 to believe them capable of crossing the sea from one coun- 

 try to another. The woodcock also, it must be admitted, 

 crosses the ocean: this bird certainly does not appear so 

 admirably calculated for a long flight as the swallow, yet 

 it possesses a considerable extent of wing; and though ap- 

 parently so sluggish when flushed by the sportsman, little 

 doubt can be entertained that it is sufficiently active and 

 strong in flight to transport itself to very considerable dis- 

 tances. The woodcock does not see well in the broad 

 glare of daylight, and at this period reluctantly takes 

 wing; but every sportsman must be very well aware how 

 LlI 



much more active this bird rises in the dusk of the even- 

 ing. They cross the sea in the night, as the circumstance 

 of their frequently striking against light-houses sufficiently 

 testifies; and in stormy weather, it is very well known, 

 numbers of them perish in tlie adventurous journey. 



The quail is also a bird of passage, though it is not 

 easy to imagine how a bird so ill calculated for extensive 

 locomotion is able to effect those long journies which ap- 

 pear indispensable to its habits. Quails are not gene- 

 ral in England; but they visit some parts of it in 

 the month of April, and leave it in September; and 

 are supposed to winter in Africa. These birds, like the 

 woodcock, prefer travelling in the night, and arrive at 

 Alexandria in immense numbers: such prodigious quanti- 

 ties have also appeared on the western coast of the king- 

 dom of Naples, that a hundred thousand have been caught 

 in one day. In some parts of the south of Russia, thej^ 

 abound so greatly at the time of their migration, that they 

 are caught by thousands and sent in casks to Moscow and 

 St. Petersburgh. We are told, that quails assemble at 

 the approach of autumn, to cross the Black Sea over to the 

 southern coast: the order of this emigration is invariable: 

 towards the end of August, the quails, in a body, choose 

 one of those fine days, when the wind, blowing from the 

 north at sunset, promises them a fine night. They take 

 their departure about seven in the evening, and finish a. 

 journey of fifty leagues by break of day — a wonderful dis- 

 tance for a short winged bird, which is generally fat too, 

 and sluggish of flight! Pliny says, quails ballast them- 

 selves in their sea voyages by carrying stones in their 

 feet, or sand in their craw! If such an absurdity were 

 swallowed by the ancient Romans, few will be found 

 weak enough to believe it at the present day. 



Now, we may certainly very readily admit the migra- 

 tion to other countries of the swallow, the woodcock, and 

 the quail, from the incontestible authority which has been 

 already recited; while the passage of various other birds, 

 possessed of great power of wing, is equally placed bej^ond 

 a doubt; but, how are we to accountfor the very extensive 

 excursions of those birds, which appear by no means cal- 

 culated for such undertakings, but whose invariable peri- 

 odical visits, nevertheless, confirm the fact, though per- 

 haps the means or the mode by which it is accomplished 

 will remain for ever perhaps buried beneath impenetrable 

 obscurity: for instance, how are we to suppose the corn 

 crake, which flies with the utmost difficulty even for a 

 few hundred }-ards, is able to cross an extent of ocean, 

 which, upon the lowest estimate, must be one hundred 

 times farther than the utmost efforts of its wing can carry 

 it in this country? 



Scarcity of food, and the want of a convenient situation 




326 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



lor the breeding and rearing their young, are the predo- 

 minant causes of the migration of birds. The periods 

 for these excursions are observed with the most astonish- 

 ing order and punctuality; which has been illustrated as 

 well as immortalized by Pope, in the following beautiful 

 lines: — 



Who taught the nations of the field and flood 

 To shun their poison and to choose their food .' 

 Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand, 

 Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand ! 

 Who bid the stork, Columbus-like, explore 

 Heav'ns not his own, and worlds unknown before ! 

 Who calls the council, states the certain day, 

 Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way ? 

 See then the acting and comparing powers — 

 One in their nature, which are two in ours ; 

 And reason raise o'er instinct as you can, 

 In this 'tis God directs, in that 'tis man. 



The secrecy of the departure of birds, as well as the 

 suddenness of their re-appearance, have involved the sub- 

 ject of migration in great obscurity. Accustomed to mea- 

 sure distances by the speed of those animals with which 

 we are well acquainted, we are apt to overlook the supe- 

 rior velocity with which birds are carried forward in the 

 air, and the ease with which the generality of them con- 

 tinue their exertions for a much longer time than the 

 strongest quadrupeds are able to effect. Suppose a bird 

 to fly half a mile a minute* for twenty-four hours, in that 

 .space of time it will have gone over an extent of seven 

 hundred miles, which is sufficient to account for almost 

 the longest migration; and, if aided with favourable cur- 

 rents of air, which, when in their highest flights, from 

 the appearance of the atmosphere, the clouds, direction 

 of the winds, and other causes, they can apply by that 

 instinctive knowledge which regulates their movements, 

 the journey may be still more speedily performed. Hence 

 I can very easily conceive it possible for strong-winged 

 birds, like swallows, to reach vast distances across the 

 ocean, as well as many others, (the cuckoo for instance,) 

 whose powers of flight are very great, and yet inferior to 

 those of the swallow. But, in regard to the corn crake, 

 the case is different; and the only way in which I can 

 think it possible for these birds to cross the sea, is by sup- 

 posing that instinct directs them to the straits and narrow- 

 est parts, which, with the advantage of a strong current 

 of air, they may be able to cross. 



• And birds in general fly much faster. The flight of a crow is at 

 least equal to half a mile a minute, or perhaps much more, what then 

 must be the speed of that variety of the swallow, distinguished by the 

 name of the swift, which I consider as possessing greater speed than 

 »ny other animal in the known world. 



The structure of birds is most wisely and curiously con- 

 trived to assist their aerial motion; in every part of their 

 form they are active and buoyant, moulded for lightness, 

 and shaped for celerity. The bones, according to the ob- 

 servations of the late celebrated anatomist, Mr. John Hunter, 

 are hollow and contain air, which he imagined might be in- 

 tended to assist thcanimal in the act of flying, by increasing 

 its bulk and strength, without adding to its weight. The in- 

 ternal structure of birds is no less wisely adapted. The 

 lungs are placed close to the backbone and ribs; the air, 

 entering into them by a canal from the windpipe, passes 

 through, and is conveyed into a number of membranous 

 cells, which lie upon the sides of the pericardium, and 

 communicate with those of the sternum. In some birds, 

 these cells are continued down the wings, and extend 

 even to the pinions, thigh bones, and other parts of the 

 bodjr, which can be filled and distended with air at the 

 pleasure of the animal. It seems to be evident that this 

 general diffusion of air through the bodies of birds is of 

 infinite use in assisting respiration in the rapidity of their 

 flights. Were it possible for a man to move with the 

 swiftness of a swallow, the actual resistance of the air, as 

 he is not provided with internal reservoirs similar to those 

 of birds, would soon suffocate him. 



The plumage of the bird is admirably adapted to pro- 

 tect it from the inclemency of the atmosphere through 

 which it passes. The quills of its feathers are firm, j^et 

 very light; and by the firmness of them it is enabled to 

 cleave the air with proper force; while, by their lightness, 

 it elevates itself at pleasure. The feathers are placed ge- 

 nerally according to their length and strength; so that in 

 flight the longest and strongest feathers have the greatest 

 share of duty. Nevertheless, the feathers of the bird 

 would perpetually imbibe the moisture of the atmos- 

 phere, and in every impetuous shower would absorb so 

 much wet, as almost, if not wholly, to impede its flight, 

 had not the wise economy of nature obviated this by a 

 most effectual expedient. The animal is furnished with 

 a gland at the extremity of its body, containing a quan- 

 tity of unctuous matter, which can be pressed out with 

 its bill, and with which it lubricates and anoints its fea- 

 thers at pleasure. However, as birds that share, as it 

 were, the habitations of man, and live under cover, 

 require a more slender supply of this fluid, they are not 

 provided with so large a stock as those that rove and re- 

 side in the open elements. On this account, therefore, 

 domestic poultry are soon affected by wet, a circum- 

 stance too well known to need further illustration in this 

 place. 



[London Sportsman's Cabinet. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



237 



THE GOLDEN PHEASANT. 



Of all the species of Pheasants which are met with in 

 our preserves and in our avaries, the Golden Pheasant is 

 the rarest and the most beautiful. The male bird, when 

 in perfect plumage, measures nearly three feet in length, 

 of which the tail alone forms about two-thirds. The fea- 

 thers of the fore part of the head are very long, 

 silky, and of a bright yellow; and considerably over- 

 hang those of the hinder part, which are of a brilliant 

 orange, marked with transverse black rays. These last 

 are elongated and extended backwards over the sides of 

 the neck, and may be raised or depressed at will. A few 

 minute hairs are scattered over the cheeks, which are of 

 a livid complexion. The feathers of the back of the neck 

 are tinged with a mixture of green and gold, and border- 

 ed with black: those of the back and the upper tail-coverts 

 are bright yellow, the latter terminating in a crimson 

 border. Over the base of each wing is a broad patch of 

 deep blue passing almost into violet; the wing-coverts and 

 secondary quill-feathers oifer various shades of chesnut 

 and brown; and the primary quill-feathers are marked 

 with reddish spots upon a brown ground. The tail-fea- 

 thers are variegated with chesnut and black, the colours 

 being disposed in oblique rays upon the lateral quills. 

 Immediately above the base of the tail the feathers are of 

 a beautiful scarlet. The throat is of a dusky brown; and 

 all the rest of the under surface, including the neck, the 

 breast, and the abdomen, is of a bright scarlet. The iris 

 is bright j-ellow, as are also the bill and legs, but with a 

 somewhat lighter tinge: the latter are furnished with mo- 

 derate-sized spurs. 



In the female, as is usual in this tribe of birds, the co- 

 lours are infinitely less splendid than those of the male. 

 The upper parts are of a rusty brown varying in intensity; 

 the under surface is marked with spots of a deep brown 

 on a lighter ground; the throat is nearly white; the wings 

 are transversely barred with black; and the tail, which is 

 considerably shorter than that of the male, is variegated 

 like the wings. 



These magnificent birds are natives of China; and it 

 was warmly maintained by Buffon, in accordance with 

 his theory of the degeneration of animals, that they were 

 merely a variety of the common Pheasant, which had as- 

 sumed a more splendid plumage in consequence of the 

 superior fineness of the climate in which they dwelt. Un- 

 fortunately for this hypothesis the common Pheasant is 

 also widely spread throughout the same region, in which 

 it preserves all the characters by which it is distinguish- 

 ed in Europe, and never produces in its wild state a mixed 

 breed with its supposed variety. No naturalist since 



Buffon has imagined such a transformation possible. In 

 our menageries a mixed breed is sometimes obtained, but 

 with the greatest difficulty, and the product is absolutely 

 incapable of continuing the race. It requires indeed no 

 small degree of care and attention to procure a breed from 

 the Golden Pheasants themselves. Much of the difficulty, 

 as well as much of the tenderness of constitution mani- 

 fested by these birds, is attributed by M. Temminck to 

 the close confinement in which they are usually kept, and 

 to the very precautions which are taken to preserve them 

 from the effects of cold. He advises that they should be 

 gradually habituated, like the more common race, to the 

 large pheasantries in which the latter are preserved, and 

 doubts not, that as they multiplied under such circum- 

 stances, they would become more and more hardy, until 

 at last they would be fully capable of supporting the 

 cold of our northern winters. The experiment, he tells 

 us, has already been made in Germany, where they have 

 been kept at perfect liberty in an open pheasantry, in 

 company with the common species, and suffered no greater 

 inconvenience than the latter from the change of seasons. 

 [Gardens of the Zoological Society. 



ON THE INJURY THE FARMER SUSTAINS 

 FROM GAME. 



It is generally considered that game is highly inju- 

 rious to the farmer; and this idea is thoughtlessly convert- 

 ed into a sweeping accusation: looking entirely on the 

 gloomy side of the question, without once considering 

 that as good is frequently accompanied by evil, so we 

 ought duly to weigh the matter in all its bearings, and by 

 no means pronounce a hasty sentence. Hence as evils are 

 frequently attended with their own correctives, let us care- 

 fully examine before we denounce, lest our thoughtless im- 

 petuosity should precipitate us into irksome and perhaps 

 irremediable error. 



With respect to feathered game, and the pheasant and 

 partridge in particular, it must be allowed that both these 

 birds will feed, and feed greedily too, upon most, if not 

 all kinds of grain, as well as pulse; but they seldom pull 

 down the ears or the stocks for this purpose: it is true, 

 those ears of corn, on the exterior edges, which, from the 

 weather or other causes, hang in a declining posture, and 

 nearly touch the ground, may be deprived of some of 

 their grains bj- these birds, and where the crop is thin and 

 indifferent, the)' will run much amongst it, and thus make 

 worse what is already sufficiently bad; but the injury 

 which a thick full crop sustains from their depredations is 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



scarcely perceptible, nor are they inclined to run amongst 

 it from any other motives than as a place of protection 

 and security: — where the crop, however, happens to be 

 thin, thus enabling them to run with the greatest facility, 

 affording them greater safety, by enabling them, in some 

 degree, to watch the motions of their enemy, they are 

 scarcely ever from amongst it; here, in fact, they may be 

 said to revel in luxury and security, and in such cases 

 alone it is, that standing crops of grain sustain any serious 

 injury from either pheasants or partridges. After the 

 grain is cut, these birds feed regularly in the stubbles, 

 and here they continue to feed while any food is to be 

 met with. When the wheat is sown, (as by this time the 

 stubbles are well cleared of the shed corn,) they will feed 

 upon it, and the pheasants, (the cock in particular,) will 

 not be content with the grains which may be found lying 

 on the surface of the ground, but will scratch to find those 

 which are covered with mould. Tjie partridge does not 

 appear to scratch the earth, though it will pick up the 

 wheat on the surface. These are the most serious depre- 

 dations which these birds commit on the labours of the 

 husbandman; pheasants would seriously injure a newly 

 sown field if suffered to pursue their inclinations unmo- 

 lested; but nothing is more easy than to prevent the mis- 

 chief which might thus ensue — a boy placed in the field 

 with a rattle would be quite sufficient for the purpose. 

 When the fields are covered with snow, or in hard wea- 

 ther, the pheasant will feed upon acorns, and almost any 

 kind of berries which the hedges produce; while the par- 

 tridge seeks the leaves of turnips, and will feed upon what- 

 ever it meets with of a vegetable complexion. On an im- 

 partial review of the case, therefore, it is abundantly evi- 

 dent, that the only injury done to the grain by these 

 birds is at the period of sowing, particularly the wheat 

 sowing; for as the other kinds of grain are not sown until 

 spring, when food for these creatures is every where to 

 be found in abundance, so at this time they are less to be 

 dreaded. 



Thus having stated the baneful qualities or mischievous 

 propensities of the pheasant and the partridge, I cannot 

 in justice pass over their useful habits in silence. I know 

 it is the practice of some ill-tempered surly farmers, to 

 complain loudly of the depredations of the birds I have 

 just mentioned; and while they are venting their spleen 

 in grumbling and complaint, they seem never to think of 

 the great benefit they derive from the very creatures 

 which they denounce as mischievous beyond all compari- 

 son. Now, if we take a fair and candid review of the 

 other side of the question, it will be found that the benefit 

 which is derived from the plieasant and partridge far out- 

 weighs any injury which can be sustained from even their 



worst of depredations. The young of either of these birds 

 is no sooner excluded from the shell than they are led by 

 the parent bird to the nearest ant hill, the roots of trees, 

 or other places where insects are to be met with. In- 

 sects are sought with unwearied industry, as they consti- 

 tute the entire food of the young for some time, and when 

 they afterwards crop the grasses or herbage and begin to 

 eat grain, they seek grubs, caterpillars, flies, and insects 

 of all kinds as the most dainty fare, and which indeed 

 seem indispensable to their existence; thus it frequently 

 happens, that an ignorant farmer, when he sees these 

 birds amongst his corn, flies into a passion, and swears 

 he shall be ruined by them, at the verj^ moment, when, 

 by clearing his crop from the insects which would other- 

 wise destroy it, they are rendering him the most essential 

 service imaginable! It is a well known fact, at least to per- 

 sons who have paid attention to the subject, that in all 

 those districts where game is to be found in abundance, 

 little or no injury is ever sustained by insects. 



In this review of the evils and benefits arising from 

 game, I leave red and black grouse out of the question; 

 for, although they will both feed upon grain, it is only 

 when the snow has driven the former from the mountains, 

 that they have been seen to approach the inclosures, and 

 in fact the same remark will, in a great degree, apply to 

 the latter. But, if we examine the habits and propensi- 

 ties of the hare and the rabbit, perhaps the complaints of 

 the agriculturist will be found entitled to more considera- 

 tion, as far at least as regards the latter of these animals. 

 The hare feeds upon clover, and upon all the milky plants, 

 as well as upon corn, the ears of which she will bite off 

 and eat before it is ripe; nevertheless, the depredations, 

 even where hares are numerous, (at least in summer,) 

 would be almost imperceptible, were it not for the runs 

 which they make through the fields of standing corn, by 

 which mischief cannot fail to ensue. When, however, " 



they are found in something like reasonable numbers, 

 even this is scarcely worth notice. In winter, hares are 

 most to be dreaded; as in severe weather they will not 

 onl}' do considerable mischief amongst turnips and car- 

 rots, but irreparable injury to young trees also; though there 

 are various modes of preventing them from gnawing the 

 bark, and thus the greatest objection to these animals is 

 effectually overturned. Further, if hares, and also phea- 

 sants and partridges, are provided with a little food in 

 hard weather, their greatest injuries can never extend be- 

 yond a mere trifle. However, the case is widely different • 

 with the rabbit, which, upon a well cultivated estate, be- J 

 come, in a very short period, incalculably destructive. 

 The rabbit feeds much in the same manner as the hare, 

 and in this respect, therefore, he may be supposed on a 








AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



229 



par; bat the injury sustained from the rabbit arises much 

 more from its habit of scratching and burrowing in the 

 ground, tlian from the vegetation which it consumes; and 

 as its fecundity is surprising, so its depredations become 

 amazingly multiplied; and it is really astonishing in how 

 short a time these diminutive animals will riddle, as it 

 were, a very considerable extent of ground: nor indeed 

 are they always content with burrows for the purpose of 

 protection, but wherever rabbits are to be met with, num- 

 bers of superficial hollows or holes will be found, which, 

 it might appear, these animals had made merel}' by the 

 way of exercise. On every view of the case, therefore, 

 rabbits should be confined to sand hills and the more bar- 

 ren grounds, where very little mischief can result from 

 their habits, and where immense advantage may be de- 

 rived from their astonishing fecundity. 



Finally, I must observe, that having paid particular at- 

 tention to the subject for some years, I feel a perfect con- 

 viction that much less injury is sustained from game than 

 is generally imagined. I never feel the least objection to 

 any of the tribe except rabbits: pheasants I regard as com- 

 paratively harmless; the good which results from them 

 more than counterbalances the evil; and as to partridges, 

 I should scarcely object to a covey on every acre, so con- 

 vinced am I of the advantages derived from them, to say 

 nothing of the increased animation and beauty which they 

 give to the landscape. — Sporfsnian's Cabinet. 



SNIPE. 



SCO LOP AX GJILLINAGO. 



[Plate XX. J. Doughty's Collection.] 



This bird is well known to our sportsmen; and, if not 

 the same, has a very near resemblance of the common 

 Snipe of Europe. It is usually known by the name of 

 the English Snipe, to distinguish it from the woodcock, 

 and from several others of the same genus. It arrives in 

 Pennsylvania about the 10th of March, and remains in the 

 low grounds for several weeks; the greater part then move 

 off to the north, and to the higher inland districts to breed. 

 A few are occasionally found, and consequently breed in 

 our low marshes during the summer. When they first 

 arrive, they are usually lean; but when in good order are 

 accounted excellent eating. They are, perhaps, the most 

 difficult to shoot of all our birds, as they fly in sudden 

 zig-zag lines, and very rapidly. Great numbers of these 

 birds winter in the rice grounds of the southern states, 

 IvI M m 



where, in the month of February, they appeared to be 

 much tamer than they are usually here, as I frequently 

 observed them running about among the springs and 

 watery thickets. I was told by the inhabitants, that they 

 generally disappeared early in the spring. On the 20th 

 of March I found these birds extremely numerous on the 

 borders of the ponds near Louisville, Kentucky; and also 

 in the neighbourhood of Lexington, in the same state, as 

 late as the 10th of April. I was told by several people, 

 that they are abundant in the Illinois country, up as far as 

 Lake Michigan. They are but seldom seen in Pennsyl- 

 vania during the summer, but are occasionally met with 

 in considerable numbers on their return in autumn, along 

 the whole eastern side of the Alleghany, from the sea to 

 the mountains. They have the same soaring irregular 

 flight in the air in gloomy weather as the Snipe of Europe; 

 the same bleating note, and occasional rapid descent; 

 spring from the marshes with the like feeble squeak; and 

 in every respect resemble the common Snipe of Britain, 

 except in being about an inch less; and in having sixteen 

 feathers in the tail instead of fourteen, the number said by 

 Bewick to be in that of Europe. From these circum- 

 stances, we must either conclude this to be a different 

 species, or partially changed by difference of climate; the 

 former appears to me the more probable opinion of the 

 two. 



These birds abound in the meadows, and low grounds, 

 along our large rivers, particularly those that border the 

 Schuylkill and Delaware, from the 10th of March to the 

 middle of April, and sometimes later, and are eagerly 

 sought after by many of our gunners. The nature of the 

 grounds, however, which these birds frequent, the cold- 

 ness of the season, and peculiar shyness and agility of the 

 game, render this amusement attractive only to the most 

 dexterous, active, and eager of our sportsmen. 



The Snipe is eleven inches long, and seventeen inches 

 in extent; the bill is more than two inches and a half long, 

 fluted lengthwise, of a brown colour, and black towards 

 the tip, where it is very smooth while the bird is alive, 

 but soon after it is killed becomes dimpled like the end 

 of a thimble; crown black, divided by an irregular line of 

 pale brown; another broader one of the same tint passes 

 over each eye; from the bill to the eye there is a narrow 

 dusky line; neck, and upper part of the breast, pale brown, 

 variegated with touches of white and dusky; chin, pale; 

 back and scapulars deepvelvetty black, the latter elegant- 

 ly marbled with waving lines of ferruginous, and broadly 

 edged exteriorly with white; wings plain dusky, all the 

 feathers, as well as those of the coverts, tipt with white; 

 shoulder of the wing deep dusky brown, exterior quill 

 edged with white; tail-coverts long, reaching within three- 




230 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



quarters of an inch of the tip, and of a pale rust colour 

 spotted with black; tail rounded, deep black, ending in a 

 bar of bright ferruginous, crossed with a narrow waving 

 line of black, and tipt with whitish; belly pure white; 

 sides barred with dusky; legs and feet a very pale ashy 

 green; sometimes the whole thighs, and sides of the vent, 

 arc barred with dusky and white, as in the figure in the 

 plate. 



The female differs in being more obscure in her colours; 

 the white on the back being less pure, and the black not 

 so deep. Wilson. 



SCENERY OF THE WEST. 



The following passages are from Flint's tale of "Fran- 

 cis Berrian," which, though nominally a work of fiction, 

 contains many fine delineations of natural scenery, bj' one 

 who was fully competent to the task. The description of 

 the drove of wild horses, and the notice of the manners 

 of several birds in the beautiful sketch of the Commanches 

 valley, will not, it is thought, be apart from the objects 

 of this work. 



" We closed our arrangements at Natchitoches, the last 

 village in Louisiana, towards the Spanish frontier. I had 

 occasion to experiment the truth of the remark, that in 

 travelling towards the frontier, the decreasing scale of 

 civilization and improvement exhibits an accurate illustra- 

 tion of inverted history. Improvements decrease in the 

 order of distance, as they have increased in the order of 

 time. We travelled down six centuries in as many days. 

 First, we lost sight of handsome and commodious houses, 

 residences of builders, who often saw good models. We 

 gradually lost siglit of the mansions of the opulent cotton- 

 planters, who are noted for their hospitality. We lost 

 sight of men dressed in articles of imported fabric. Then 

 we traversed the belt oi vuchers and shepherds, with their 

 blanket-capotes and their comfortable, but rustic log esta- 

 blishments. Then we traversed the regions of the half 

 savage white inhabitants, the intermediate race between 

 savage and civilized man. On the Kiamesia we passed 

 the American garrison, and saw the cheering sight of tlie 

 spirit-stirring stars and stripes, waving above the rude 

 fortressandthe comfortable quarters, three hundred leagues 

 from the compact population of the country. We joined 

 to admire the genius of a country yet so young, and which 

 has thus early learned to stretch her maternal arms to 

 these remote deserts, in token of efficient protection 

 to the frontier people from the terrors of the ruthless 

 savages. 



" It was not far from this garrison that my eye dilated, 

 and my heart expanded, as we opened upon one of those 

 boundless grassy plains that stretch beyond the horizon, 

 and almost beyond the imagination. Such a view presents 

 to me the image of infinitude and eternity still more strong- 

 ly, than a distant view of the ocean. We entered with 

 the rising sun. One part of the disk of that glorious orb 

 seemed to touch the verdure, and the other the sky. Here 

 we met a company of Spanish muleteers descending with 

 a drove of horses and mules to Louisiana. They were a 

 new and striking variety of the species. They inhabit an 

 arid soil, a dry climate, elevated table land, a plain, which 

 is ventilated in its southern extremity by the unchange- 

 able gales of the tropical sea, and on the north by breezes 

 brought down from snow-capped mountains. They sub- 

 sist on flesli and milk, and unfortunately of late, from 

 their connexion with our country, they have added whis- 

 key to their beverage. They almost live on horseback. 

 The training and managing of horses and mules, and the 

 noosing of them and of cattle by throwing the noosed 

 rope, at which they acquire an incredible dexterity, con- 

 stitute their employment. They are simple and timid, 

 and seem less capable of combination of thought than the 

 savages. Theirmostdefinitedirectionsofplacesto us were 

 towards the rising or the setting sun; and their most accurate 

 measures of distance were grande distancia, or poca dis- 

 tancia, a great or a little distance. They have a peculiar 

 physiognomj', repulsive at first sight, but on closer inspec- 

 tion amiable. I found them in fact, in the general, an ex- 

 tremely affectionate and amiable people. They are dress- 

 ed in the tanned skins of their cattle and game, and their 

 costume differs considerably in appearance from that of 

 their neighbours, the French and the savages. For boots 

 they wear a kind of leather leggings, which they call 

 " buccarees," with huge silver spurs. They have a sin- 

 gular-shaped wooden saddle, covered with some kind of 

 skins, with a circular and painted elevation of wood in 

 front, and very large wooden stirrups. The hat is of great 

 weight, and tapers in the crown like the apex of a cone. 

 About the horse's neck they carry a great length of coil- 

 ed rope of buffalo's hair, ready for the operation of noosing 

 any animal that shall come in their way. They have also 

 appended to the horse's neck a gourd or bottle, ready to 

 drop into the stream or branch, through the channel of 

 which they may pass, and dip up their water for drink- 

 ing. When the carabine and spear are added to these 

 equipments, and laid across the saddle at right angles to 

 the horse's path, the rider, the horse, and the furnishing, 

 taken together, afford a most uncouth and ludicrous 

 figure. 



" On these level plains some of my dreams of the plea- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



sures of wandering were realized. We were all in the 

 morning of life, full of health and spirits, on horseback, 

 and breathing a most salubrious air, with a boundless hori- 

 zon open before us; and shaping our future fortune and 

 success in the elastic mould of youthful hope and imagina- 

 tion, we could hardly be other than happy. Sometimes 

 we saw, scouring away from our path, horses, asses, mules, 

 buffaloes, and wolves, in countless multitudes, and we 

 took, almost with too much ease to give pleasure in the 

 chase, whatever we needed for luxurious subsistence. The 

 passage of creeks and brooks across the prairies is mark- 

 ed, to the utmost extent of vision, by a fringe of wood and 

 countless flowering shrubs. Sometimes we ascended an 

 elevation of some height, swelling gently from the plain. 

 Here the eye traces, as on an immense map, the formation 

 and gradual enlargement of these rivulets, and sees them 

 curving their meandering lines to a point of union with 

 another of the same kind. The broadened fringe of wood 

 indicates the enlargement of the stream, and the eye takes 

 in at one glance the gradual formation of rivers. The 

 night brought us up on the edge of one of these streams. 

 Our beasts are turned loose to stretch themselves on the 

 short and tender grass, to feed and repose. The riders 

 collect round a fire in the centre. Supper is prepared 

 with bread, coffee, and the tenderest parts of the buffalo, 

 venison, and other game. The appetite, sharpened by ex- 

 ercise on horseback, and by the salubrious air, is devour- 

 ing. The story circulates. Past adventures are recount- 

 ed, and if they receive something of the colouring of ro- 

 mance, it may be traced to feelings that grow out of the 

 occasion. The projects and the mode of journeying on 

 the morrow are discussed and settled. The fire flickers 

 in the midst. The wild horses neigh, and the prairie 

 xvolveshowl, in the distance. Except the weather threatens 

 storm, the tents are not pitched. The temperature of the 

 night air is both salutary and delightful. The blankets 

 are spread upon the tender grass, and under a canopy of 

 the softest blue, decked with all the visible lights of the 

 sky. The party sink to a repose, which the exercise of 

 the preceding day renders as unbroken and dreamless, as 

 that of a grave. I awoke more than once unconscious that 

 a moment had elapsed, between the time of my lying 

 down and my rising. 



"The day before we came in view of the Rocky Moun- 

 tains, I saw in the greatest perfection that impressive, and, 

 to me, almost sublime spectacle, an immense drove of 

 wild horses, for a long time hovering round our path 

 across the prairie. I had often seen great numbers of them 

 before, mixed with other animals, apparently quiet, and 

 grazing like the rest. Here there were thousands un- 

 mixed, unemployed; their motions, if such a comparison 



might be allowed, as darting and as wild as those of hum- 

 ming-birds on the flowers. The tremendous snorts with 

 which the front columns of the phalanx made known 

 their approach to us, seemed to be their wild and ener- 

 getic way of expressing their pity and disdain for the ser- 

 vile lot of our horses, of which they appeared to be taking 

 a survey. They were of all colours, mixed, spotted, and 

 diversified with every hue, from the brightest white to 

 clear and shining black; and of every form and structure, 

 from the long and slender racer, to those of firmer limbs 

 and heavier mould; and of all ages, from the curvetting 

 colt to the range of patriarchal steeds, drawn up in aline, 

 and holding their high heads for a survey of us, in the 

 rear. Sometimes they curved their necks, and made no 

 more progress than just enough to keep pace with our ad- 

 vance. Then there was a kind of slow and walking 

 minuet, in which they performed various evolutions with 

 the precision of the figures of a country dance. Then a 

 rapid movement shifted the front to the rear. But still, 

 in all their evolutions and movements, like the flight of 

 sea-fowl, their lines were regular, and free from all indi- 

 cations of confusion. At times a spontaneous and sudden 

 movement towards us, almost inspired the apprehension 

 of an united attack upon us. After a moment's advance, 

 a snort and a rapid retrograde movement seemed to testify 

 their proud estimate of their wild independence. The in- 

 finite variety of their rapid movements, their tamperings, 

 and mancEuvres, were of such a wild and almost terrific 

 character, that it required but a moderate stretch of fancy 

 to suppose them the genii of these grassy plains. At one 

 period they were formed for an immense depth in front 

 of us. A wheel, executed almost with the rapidity of 

 thought, presented them hovering on our flanks. Then, 

 again, the cloud of dust that enveloped their movements, 

 cleared away, and presented them in our rear. They evi- 

 dently operated as a great annoyance to the horses and 

 mules of our cavalcade. The frighted movements, the in- 

 creased indications of fatigue, sufficiently evidenced, with 

 their frequent neighings, what unpleasant neighbours the_v 

 considered their wild compatriots to be. So much did our 

 horses appear to suffer from fatigue and terror in conse- 

 quence of their vicinity, that we were thinking of some 

 way in which to drive them off; when on a sudden a pa- 

 tient and laborious donkey of the establishment, who ap- 

 peared to have regarded all their movements with philo- 

 sophic indifference, pricked up his long ears, and gave a 

 loudandmostsonorousbray from hisvocal shells. Instantly 

 this prodigious multitude, and there were thousands of 

 them, took what the Spanish call the "stompado." With 

 a trampling like the noise of thunder, or still more like 

 that of an earthquake, a noise that was absolutely appal- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ling, they took to their heels, and were all in a few mo- 

 ments invisible in the verdant depths of the plains, and we 

 saw them no more. 



" It was in the first opening of spring, after a slow and 

 easy journey of five weeks from Natchitoches, that we 

 arrived at last in view of that immense chain of moun- 

 tains, commonly denominated "the Rocky Mountains," 

 at the point where the Arkansas finds its way from among 

 them to the plain. No time will erase from my mind the 

 impressions of awe and grandeur, excited by the distant 

 view and the gradual approach to this sublime chain of moun- 

 tains. We had been prepared for this impression by an 

 approach of two hundred leagues, through a level plain of 

 short and soft grass, seldom able to discover in our whole 

 horizon, a tree, a shrub, an eminence, or any other object 

 hut herds of animals, to diversify the scene." 



'<I arose early in the morning to make the circuit of 

 this lovely vale. At the extremity of the village, the 

 torrent, whose sources were in the mountains, poured 

 down, from a prodigious elevation, a white and perpen- 

 dicular cascade, which seemed a sheet suspended in the 

 air. It falls into a circular basin, paved with blue lime- 

 stone of some rods in circuit. The dash near at hand has 

 a startling effect upon the ear. But at a little distance, it 

 is just the murmur to inspire repose, and it spreads a deli- 

 cious coolness all around the place. From the basin the 

 stream seems to partake of the repose of the valley; for it 

 broadens into a transparent and quiet water, whose banks 

 are fringed with pawpaw, persimon, laurel, and catalpa 

 shrubs and trees, interlaced with vines, under which the 

 green carpet is rendered gay with flowers of every scent 

 and hue. The soil is black, tender and exuberantly fer- 

 tile. The coolness of the vale and the shade, together 

 with the irrigation of the stream, cover the whole valley 

 with a vivid verdure. The beautiful red-bird with its 

 crimson-tufted crest, and the nightingale sparrow, pouring 

 from a body scarcely larger than an acorn, a continued 

 stream of sound, a prolonged, plaintive, and sweetly mo- 

 dulated harmony, that might be heard at the distance of 

 half a mile, had commenced their morning voluntary. 

 The mocking-bird, the buffoon of songsters, was parody- 

 ing the songs of all the rest. Its short and jerking notes, 

 at times, imitated bursts of laughter. Sometimes, laying 

 aside its habitual levity, it shows, that it knows the notes 

 of seriousness, and trills a sweetly melancholy strain. 

 Above the summits of these frowning mountains, that 

 mortal foot had never yet trodden, soared the mountain 

 eagle, drinking the sunbeam in the pride of his native in- 

 dependence. Other birds of prey, apparently poised on 

 their wings, swam slowly round in easy curves, and seem- 



ed to look with delight upon the green spot embosomed 

 n the mountains. They sailed back and forwards, as 

 though they could not tire of the view. The sun, which 

 had burnished all the tops of the mountains with gold, and 

 here and there glistened on banks of snow, would not 

 shine into the valley, until he had almost gained his me- 

 ridian height. The natives, fleet as the deer when on ex- 

 peditions abroad, and at home lazy and yawning, were 

 just issuing from their cabins, and stretching their limbs 

 supinely in the cool of the morning. The smoke of their 

 cabin fires had begun to undulate and whiten in horizon- 

 tal pillars athwart the valley. The distant roar of the cas- 

 cade, like the gong in Chinese music, seemed to mingle 

 and harmonize all other sounds in the valley. It was a 

 charming assemblage of strong contrasts, rocky and inac- 

 cessible mountains, the deep and incessant roar of the 

 stream, a valley that seemed to sleep bet%veen these im- 

 pregnable ramparts of nature, a little region of landscape 

 surrounded by black and ragged cliffs, on every side dot- 

 ted thick with brilliant and beautiful vegetation, and fra- 

 grant with hundreds of acacias and catalpas in full flower, 

 a spot sequestered like a lonely isle in the midst of the 

 ocean; in the midst of it a busy, simple, and undescribed 

 people, whose forefathers had been born and had died here 

 for uncounted generations: a people, who could record 

 wars, loves, and all the changes of fortune, if they had 

 had their historian. Such was the valley of the Comman- 

 ches." 



DEER HUNTING IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 



Our Deer hunting commences on the 1st of August, 

 and usually terminates about the 1st of November, when 

 we commence fox hunting. Our party, generally, con- 

 sists of that veteran and accomplished sportsman. Major 



T , Captain B. F. T , Messrs. J. R , J. W , 



and Colonel H ; and our pack, of ten couple of first 



rale dogs. Having but few Deer on our side of the river, 

 we usually hunt eight or ten miles on the other side. 

 Various causes delayed our sport this season until the 12th 

 of September, on which day our party rendezvoused at 

 Piatt's Springs. In the afternoon of the same day, three 

 couple of stanch dogs were thrown into cover at Muller's 

 Drive. The sonorous tongue of Kate, and the deep 

 challenge of old Clinker, soon announced the presence of 

 game. 



After an intricate drag of more than a mile, a burst, 

 and then the clear, loud, and protracted halloo, from our 

 driver, indicated that the game had been roused, and was 

 taking the proper direction. In breaking from cover, the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



game, (a doe and fawn,) separated. The former attempt- 

 ed to pass the stand occupied by Mr. R., and presented 

 herself within thirty yards of him. He fired one barrel, 

 and, (wonderful to relate,) missed her. Making thence 

 to the stand filled by Colonel H., she rushed out at too 

 great a distance, (at least one hundred yards,) to render 

 his shot certain; but near enough to draw one barrel from 

 him also. The fawn, followed by a part of the pack, pass- 

 ed out of the drive, at a point unoccupied; but too near 

 our veteran. Major T., to have any chance of escape. 

 Hastily mounting old Billy, into whose sides he dashed 

 the rowels, he headed the pack and killed the fawn. 



As we occupied an untenanted house, and had brought 

 our own supplies, the fawn afforded a very seasonable 

 addition to our larder; and in the hands of our scientific 

 cook, Paul, was served up in magnificent style. The next 

 morning, at sunrise, having been joined by Colonel A. 

 and Mr. M., the whole pack were uncoupled, and thrown 

 off at the Big Marsh. Deep in the swamp, old Clinker 

 again challenges, and the whole pack rush to his well 

 known tongue; a short drag, and then, what a tremendous 

 burst! A large buck was viewed at Hart's stand; but, 

 smelling the stander, he dashed into the swamp, where, 

 making one or two circles, he broke across the creek, 

 eluding all the party. 



In about an hour our boys returned with all the dogs, 

 having succeeded in whipping them off. They were then 

 thrown into Red Bank, where two or three starts were 

 made; but no shootinguntilwe reached Rocky Ford, where 

 a fine doe was killed by Colonel H. Returning to din- 

 ner, each faux pas was dwelt upon; and the unfortunate 

 subjects that committed them were reprimanded by our 

 veteran in the true spirit of a practised sportsman. The 

 merits of each dog was commented upon over our venison 

 pastry, with its concomitants; which you may more easily 

 imaginethanldescribe. After "coolingoff," weagainturn- 

 ed out, up the Big Creek. Five Deer were soon roused, 

 one of which was shot by Mr. B., and another by Mr. M.; 

 but the principal part of the dogs following the remaining 

 three to the hills, we pursued until dusk, but were unable 

 to shoot again. The next morning, having as much veni- 

 son as we could dispose of amongst our friends, we re- 

 turned home. 



Our last hunt occurred about three weeks since. Having 

 been invited to join some friends, in the neighbourhood 

 of Lexington court-house, to hunt "a tremendous buck," 

 who had frequently eluded their pursuit, we all assem- 

 bled at the house of Mr. D. Early the next morning the 

 party divided, to flank Twelve Mile Creek, leaving the 

 big buck for the afternoon. So soon as the light blast of 

 our horn was answered by the opposite party, our dogs 

 N N n 



were uncoupled and thrown into cover — Blue Cap chal- 

 lenged. Two bucks speedily broke cover, for the hills. 

 Being hard pressed by the dogs, they doubled for the mill 

 pond. Soon after they separated, the whole pack adher- 

 ing to the larger, (a four snagged buck,) who was headed 

 and killed by Colonel H. After a short delay, the dogs 

 were thrown off again in the swamp. A doe soon roused, 

 and, in breaking cover, was killed by Mr. D., our worthy 

 host. The party now formed a junction, and found that 

 Mr. B. F. T. and Mr. W. had killed another fine buck, 

 which they had caught sneaking from cover. Returning 

 to Mr. D.'s, we were, after dinner, prevailed on, ("no- 

 thing loth,") to make one more drive for the "big one." 

 Mr. F., (an amateur,) volunteered to drive; and, aided 

 by Mr. D. and the boys, the dogs were turned into cover, 

 close to our rendezvous. At it they went, in gallant 

 style; Clinker, Blue Cap, Jasper, Ebony, and Boxer, soon 

 challenged — a short drag was the prelude of a tremen- 

 dous crash. The old fellow attempted his old tricks of 

 doubling like a fox, and effectually deceived Mr. F., who 

 raised the view halloo; but, being cautioned by Mr. D. to 

 stand fast, we all remained at our posts, whilst the whole 

 pack settled down upon him, close at his haunches. In a 

 short time Mr. F. discovered his mistake, by viewing the 

 " old Monarch," accompanied by another buck. He fired 

 from a restive horse — hit the old ene with a single shot 

 in the thigh. The Deer then separated. The principal 

 part of the pack, after the wounded one, making directly 

 to Mr. D., who shot at, but missed him. He then 

 turned to Mr. R.'s stand, who, with one barrel, sealed his 

 fate. 



Boxer, Buncomb, Ebony, and Sting, pursued the other 

 buck; and, in less than an hour and a half, ran into him 

 at a mill pond, where he was taken from them by the 

 miller, having never been fired at. Thus closed this 

 brilliant hunt, killing every Deer v nharboxired ; and the 

 highest encomiums were elicited from "our veteran," 

 who was almost tempted to challenge, to hunt his party 

 and their dogs against the universe. 



[jlmerican Turf Register. 



THE MELON. 



The Melon is the richest and most highly flavoured 

 of all the fleshy fruits. It is often said to be a native of 

 the central parts of Asia, and to have been first brought 

 into Europe from Persia; but the date of its first culture 

 is so remote, that there is no certain knowledge on the 

 subject. Pliny and Columella describe the fondness of 




231 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



the Emperor Tiberius for Melons, and detail the contri- 

 vances by which they were procured for him at all seasons. 

 Stoves appear to have been used in this process; so that 

 forcing-houses were not unknown to the Romans. The 

 Melon has certainly been generally cultivated in England 

 since about the middle of the sixteenth century; how much 

 earlier is not known. It is highly probable that those 

 ecclesiastics who paid such attention to the other fruits 

 grown in Italy and France, would not neglect one so de- 

 licious as the Melon; and it is distinctly said by a writer 

 on British Topography, Gough, that the cultivation of the 

 Melon in England preceded the wars of York and Lan- 

 caster, but that it was destroyed in the times of civil 

 trouble that succeeded. It is probable, however, that the 

 Melon was confounded with the pumpkin by the earlier 

 writers whom Gough consulted. While in France, and 

 in England, Melons are grown as an article of luxury, in 

 some parts of the east they are used as a chief necessary 

 of life. Niebuhr, the celebrated traveller, says, "Of 

 pumpkins and Melons, several sorts grow naturally in the 

 woods, and serve for feeding camels; but the proper 

 Melons are planted in the fields, where a great variety 

 of them is to be found, and in such abundance, that the 

 Arabians of all ranks use them, for some part of the year, 

 as their principal article of food. They afford a very 

 agreeable liquor. When its fruit is nearly ripe, a hole is 

 pierced into the pulp; this hole is then stopped with wax, 

 and the Melon left upon the stalk. Within a few days the 

 pulp is^, in consequence of this process, converted into a 

 delicious liquor." Mr. South'ey has alluded to this cir- 

 cumstance in the following 



" Whither is gone the boy 1 

 He had pierced the Melon's pulp, 

 And clothed with wa.x the wound ; 

 And lie had duly gone at morn 

 And watched its ripening rind ; 

 And now all joyfully he brings 

 The treasure, now matured."* 



Although the Melon is a very delicious fruit, it is not 

 one of the most wholesome; more especially in cold cli- 

 mates, where, if eaten in any considerable quantity, it is 

 apt to derange the stomach, unless corrected by warm and 

 stimulating ingredients; and the same remark may be ap- 

 plied to the cucumber. 



Small Melons are, when equally ripe, more highly fla- 

 voured than large ones. In general, however, the fruit 

 is chosen as much for show as for use, and thus the large 

 ones are preferred. Indeed, in almost all the cultivated 



fruits and vegetables, quality is very apt to be sacrificed 

 to appearance; as in the markets the articles are bought 

 by the judgment of the eye, and not by that of the palate. 

 To obtain the large size, a ranker manuring, and higher 

 culture, must be resorted to than are altogether consist- 

 ent with the natural development of the juices of the 

 plant. 



Of the Melon there are many varieties, and the number 

 of them is constantly increasing. The Cantaloupe is one 

 of the best. It obtains its name from a seat belonging to 

 the Pope, not far from Rome, where it was probably first 

 cultivated in Europe, and whence it has spread into most 

 countries. The Cantaloupe is of a middling size, nearly 

 round in form, and remarkably rough and irregular in the 

 surface. The colours, both of the surface and the flesh, 

 vary — the former from orange mottled with green, to 

 green mottled with black; and the latter from white, or 

 nearly so, to orange tinged with rose colour. The flesh 

 of some varieties is greenish, but these are inferior to the 

 others. When Melons of this sort are equally ripened, it 

 may be considered as a general rule, that those which are 

 darkest on the outside, most richly tinted in the flesh, 

 and of a moderate size, have the most high and musky 

 flavour. 



There is also a small African or Egyptian Melon, the 

 flesh of which is green, of particular excellence. Frederick 

 the Great was passionately fond of these Melons; and 

 Zimmerman, who attended him in his last illness, finding 

 him very ill from indigestion, discovered that he ate three 

 or four of them daily for breakfast. On remonstrating with 

 the king, the only answer that the physician could get was, 

 that the king would send him some of the fruit to taste the 

 next day — as if its excellence would be a sufiicient apo- 

 logy for the habitual indiscretion.* 



The Romana is also a fine Melon; and it ripens earlier 

 than the Cantaloupe. The surface is often netted. It is 

 of an oval shape, highly flavoured, and when good, very 

 heavy and solid. 



The Salonica, which has been but recently introduced 

 into this country, is a beautiful Melon. It is spherical, 

 smooth, and of a fine golden colour. The flesh is white, 

 very sweet, and in consistency resembling the Water- 

 Melon. The Salonica preserves its qualities, though it is 

 very large; and with good culture specimens may be had 

 weighing seven or eight pounds. 



The small Portugal is a very early and productive 

 Melon, but not remarkable for flavour. The Rock-Melons 

 are thickly set with knobs; they are of various colours, 

 and some of them of very fine flavour. The oblong ribbed 



ThaUba, book 



Zimmerman's ConversatK 



ith the King of Pr 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



is marked into segments from the root to the crown; it is 

 very productive; and the flavour is so high, that it is some- 

 times called, by waj^ of eminence, the Musk-Melon. 



The Melons of Persia have long borne a high charac- 

 ter. "Persia," says Malte Brun, writing after Chardin, 

 Olivier, and Langles, " is consoled for the occasional fail- 

 ure of her grain crop, by the fineness of her fruits. There 

 are twenty sorts of Melons — the finest in Khorassan. In 

 Persia, this fruit is extremely succulent, and contributes 

 greatly to health: they are sometimes so large that three 

 or four are a full load for a man." 



The Persian Melons are extremely rich and sweet; and 

 instead of the thick rind of the common Melons, they have 

 a very thin and delicate skin, which makes a fruit of the 

 same apparent size contain nearly twice as m.uch edible 

 matter. In addition to this, the Melons are beautiful, and 

 they bear abundantly; and in the warm climate of Persia, 

 the only attention which they ask from the cultivator, is 

 to be regularly watered. — Lib. Ent. Know. • 



ANECDOTE OF A NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. 



From a child I had "a passion" for the very name of 

 a Newfoundland Dog. Their beauty and their strength, 

 fidelity and sagacity, had been deeply impressed upon my 

 imagination by many a story and surprising anecdote; and 

 my determination to have one so?)ie day was kept alive 

 by occasional glimpses of these beautiful animals in the 

 streets of the city. Many were the obstacles to prevent 

 my wish; but at length, in spite of dog laws and other 

 difficulties, I could call a Newfoundland Dog my own. 

 Poor fellow! that thy noble spirit should pine, and thy 

 fine form be " cabined, cribbed, confined," in a little yard 

 of eight by ten! But no matter — a smaller limit is enclo- 

 sure ample for thee now! Peace to thy unmarked grave. 



My time was too much occupied with business to devote 

 to the (doubtful) pleasure of properly educating my canine 

 jewel, and he therefore improved but slowly in my keep- 

 ing. He was a substantial six months' old pup when I got 

 him, had been brought up in the country, and answered 

 to a name that did not ansvper me; so I christened him 

 anew, with something more poetical, though, I confess, 

 that for a long time, (except when the sound of the new 

 name was accompanied by the display of a piece of meat,) 

 his ear was so unmusical as to prefer his old and homely 

 name. I taught him to fetch and carry, and to seek what- 

 ever was intentionally hid for him; he showed some genius 

 for discovery, but I have nothing wonderful to relate about 

 him on this score. As soon as the mild weather would 



allow us to call it spring, I took him with me to the Schuyl- 

 kill, anxious for a display of his aquatic exercises. I threw 

 in chips, but though he would bring them from the shore, 

 none looked tempting enough to lure him into the water. 

 I suppose his country habitation must have been entirely 

 inland, and this was, I suppose, his first view of, as I had 

 hoped, his other native element. But I was determined, 

 in spite of his antipathy, that he should swim; so, after all 

 manner of persuasion was exhausted, I used coercion, 

 struggled and wrestled, and, solid as he was, turned him 

 into the liquid fairly off the wharf! But such a swimmer! 

 he did not move like a master of the element; no, if it had 

 been flame he could not have struggled more earnestly or 

 awkwardly to escape from it. So piteous a face, and nose 

 directly up, and fore-feet out of water, paddling away for 

 dear life! But at length he worked his passage to the 

 shore, and bounded off, determined to avoid another bath 

 for that day. And, indeed, whenever I afterward attempt- 

 ed it, I had to secure him before we approached the water, 

 and drag and carry him when it came in view. One day, 

 after one of his unwilling immersions, he was frolicking 

 round me at a respectful distance, as I was lying on the 

 bank of the basin at Chesnut street and Schuylkill, when 

 a gentleman approached with a Dog of the same species, 

 threw a chip into the water, which was immediately 

 plunged for by his Dog, who brought it out and returned, 

 swimming round, delighting in the water. The moment 

 my Dog observed him, he left his gambols and approach- 

 ed, regarding the movements of the Dog in the water in- 

 tently, during the time he remained. As soon as he left, 

 he walked round to the side of the basin opposite to me, 

 and deliberately, of his own accord, plunged in and swam 

 round confidently and gracefully, nothing but his head 

 above the water, and his chops resting on it. He had 

 taken one good lesson in swimming by the observation of 

 his fellow, and immediatelj' put it in practice; and he 

 always swam in the same manner afterward. H. 



PRESERVATION OF IRON FROM RUST. 



A mastic or covering for this purpose, proposed by M. 

 Zeni,and sanctioned by the Societe d'Encouragement, is 

 as follows: eighty parts of pounded brick, passed through 

 a silk sieve, are mixed with twenty parts of litharge; the 

 whole is then rubbed up by the muller with linseed oil, so 

 as to form a thick paint, which may be diluted with spirits 

 of turpentine; before it is applied the iron should be well 

 cleaned. 



From an experience of two years, upon locks exposed 




236 



to the air, and watered daily with salt water, after being 

 covered with two coats of this mastic, the good effects of 

 it have been thoroughly proved. 



[^Bull. d'Encour. Jan. 1830. 



THE CABINET 01;" NATURAL HISTORY, 



From ihe Library of Useful Knowledge. 



THE VICES AND DISAGREEABLE OR DAN- 

 GEROUS HABITS OF THE HORSE. 



{Continued frwn page 216.) 



SOUND THE HORN. 



A Hunting Carol. 



C. W. Thomson. 



Sound the horn — sound the horn, 



O merrily dawns the day, 

 The birds awake with the rosy morn, 



To the chase — to the chase away. 

 Hark from the hill, the bugle is swelling. 

 Hark from their kennel, the hounds are yelling. 

 The steeds are neighing aloud from their stall, 

 Awake, arise ere the sunbeams fall. 

 Mount, mount, thro' forest, o'er vale and hill. 

 Follow the sound of the bugle still, 



Follow, follow still. 

 Ere yet from the mountain has gleamed the day. 

 To the chase — to the chase away. 



Sound the horn — sound the horn, 



O gaily the hunters meet. 

 Each on his prancing courser borne. 



For the chase — for the chase they greet ; 

 Come, for the morning is on the mountain, 

 Come, for the deer is at the fountain. 

 The mists are melting away in the air, 

 There's not a moment of day to spare. 

 On — on — the stag must yet be slain. 

 Strike the spur and slacken the rein, 

 Slacken the courser's rein — 

 The notes of the bugle unceasingly play. 

 To the chase — to the chase away. 



Sound the horn — sound the horn, 



O swiftly flies the deer. 

 Torrent and steep alike they scorn, 



For the prize — for the prize is near. 

 See, the strength of the stag is waning, 

 See, the hounds on his track are gaining ; 

 Swiftly he flies thro' valley and wood, 

 By horse, and huntsman, and horn pursued. 

 Speed — speed — ere noon has seen the sun, 

 The prey must be caught — the game be won— 



The noble game be won. 

 Then heed not the river, and spurn the spray. 

 To the chase — ^to the chase away. 



KICKING IN HARNESS. 



A much more serious vice is kicking in harness. From 

 the least annoyance about the rump or quarters, some 

 Horses will kick at the most violent rate, and destroy the 

 bottom of the chaise, and endanger the limbs of the driver. 

 Those that are fidgetty in the stable are most apt to do this. 

 If the reins should perchance get under the tail, the vio- 

 lence of the kicker will be most outrageous; and while 

 the animal presses down his tail so tightly that it is almost 

 impossible to extricate the reins, he continues to plunge 

 until he has demolished every thing behind him. 



This is a vice standing foremost in point of danger, and 

 which no treatment will often conquer. It will be alto- 

 gether in vain to try coercion here. If the shafts are very 

 strong and without flaw, or if they are plated with iron 

 underneath, and a stout kicking strap used, which will 

 barely allow the Horse the proper use of his hind limbs 

 in progression, but not permit him to raise them suffi- 

 ciently for the purpose of kicking, he may be prevented 

 from doing mischief; or if he is harnessed to a heavy 

 cart, and thus confined, his efforts to lash out will be re- 

 strained: but it is a very unpleasant thing frequently to 

 witness these attempts, although ineffectual, to demolish 

 the vehicle; and the shafts or the kicking strap may possi- 

 bly break, and extreme danger may ensue. A Horse 

 that has once begun to kick, whatever may have been the 

 original cause of it, can never be depended on again; and 

 he will be very unwise who ventures behind him. 



UNSTEADINESS WHILST BEING MOUNTED. 



When this merely amounts to eagerness to start, (very un- 

 pleasant, indeed, at times, for many a rider has been 

 thrown from his seat before he was fairly fixed in it,) it 

 may be remedied by an active and good horseman. We 

 have known many instances in which, while the elderly, 

 and inactive, and fearful man, has been making more than 

 one ineffectual attempt to vault into the saddle, the Horse 

 has been dancing about to his annoyance and danger; but 

 the animal had no sooner been transferred to the manage- 

 ment of a younger and more agile rider, than he became 

 perfectly subdued. Severity will here, more decidedly 

 than in any other case, do harm. The rider should be 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



5; he should carelessly and confidently approach the 

 Horse, mount at tlie first effort, and then restrain him for 

 a while patting him, and not suffering him to proceed until 

 he becomes perfectly quiet. These Horses should not 

 be too highly fed, and should daily have sufficient exer- 

 cise. 



When the difficulty of mounting arises not from eager- 

 ness to start, but unwillingness to be ridden, the sooner 

 such Horse is disposed of the better. He may be con- 

 quered by a determined rider, but a skilful and determin- 

 ed horseman alone will manage him; and even he will not 

 succeed without frequent and even dangerous contests 

 that will mar all the pleasure of the ride. 



This sometimes results from playfulness, carried indeed 

 to an unpleasant and dangerous extent; but it is oftener a 

 vice, and is a desperate and frequently successful effort to 

 unhorse the rider. The Horse that has twice decidedly 

 and dangerously reared, should never be trusted again, 

 unless indeed it be the fault of the rider — unless lie has been 

 using a deep curb and sharp bit. Some of the best Horses 

 will contend against these, and then rearing may be im- 

 mediately and permanently cured by using a snaffle bridle 

 alone. 



The horse-breaker's remedy, that of pulling the Horse 

 backward on a soft piece of ground, is worthy of him, and 

 would be practised only by reckless and brutal men. 

 Manj' Horses have been injured in the spine, and others 

 have broken their necks, by being thus suddenly brought 

 over; while even the horse-breaker, who fears no danger, 

 is not always able to extricate himself from the falling 

 Horse. If rearing proceeds from vice, and is unprovoked 

 by the bruising and laceration of the mouth, it fully par- 

 takes of the inveteracy which attends the other divisions 

 of restiveness. 



RITXXING AWAY. 



Some headstrong Horses will occasionally endeavour to 

 bolt with the best rider. Others, with their wonted saga- 

 city, endeavour thus to dislodge the timid or unskilful. 

 Some are hard to hold, or bolt only during the excite- 

 ment of the chase; others will run away, prompted by a 

 vicious propensity alone. There is no cure here. That 

 method which affords any probability of success, is to ride 

 such a Horse with a strong curb and sharp bit; to have 

 him always firmly in hand; and if he will run away, and 

 the place will admit of it, to give him, (sparing neither 

 curb, whip, nor spur,) a great deal more running than he 

 likes. 



Ooo 



VICIOUS TO CLEAN. 



It would scarcely be believed to what an extent this exists 

 in some Horses, that are otherwise perfectly quiet. It is 

 only at great hazard that they can be cleaned at all. The 

 origin of this is probably some maltreatment. There is a 

 great difference in the sensibility of the skin in different 

 Horses. Some seem as if they could scarcely be made to 

 feel the whip; others cannot bear a fly to alight on them 

 without an expression of annoyance. In young Horses 

 the skin is peculiarly delicate. If they have been curried 

 with a broken comb, or hardly rubbed with an uneven 

 brush, the recollection of the torture they have felt makes 

 them impatient, and even vicious, during every succeed- 

 ing operation of the kind. Many grooms, likewise, seem 

 to delight in producing these exhibitions of uneasi- 

 ness and vice; although when they are carried a little too 

 far, and to the hazard of the limbs of the groom, the ani- 

 mals that have been almost tutored into these expressions 

 of irritation, are brutally kicked and punished. 



This, however, is a vice which ma}' be conquered. If 

 the animal be dressed with a lighter hand, and whisped 

 i-ather than brushed, and the places where the skin is most 

 sensitive be avoided as much as thorough cleanliness will 

 allow, the Horse will gradually lose the recollection of 

 former ill-treatment, and become tractable and quiet. 



VICIOUS TO SHOE. 



The correction of this is more peculiarly the business of 

 the smith; j'et the master should diligently concern him- 

 self with it, for it is oftener the consequence of injudicious 

 or bad usage than of natural vice. It may be expected that 

 there will be some difficulty in shoeing a young Horse for 

 the first few times. It is an operation which gives him a 

 little uneasiness. The man to whom he is most accustom- 

 ed should go with him to the forge; and if another and 

 steady Horse were shod before him, he might he induced 

 more readily to submit. We cannot deny, that after the 

 habit of resisting this necessary operation is formed, force 

 may sometimes be necessary to reduce our rebellious ser- 

 vant to obedience; but we affirm, that the majority of 

 Horses vicious to shoe are rendered so by harsh usage, 

 and by the pain of correction being added to the uneasi- 

 ness of shoeing. It should be a rule in every forge that 

 no smith should be permitted to strike a Horse, much less 

 to twitch or to gag him, without the master-farrier's order; 

 and that a 3'oung Horse should never be twitched or 

 struck. There are few Horses that may not be gradu- 

 ally rendered manageable for this purpose by mildness 

 and firmness in the operator. They will soon understand 




238 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



that no harm is meant, and they will not depart from their 

 usual habit of obedience; but if the remembrance of cor- 

 poral punishment is connected with shoeing, they will 

 always be fidgetty, if not dangerous. 



This is a very serious vice, for it not only exposes the 

 animal to occasional severe injury from his own struggles, 

 but also from the correction of the irritated smith, whose 

 limbs, and even whose life being in jeopardy, may be for- 

 given if he is sometimes a little too hard-handed. Such a 

 Horse is very liable, and without any fault of the smith, 

 to be pricked and lamed in shoeing; and if the habit should 

 be confirmed, and should increase, and it at length be- 

 comes necessary to cast him, or to put him in the trevis, 

 the owner may be assured that many years will not pass 

 ere some formidable and even fatal accident will take 

 place. If, therefore, mild treatment will not correct the 

 vice, the Horse cannot be too soon got rid of. 



Horses have many unpleasant habits in the stable and 

 the road, which cannot be said to amount to vice, but 

 which materially lessen their value. 



SWALLOWING WITHOUT GRINDING. 



Some greedy Horses swallow tlieir corn without properly 

 grinding it, and the power of digestion not being ade- 

 quate to the dissolving of the husk, no nutriment is ex- 

 tracted, and the oats are voided whole. This is particu- 

 larly the case when Horses of unequal appetite feed from 

 the same manger. The greedy one, in his eagerness to 

 get more than his share, bolts a portion of his corn whole. 

 If the farmer can, without considerable inconvenience, so 

 manage it that every Horse shall have his separate divi- 

 sion of the manger, the Horse of smaller appetite and 

 slower feed would have the opportunity of grinding at 

 his leisure, without the fear of his share being stolen from 

 him by his neighbour. 



Some Horses, however, are naturally greedy feeders, 

 and will not, even when alone, allow themselves time to 

 chew or grind the corn. In consequence of this, they 

 carry but little flesh; they are not equal to severe work; 

 and, if their rack has been supplied with hay when the 

 corn was put into the manger, their stomachs will become 

 distended with half-chewed and indigestible food; they 

 will be incapable of exertion for a long time after feeding, 

 and, occasionally, dangerous symptoms of staggers will 

 occur. The remedy is, not to let such Horses fast too 

 long. The nose-bag should be the companion of every 

 considerable journey. The food should likewise be of 

 such a nature that it cannot be easily bolted. Chaff should 

 be plentifully mixed with the corn, and in some cases, 

 and especially in Horses of slow work, should, with the 



corn, constitute the whole of the food. Of this we shall 

 treat more largely under the article " Feeding." 



In every case of this kind the teeth should be very 

 carefully examined. Some of them maybe unduly length- 

 ened, particularly the first of the grinders; or they may 

 be ragged at the edges, and may scratch and wound the 

 cheek. In the first case the Horse cannot properly mas- 

 ticate his food; in the latter he will not: for these animals, 

 as too often happens in sore throat, would rather starve 

 than put themselves to much pain. 



CRIB-BITING. 



This is a very unpleasant habit, and a considerable defect, 

 although not so serious a one as some have represented. 

 The Horse lays hold of the manger with his teeth, vio- 

 lently extends his neck, and then, after some convulsive 

 action of the throat, a slight grunting is heard, accompa- 

 nied by an apparent sucking or drawing in the air. Whe- 

 ther, however, air is actually drawn in, and thus the 

 Horse becomes more subject to colic than one without this 

 trick, or whether a portion of air is expelled, showing the 

 previous existence of flatulence and a disposition to colic, 

 are points that have not been settled among the veterina- 

 rians. 



The Horse is evidently making the edge of the manger 

 a fixed point, by means of which he may overcome that 

 obstacle which the formation of the soft palate and the 

 back part of the mouth, would present to either 

 the expulsion or drawing in of the air, if accom- 

 plished through the medium of the mouth. When we 

 consider, however, that any air expelled from the stomach 

 might easily find a passage through the nostril, without 

 the action of crib-biting; while it would be difiicultor im- 

 possible, without some alteration in the natural form and 

 action of the parts at the back of the mouth, and particu- 

 larly the depression of the epiglottis or covering of the 

 windpipe, to convey air to the stomach, we are inclined 

 to conclude, that this fixed point is used to enable the ani- 

 mal to accomplish this alteration, and suck up and convey 

 a portion of air into the stomach. 



The effect of crib-biting is plain enough. The teeth 

 are injured and worn away, and that, in an old Horse, to 

 a very serious degree; a considerable quantity of corn is 

 often lost, for the Horse will frequently crib with his 

 mouth full of corn, the greater part of which will fall 

 over the edge of the manger; and much saliva flows out 

 while the manger is thus forcibly held, the loss of which 

 must be of serious detriment, as impairing the digestion. 

 The crib-biting Horse is notoriously more subject to colic 

 than other Horses usually are, and to a species difficult 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



of treatment, and even dangerous. Although many a 

 crib-biter is stout and strong, and capable of all ordinary 

 uork, these Horses do not generally carry much flesh, 

 and have not the endurance of others. On these accounts, 

 crib-biting has very properly been decided to be unsound- 

 ness. 



It is one of those tricks which are very contagious. 

 Every companion of a crib-biter in the same stables is 

 likely to acquire the habit, and it is the most inveterate 

 of all habits. The edge of the manger will in vain be 

 lined with iron, or with sheep-skin, or with sheep-skin 

 covered with tar or aloes, or any other unpleasant sub- 

 stance. In defiance of the annoyance which these may 

 occasion, the Horse will in a very short time again attack 

 his manger. A strap buckled tightly round the neck, 

 by compressing the windpipe, will prevent the possibility 

 of this action; but the strap must be constantly worn, and 

 its pressure is too apt to produce a worse affection, viz. 

 an irritation in the windpipe, which terminates in roar- 

 ing. 



Some have recommended turning out for five or six 

 months, but this has never succeeded except with a young 

 Horse, and then rarely. The old crib-biter will employ 

 the gate for the same purpose as the edge of his manger, 

 and we have seen him gallop across a field for the mere 

 object of having a gripe at a rail. Medicine will be alto- 

 gether thrown away in this case. 



The only remedy is a muzzle, with bars across the bot- 

 tom, sufficiently wide to enable tlie animal to pick up his 

 corn and pull his hay, but not to grasp the edge of the 

 manger. If this be worn a very long time, the Horse 

 may be tired of attempting that which he cannot accom- 

 plish, and may possibly for a while forget the habit; but 

 in the majority of cases the desire of crib-biting will re- 

 turn with the power of gratifying it. 



The causes of crib-biting are various, and some of them 

 beyond the control of the proprietor of the Horse. We 

 have said that it is often the result of imitation; but it is 

 more frequently the consequence of idleness. The high- 

 fed and spirited Horse must be in mischief, if he is not 

 usefully employed. Sometimes, but we believe not often, 

 it is produced by partial starvation, whether in a bad straw- 

 yard, or from unpalatable food. An occasional cause of 

 crib-biting is the frequent custom of grooms, even when 

 the weather is not severe, of dressing them in the stable. 

 The Horse either catches at the edge of the manger, or at 

 the edge of the partition on each side, if he has been turn- 

 ed, and thus he forms the habit of laying hold of these 

 substances on every occasion. 



( To be continued. ) 



THE COMING OF WINTER. 



We are in a season of darkness, storms, and mists; of 

 the whirling away of the withered leaves, and the introduc- 

 tion of complete winter. Rain, hail, and wind, chase each 

 other over the fields, and amongst the woods in rapid alter- 

 nations. Theflovversaregone; thelonggrass stands amongst 

 the woodland thickets withered, bleached, and sere; thefern 

 is red and shrivelled amongstthegreen gorse and broom; the 

 plants, which waved their broad, white umbels to the sum- 

 mer breeze, like skeleton-trophies of death, rattle their dry 

 and hollow kexes to the autumnal winds. The brooks are 

 brimful; the rivers turbid, and covered with masses of foam, 

 hurry on in angry strength, or pour their waters over the 

 champain. Our very gardens are sad, damp, and desolate. 

 Their floral splendours are dead; naked stems and decaying 

 leaves have taken the place of verdure. The walks are un- 

 kempt and uninviting; and as these summer friends of ours 

 are no longer affluent and of flourishing estate, we, of course, 

 desert them. 



The return of winter is pleasurable even in its severity. 

 The first snows that come dancing down ; tlie first frost that 

 rimes the hedges, variegates the windows, or shoots itsfine, 

 long crystals across the smallest puddle, or the widest sheet 

 of water, bring with them the remembrance of our boyish 

 pleasures, our slidings and skatings — oursnow-ballings and 

 snow-rolling — our snow-man making — the wonders of hoar- 

 frosts — of nightly snow-driftsin hollowlanes — of caves and 

 houses, scooped in the wintry heaps with much labour and 

 delight; and of scampering over hedge and ditch on the 

 frozen snow, that "crunched beneath the tread," but broke 

 not. 



The dark, wet, and wintry days, and the long dismal 

 nights of this season, are, however, favourable to fireside 

 enjoyments and occupations. Driven from the fields and 

 woods, where we have found so much delight, so many 

 objects of interest, or employment, we may now sit with- 

 in and hear the storm rage around, conscious that the 

 fruits of the earth are secured, and that, like the bees in 

 their hives, we have not let the summer escape, but have 

 laid up stores of sweetness for the time of darkness and 

 dearth. In large farm-houses, many useful avocations 

 may enliven the evening fireside; and it is now become 

 a laudable custom in many superior farms, to encourage 

 reading and other means of mental improvement, which 

 the continual engagements of a rural labourer preclude 

 during the summer. The cottager may usefully, by his 

 winter fire, construct bee-hives, nets, mole-traps, bird- 

 cages, ect.; with any of these employments I have more 

 sympathy than with the last, however. 



Of all men who pursue rural occupations, the bird-catch- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



urs, especially the summer bird-catchers, they who do not 

 capture birds when they have congregated in winter, when 

 they have no mates or young ones to feel the effects of 

 their loss, and are ready for the table of the epicure, but 

 who take only singing birds, and take them too wherever 

 and whenever they can, without regard to their having 

 young, which may perish by their absence, or to that 

 harsh change, from the full enjoyment of summer sunshine 

 and pleasures to the captivity of the cage. When I see 

 their nets spread in the fields where birds resort, I wish 

 them all manner of villainous ill-luck; and I never omit a 

 favourable opportunity of deranging or destroying their 

 snares when they fall in my way. 



There are none of our customs which more mark our 

 selfishness than that of keeping singing birds in perpetual 

 confinement, making the pleasure of our ears their misfor- 

 tune; and that sweet gift, which God has given them, 

 wherewith to make themselves happy, and the country 

 delightful, the curse of their lives. If we were content- 

 ed, however, with taking and rearing young ones, which 

 never knew the actual blessing of liberty, or of propa- 

 gating them in cages or avaries, the evil would not be so 

 enormous. But the practice of seizing singing birds, 

 which have always enjoyed the freedom of the earth and 

 air, in summer when they are busy with the pleasant cares 

 of their nests or young broods, and subjecting them to a 

 close prison, is detestable — doubly detestable in the case 

 of migratory birds, which have not merely the common 

 love of liberty, but the instinct of migration to struggle 

 with. To behold a bird which God has created to fly from 

 land to land to crown the pleasantness of spring with the 

 most delicious music, or which he has made to soar, in the 

 raptureof itsheart, up to heaven's gates, "cribbed, cabined, 

 and confined" in a narrow cage by man, is one of the 

 most melancholy objects on earth. Let those who have 

 liearts for it keep them, and listen to them with what 

 pleasure they may; for my part, wjiile I am myself sensi- 

 IjIc of the charms of freedom, and of the delights of the 

 summer fields, I shall continue to prefer the " wood notes 

 wild" of liberty to a captive's wail. — Book of Seasons. 



EARLY AWAKENING OF BIRDS. 



At one period of my life, being an early waker and 

 riser, my attention was frequently drawn <'to songs of 

 earliest birds;" and I always observed that these creatures 

 ajipeared abroad at very different periods as the light ad- 

 vanced. The rook is perhaps the first to salute the open- 

 ing morn; but this bird seems rather to rest than to sleep. 

 Always vigilant, the least alarm after retirement rouses 



instantly the whole assemblage, not successively, but col- 

 lectively. It is appointed to be a ready mover. Its prin- 

 cipal food is worms, which feed and crawl upon the humid 

 surface of the ground in the dusk, and retire before the 

 light of day; and, roosting higher than other birds, the 

 first rays of the sun, as they peep from the horizon, be- 

 come visible to it. The restless, inquisitive robin now is 

 seen too. This is the last bird that retires in the even- 

 ing, being frequently flitting about when the owl and bat 

 are visible, and awakes so soon in the morning, that little 

 rest seems required by it. Its fine large e)'es are fitted 

 to receive all, even the weakest rays of light that appear. 

 The worm is its food too, and few that move upon the sur- 

 face escape its notice. The cheerful melody of the wren 

 is the next we hear, as it bustles from its ivied roost; and 

 we note its gratulation to the young-eyed day, when twi- 

 light almost hides the little minstrel from our sight. The 

 sparrow roosts in holes, and under the eaves of the rick 

 or shed, where the light does not so soon enter, and hence 

 is rather a tardy mover; but it is always ready for food, 

 and seems to listen to what is going forward. We see it 

 now peeping from its penthouse, inquisitively surveying 

 the land; and, should provision be obtainable, it imme- 

 diately descends upon it without any scruple, and makes 

 itself a welcome guest with all. It retires early to rest. 

 The black-bird quits its leafy roost in the ivied ash; its 

 " chink, chink," is heard in the hedge; and, mounting on 

 some neighbouring oak, with mellow, sober voice, it gra- 

 tulates the coming day. "The plain-song cuckoo gray" 

 from some tall tree now tells its tale. The lark is in the 

 air, the " martin twitters from her earth-built shed," all 

 the choristers are tuning in the grove; and amid such 

 tokens of awakening pleasure it becomes difficult to note 

 priority of voice. These are the matin voices of the sum- 

 mer season: in winter a cheerless chirp, or a hungry twit, 

 is all we hear; the families of voice are away, or silent; 

 we have little to note, and perhaps as little inclination to 

 observe. — Jour, of a Naturalist. 



SINGULAR OCCURRENCE. 



A few weeks since, as one of our sportsmen was out 

 gunning, in the vicinity of this place, his dog started a 

 wookcock, which he immediately fired at and hit, whilst 

 flying rapidly with the wind; and such was the impetus it 

 had acquired by the rapidity of its flight, that in descend- 

 ing in nearly a horizontal line to the earth, it struck a corn 

 stalk, which was penetrated entirely through by its bit/, 

 by which it hung suspended to the corn stalk, and in which 

 situation it was found by the gentleman who shot it. 



[Reading Chronicle. 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



THE GRAY SQUIRREL. 



SCIURUS CJiROLINENSIS. 



(Plate XXI. Vol. 2.) 



Sciurus CarolinensisetCinereus; Gmel. Schreb. tab. 213. 

 Sciurus Carolinensis, Godman. Vol. 2. p. 131. Petit 

 Gris: Buff. 10. jo/. 25. encycl. pi. 74. fig. 3. Ecureuil 

 gris de la Carolina; Bosc. ir. p. 96. j]l. 29: F. Cuv. 

 Mam. Lithog. livr. lie. Gray Squirrel: Penn. Arct. 

 Zool. I. 135. Hist. Quad. No. 272. — J. Doughty's 

 Collection. 



There are few animals better known in this country 

 than the one under present notice, and, from the circum- 

 stance of their being introduced so frequently as pets in 

 human habitations, our knowledge is acquired at a very 

 early age. They are, however, so plentifully scattered 

 over every part of the United States, that it is to be pre- 

 sumed, scarcely an individual can be found who is igno- 

 rant of the Gray Squirrel. 



The pursuit of this animal has always been looked upon 

 as a very inviting sport, and is entered into by both old 

 and young, until age and eyesight in the former render 

 the sport a burthen; and by the latter, so soon as the 

 fowling-piece or rifle can be effectually wielded, and 

 " dropping Squirrels" from the tallest trees, are the boast- 

 ed exploits of each. On the mountains, and in the newly- 

 settled districts of the country, this sport is very common; 

 perhaps because these animals abound in greater numbers 

 there. In destroying Squirrels some use the short gun, 

 and others the rifle; the latter, however, is more common- 

 ly used, in consequence of the good practice the sport 

 affords for the use of that instrument; the part usually 

 aimed at is the head, and so accurate are practitioners in 

 shooting the rifle, that seldom any other part of the ani- 

 mal is struck; sometimes, those who are superior in skill, 

 show their dexterity in killing the animal, without 

 striking it with the ball; this is called by the hunters 

 " barking Squirrels," and is performed by striking the 

 bark immediately under the Squirrel, which destroys 

 life instantaneously, by the violence of the concussion 

 thus effected. 



To an inexperienced eye, the Squirrel, when lodged in 

 the foliage of a tall tree, is a difficult object to discover, 

 and when seen by such, they frequently are at a loss to 

 determine whether the object seen is a Squirrel or not. 

 These animals are not only shy, but most agile in their 

 movements, and these qualities are increased accordingly 

 P pp 



as they become persecuted, to so great extent, that in pass- 

 ing from limb to limb of adjoining trees, they frequently 

 elude the most active pursuit. 



In districts where Squirrels abound, they may be seen 

 at all hours, except the middle of the day; but in thickly 

 inhabited neighbourhoods, where they are shot at and 

 worried much, it requires great caution to discover them; 

 the most propitious periods then, are from daylight to sun- 

 rise, and from sunset until dark. The approach of the 

 huntsman at these times must be with much quietness 

 and caution, and must be directed always to those trees 

 which are their favourite resort for food, the chief of 

 which is the shellbark. The keen eye of an experienced 

 Squirrel hunter cannot always discover the object of his 

 pursuit on the tall trees which grow in our forests, and 

 is often obliged to determine the presence of these ani- 

 mals by the fragments gnawed from the nuts which lie 

 scattered beneath the trees. Sometimes a dropping nut 

 denotes a Squirrel nigh, if not on the tree of his imme- 

 diate search. A falling nut may be heard through the 

 still wood at a very considerable distance, and so soon as 

 the sound reaches the ear of the hunter, he directs his foot- 

 steps to the spot whence the sound proceeded, with quiet 

 stealth, and soon discovers the game eating its food on the 

 topmost branches of the tree; sometimes the animal, warn- 

 ed of the approach of its enemy by the rustling leaves or 

 the cracking twigs beneath his footsteps, seeks safety by 

 escaping to its hole, or hides itself against some large 

 limb of the same tree, or runs to the extremity of the top, 

 and there remains motionless in supposed security amid 

 the thickest collection of leaves. The eyes and ingenuity 

 of the hunter are now employed to detect his prey; he 

 looks with intensity into every limb and branch, but un- 

 able to discern the wary little animal, he tries other posi- 

 tions around the tree, until at length he sees a spot among 

 the leaves of more density than other parts, or perhaps, 

 on a limb, a small gray tuft, like moss or tow, and level- 

 ling his gun, he fires, and the falling Squirrel proves the 

 unerring certainty of his judgment. It often happens, 

 however, that a Squirrel cannot be discovered in these po- 

 sitions when in a quiescent state, and ingenuity is em- 

 ployed to excite motion, and this effected, no matter how 

 trivial, will at once discover the position of the game. The 

 means usually employed to do this, are the shaking of a 

 small bush near or under the tree on which the animal is 

 supposed to be lodged, or striking its trunk with vio- 

 lence. 



In many parts where Squirrels are scarce, they are hunt- 

 ed with small dogs, trained for the purpose, which, so 

 soon as a tree on which a Squirrel rests is discovered, sig- 

 nify it to their master by barking; and with a good dog of 




342 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



this description a hunter will tree and shoot many Squir- 

 rels. 



The food of the Gray Squirrel consists of hickory-nuts, 

 ohesnuts, beech-nuts, acorns, maize, Indian corn, and 

 every other variety of cultivated grain; and it frequently 

 requires the utmost vigilance of the husbandman to protect 

 his interests from suffering materially by the frequent and 

 destructive visits of these his unwelcome little neighbours. 

 Pennant in his Zoology remarks, "that from January, 

 1749, to January, 1750, Pennsylvania paid eight thousand 

 pounds currency; but on complaint being made by the 

 deputies that their treasuries were exhausted by these re- 

 wards, they were reduced to' one-half, that is from three 

 pence to a penny and a half." On the history of this 

 Squirrel, and Squirrels in general. Dr. Godman says: 



" The Gray Squirrel prefers the oak, hickory and 

 chesnut woods, where it finds a copious supply of nuts 

 and mast, of which it provides large hoards for the winter. 

 Their nests are placed chiefly in tall oak-trees at the forks 

 of the branches; these nests are very comfortable, being 

 thickly covered and lined with dried leaves. During cold 

 weather the Squirrels seldom leave these snug retreats, ex- 

 cept for the purpose of visiting their store-houses, and ob- 

 taining a supply of provisions. It has been observed that 

 the approach of uncommonly cold weather is foretold 

 when these Squirrels are seen out in unusual numbers, 

 gathering a larger stock of provisions, lest their magazines 

 should fail. This, however, is not an infallible sign, at 

 least in vicinities where many hogs are allowed to roam 

 at large, as these keen-nosed brutes arc very expert at dis- 

 covering the winter hoards of the Squirrel, which they 

 immediately appropriate to their own use. 



" If the Gray Squirrels confined themselves to the diet 

 afforded by the forest trees, the farmers would profit con- 

 siderably thereby. But, having once tasted the sweet- 

 ness of Indian corn and other cultivated grains, they leave 

 acorns and such coarse fare to the hogs, while they invade 

 the corn-fields, and carry off and destroy a very large 

 quantity. 



"This species is remarkable among all our Squirrels 

 for its beauty and activity. It is in captivity remarkably 

 playful and mischievous, and is more frequently kept as 

 a pet than any oilier. It becomes very tame, and may be 

 allowed to spend a great deal of the time entirely at liberty, 

 where there is nothing exposed that can be injured by its 

 teeth, which it is sure to try upon every article of furni- 

 ture, &c., in its vicinity. This Squirrel, when domesti- 

 cated, drinks frequentlj-, and a considerable quantity of 

 water at each draught. 



"The Gray Squirrel varies considerably in colour, but 

 is most commonly of a fine bluish gray, mingled with a 



slight golden hue. This golden colour is especially ob- 

 vious on the head, along the sides, where the white hair 

 of the belly approaches the gray of the sides, and on the 

 anterior part of the fore and superior part of the hind feet, 

 where it is very rich and deep. This mark on the hind 

 feet is very permanent, and evident even in those varieties 

 which differ most from the common colour. There is one 

 specimen in the Philadelphia Museum of a light brown- 

 ish red on all the superior parts of the body." 



"The species comprised in this genus are in different 

 degrees remarkable for their sprightly agility and grace- 

 ful movements, as well as for their personal beauty and 

 neatness. The forest is their appropriate residence, and 

 nature has provided them not only with the means of ra- 

 pidly ascending the loftiest trees, but with teeth capable 

 of opening the way to food, which is effectually secured 

 from almost every other creature. The hardest nuts found 

 in the woods afford ample provision to the Squirrels, and 

 the number of nuts destroyed by these animals, though 

 small when compared with the whole quantity produced, 

 must have some effect in preventing the superabundant in- 

 crease of forest trees. 



" The muscular strength displayed by these animals is 

 very great, when compared with their size. They make 

 astonishing leaps from branch to branch, and from tree to 

 tree, when engaged in sporting with each other, or en- 

 deavouring to escape from pursuit. At such times, when 

 no tree is sufficiently near to be reached by a single spring, 

 the Squirrel unhesitatingly drops from the greatest height 

 to the ground, and falls with a force apparently suflicient 

 to crush him; but no injury is experienced, and a few se- 

 conds are sufficient for his escape into the top of the near- 

 est tree. 



" The actions of most of these animals are marked by a 

 peculiar vivacity and playfulness. When moving on the 

 ground, Squirrels advance by a succession of short leaps, 

 while the long bushy tail, waving in graceful undulations, 

 renders their whole appearance very interesting. When 

 engaged in listening, they sit erect on their hinder limbs, 

 having the tail beautifully raised against the back, and 

 falling into an easy curve at its extremity towards the 

 ground. In eating, the position is much the same; the food 

 is held in the fore paws, principally between the rudi- 

 mental thumbs and the adjoining part of the palms. The 

 facility with which they cut through the covering of the hard- 

 est nuts is very remarkable; they first turn the nut about 

 until they get it into the most favourable position, and 

 then examine it by gnawing slightly in different places. If 

 the nut be withered or rotten it is speedily thrown aside 

 and another sought. W>.en a good one is obtained, and the 

 proper place for opening it is selected, (which is the thin- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



243 



nest part, immediately over the kernel,) a small linear 

 opening is first made, which at length admits the points of 

 the lower front teeth. These are now inserted, and the 

 hole enlarged by breaking off successive pieces of the 

 snell in the direction of the kernel. A hickory-nut is 

 thus frequently cut down on four sides from end to end, 

 leaving the intermediate thick portions untouched. After 

 satisfying his hunger the Squirrel generally buries the su- 

 perfluous food; previous to the approach of winter large 

 hoards of nuts and grain are collected and secured in the 

 ground for future use. Tlieir nests are at no great distance 

 from these store-houses, and are built of small sticks and 

 leaves in the top branches of forest trees, or in hollows of 

 their trunks, except in the case of a few species which in- 

 habit burrows at all times. All the Squirrels are peculiar- 

 ly cleanly, and are frequently seen to rub their heads and 

 faces with their fore paws as if for the purpose of washing. 

 When they accidentally step into water they make use of 

 their bushy tail for the purpose of drying themselves, pass- 

 ing it several times through their hands. 



" Like most of the animals belonging to this order, they 

 are very prolific, and multiply until from their numbers 

 large districts of country are injuriously overrun by them. 

 They then invade and literally lay waste the corn-fields, 

 consuming vast quantities of grain, and destroy nearly as 

 much as they eat by breaking it down and scattering it on 

 the ground. On such occasions the farmers in thinly set- 

 tled districts severely suffer, and are deprived of a large 

 share of the fruits of their industry. The efforts of a whole 

 family are occasionally insufficient to drive off or destroy 

 these busy plunderers, as new crowds appear to be con- 

 tinually arriving to renew the depredation. 



" While travelling through the state of Ohio, in the 

 autumn of 1822, we had an opportunity of witnessing 

 something of this sort. Parts of the country appeared to 

 swarm with Squirrels, which were so numerous, that, in 

 travelling along the high road, they might be seen scam- 

 pering in every direction; the woods and fields might be 

 truly said, in the country phrase, to be 'alive with them.' 

 A farmer, who had a large field of Indian corn near the 

 road, informed us, that notwithstanding the continued ex- 

 ertions of himself and his two sons, he feared he should 

 lose the greater part of his crop, in addition to his time 

 and the expense of ammunition used in killing and scaring 

 off the little robbers. This man and his sons frequently 

 took stations in different parts of the field, and killed 

 Squirrels until their guns became too dirty longer to be 

 used with safety; yet they always found, on returning, 

 that the Squirrels had mustered as strongly as before. 

 During this journey we frequently met Squirrel-shooters 

 Jieavily laden with this game, whichj in many instances, 



they had only desisted from slaying from want of ammu- 

 nition or through mere fatigue. 



"Fortunately for the farmers these animals are not at 

 the same time equally numerous in different parts of the 

 country. We found the Squirrels, in 1822, most numerous 

 throughout the country lying between the Great and Lit- 

 tle Miami rivers; they became evidently fewer as we ad- 

 vanced towards Chillicothe, and beyond that place were 

 so rare as to be seldom seen. During some seasons they 

 appear to move in mass, deserting certain districts entire- 

 ly, and concentrating upon others. In such migrations 

 vast numbers are drowned in crossing the rivers, and num- 

 bers are also destroyed by beasts and birds of prey, and 

 various other causes." 



THE MOCKING-BIRD. 



Among the many novelties which the discovery of 

 this part of the western continent first brought into notice, 

 we may reckon that of the Mocking-bird; which is not 

 only peculiar to the new world, but inhabits a very con- 

 siderable extent of both North and South America; hav- 

 ing been traced from the states of New England to Bra- 

 zil; and also among many of the adjacent islands. They 

 are, however, much more numerous in those states south, 

 than in those north, of the river Delaware; being general- 

 ly migratory in the latter, and resident, (at least many of 

 them,) in the former. A warm climate, and low countrj^, 

 not far from the sea, seem most congenial to their nature; 

 accordingly we find the species less numerous to the west 

 than east of the great range of the Alleghany, in the same 

 parallels of latitude. The berries of the red cedar, myr- 

 tle, holly, Cassine shrub, many species of smilax, together 

 withgum-berries, gall-berries, and a profusion of others with 

 which the luxuriant swampy thickets of those regions 

 abound, furnish them with a perpetual feast. Winged in- 

 sects, also, of which they are very fond, and remarkably 

 expert at catching, abound there even in winter, and are 

 an additional inducement to residency. 



The precise time at which the Mocking-bird begins to 

 build his nest varies according to the latitude in which 

 he resides. In the lower parts of Georgia he commences 

 building early in April; but in Pennsylvania rarely be- 

 fore the 10th of May; and in New-York, and the states of 

 New-England, still later. There are particular situations 

 to which he gives the preference. A solitary thorn bush, 

 an almost impenetrable thicket; an orange tree, cedar, 

 or holly-bush, are favourite spots, and frequently select- 

 ed. It is no great objection with him that these happen, 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



sometimes, to be near the farm or mansion house: always 

 ready to defend, but never overanxious to conceal, his nest, 

 lie very often builds within a small distance of the house; 

 and not unfrequenlly in a pear or apple tree; rarely at a 

 greater height than six or seven feet from the ground. The 

 nest varies a little with different individuals, according to 

 theconveniency of collecting suitable materials. It is some- 

 times composed of the following substances: Firsta quan- 

 tity of dry twigs and sticks, then withered tops of weeds 

 of the preceding year, intermixed with fine straws, hay, 

 ])ieces of wool and tow; and lastly, a thick layer of fine 

 fibrous roots, of a light brown colour, lines the whole. The 

 eggs are four, sometimes five, of a cinerous blue, marked 

 with large blotches of brown. The female sits fourteen 

 days; and generally produces two broods in the season, un- 

 less robbed of her eggs, in which case she will even build 

 and lay the third time. She is, however, extremely jealous 

 of her nest, and very apt to forsake it if much disturbed. 

 During the period of incubation, neither cat, dog, animal, 

 or man, can approach the nest without being attacked. 

 The cats, in particular, are persecuted whenever they 

 make their appearance, till obliged to retreat. But his 

 whole vengeance is most particularly directed against that 

 mortal enemy of his eggs and young, the black snake. 

 Whenever the insidious approaches of this reptile are dis- 

 covered, the male darts upon it with the rapidity of an 

 arrow, dexterously eluding its bite, and striking it vio- 

 lently and incessantly about the head, where it is very 

 vulnerable. The snake soon becomes sensible of its dan- 

 ger, and seeks to escape; but the intrepid defender of his 

 young redoubles his exertions, and, unless his antagonist 

 be of great magnitude, often succeeds in destro3'ing him. 

 All its pretended powers of fascination avail it nothing 

 against the vengeance of this noble bird. As the snake's 

 strength begins to flag, the Mocking-bird seizes and lifts it 

 up, partly from the ground, beating it with its wings, and 

 when the business is completed, he returns to the reposi- 

 tory of his young, mounts the summit of the bush, and 

 pours out a torrent of song in token of victory. 



As it is of some consequence to be able to distinguish a 

 young male bird from a female, the following marks may 

 be attended to; by which some pretend to be able to dis- 

 tinguish them in less than a week after they are hatched. 

 These are, the breadth and purity of the white on the 

 wings, for that on the tail is not so much to be depended 

 on. This white, in a full grown male bird, spreads over 

 the whole nine primaries, down to, and considerably be- 

 low, their coverts, which are also white, sometimes light- 

 ly tipt with brown. The white of tlie primaries also ex- 

 tends equally far on both vanes of the feathers. In the 

 female the white is less pure, spreads over only seven or 



eight of the primaries, does not extend so far, and extends 

 considerably farther down on the broad than on the nar- 

 row side of the feathers. The black is also more of a 

 brownish cast. 



If the young bird is designed to be taught by an old 

 one, the best singer should be selected for this office, and 

 no other allowed to be beside him. Or if by the bird organ, 

 or mouth whistling, it should be begun early, and con- 

 tinued, pretty constantly, hy the same 2Jerson, until the 

 scholar, who is seldom inattentive, has completely ac- 

 quired his lesson. The best singing birds, however, in 

 my own opinion, are those that have been reared in the 

 country, and educated under the tuition of the feathered 

 choristers of the surrounding fields, groves, woods, and 

 meadows. 



The plumage of tlie Mocking-bird, though none of the 

 homeliest, has nothing gaudy or brilliant in it, and, had 

 he nothing else to recommend him, would scarcely en- 

 title him to notice, but his figure is well proportioned, and 

 even handsome. The ease, elegance and rapidity of his 

 movements, the animation of his eye, and the intelligence 

 he displays in listening and laying up lessons from almost 

 every species of the feathered creation within hishearing, are 

 really surprising, and mark the peculiarity of his genius. 

 To these qualities we may add that of a voice full, strong, 

 and musical, and capable of almost every modulation, 

 from the clear mellow tones of the wood thrush, to the 

 savage scream of the bald eagle. In measure and accent he 

 faithfully follows his originals. In force and sweetness 

 of expression he greatly improves upon them. In his na- 

 tive groves, mounted on the top of a tall bush or half- 

 grown tree, in the dawn of dewy morning, while the 

 woods are already vocal with a multitude of warblers, his 

 admirable song rises pre-eminent over every competitor. 

 The ear can listen to his music alone, to which that of all 

 the others seems a mere accompaniment. Neither is this 

 strain altogether imitative. His own native notes, which 

 are easily distinguishable by such as are well acquainted 

 with those of our various song birds, are bold and full, and 

 varied seemingly beyond all limits. They consist of short 

 expressions of two, three, or at the most five or six sylla- 

 bles; generally interspersed with imitations, and all of 

 them uttered with great emphasis and rapidity; and con- 

 tinued, with undiminished ardour, for half an hour, or an 

 hour at a time. His expanded wings and tail, glistening 

 with white, and the buoyant gaiety of his action, arrest- 

 ing the eye, as his song most irresistibly does the ear. He 

 sweeps round with enthusiastic ecstacy — he mounts and 

 descends as his song swells or dies awa}'; and, as Mr. Bar- 

 tram has beautifully expressed it, " He bounds aloft with 

 the celerity of an arrow, as if to recover or recal his very 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



sjul, expired in the last elevated strain." While thus 

 exerting himself, a bystander, destitute of sight, would 

 suppose that the whole feathered tribes had assembled to- 

 gether, on a trial of skill; each striving to produce his ut- 

 most effect; so perfect are his imitations. He njany times 

 deceives the sportsman, and sends him in search of birds 

 that perhaps are not within miles of him; but whose notes 

 he exactly imitates: even birds themselves are frequently 

 imposed on by this admirable mimic, and are decoyed by 

 the fancied calls of their mates; or dive, with precipita- 

 tion, into the depth of thickets, at the scream of what they 

 suppose to be the sparrow hawk. 



The Mocking-bird loses little of the power and energy 

 of his song by confinement. In his domesticated state, 

 when he commences his career of song, it is impossible to 

 stand by uninterested. He whistles for the dog; Caesar 

 starts up, wags his tail, and runs to meet his master. He 

 squeaks out like a hurt chicken, and the hen hurries about 

 with hanging wings, and bristled feathers, clucking to 

 protect its injured brood. The barking of the dog, the 

 mewing of the cat, the creaking of a passing wheel-bar- 

 row, follow, with great truth and rapidity. He repeats 

 the tune taught him by his master, though of considerable 

 length, fully and faithfullj'. He runs over the quiverings 

 of the canary, and the clear whistlings of the Virginia 

 nightingale, or red-bird, with such superior execution and 

 effect, that the mortified songsters feel their own inferi- 

 ority, and become altogether silent; while he seems to 

 triumph in their defeat by redoubling his exertions. 



This excessive fondness for variet}-, however, in the 

 opinion of some, injures his song. His elevated imita- 

 tion of the brown thrush are frequently interrupted by the 

 crowing of cocks; and the warblings of the blue-bird, 

 which he exquisitely manages, are mingled with the 

 screaming of swallows, or the cackling of hens; amidst the 

 simple melody of the robin we are suddenly surprised by 

 the shrill reiterations of the whippoorwill; while the notes 

 of the kildeer, blue jay, martin, baltimore, and twenty 

 others, succeed, with such imposing reality, that we look 

 round for the originals, and discover, with astonishment, 

 that the sole performer in this singular concert is the admi- 

 rable bird now before us. During this exhibition of his 

 powers he spreads his wings, expands his tail, and throws 

 himself around the cage in all the ecstacy of enthusiasm, 

 seeming not only to sing, but to dance, keeping time to 

 the measure of his own music. Both in his native and do- 

 mesticated state, during the solmen stillness of night, as 

 soon as the moon rises in silent majesty, he begins his de- 

 lightful solo; and serenades us the live long night with a 

 full display of his vocal powers, making the whole neigh- 

 bourhood ring with Iiis inimitable medley. — Wilson. 

 Q Q q 



THE TAMARIND-TREE. 



The tamarind-tree is a native both of the East In- 

 dies and of tropical America, and probably also of Arabia 

 and some parts of Africa. It was very early introduced 

 into England; for Gerarde, whose Herbal was published 

 in 1633, makes mention of it as growing there. It does 

 not often flower in that country, though it has done so in 

 the Royal Gardens at Kew. It is, however, a common or- 

 nament of their hot-houses. Where it is a native, it grows 

 to be a large tree, and affords excellent timber — heavy, 

 firm, hard, and durable. The stem is large, covered with 

 brown bark, and divides into many branches; the leaves 

 are not unlike those of the mountain ash, only they are of 

 a brighter green, and the leaflets are closer to the mid-rib. 

 The leaflets are small, but the number in a leaf, (sixteen 

 or eighteen pairs in a leaf, with an odd one at the ex- 

 tremity,) give the tree a very light and elegant appear- 

 ance. Tlie flowers come out from the sides of the branches 

 in loose bunches, and are followed by the pods, of which 

 there are generally about five or six on a bunch. The pods 

 of the West India tamarinds, are, on an average, about 

 three inches long, and contain about three seeds; those 

 from the East are about double the size. 



The pulp in which the seeds of the tamarind are in- 

 closed, contains more acid than any other vegetable sub- 

 stance, in a natural state, with which we are acquainted; 

 and therefore it is used both for sharpening food and drink ; 

 and for medicinal purposes. Niebuhr says, "the tama- 

 rind is equally useful and agreeable. It has a pulp of a vi- 

 nous taste, of which a wholesome refreshing liquor is pre- 

 pared; its shade shelters houses from the torrid heat of the 

 sun; and its fine figure greatly adorns the scenery of the 

 country." Its refreshing properties has given it a place 

 in poetry: 



" The damsel from the tamarind-tree 



Had pluck'd its acid fruit, 



And steep'd it in water Jong; 

 And whoso drank of thecoolino^ draught, 

 He would not wish for wine." 



Mandelslo, an old traveller, says, that as soon as the sun 

 is set the leaves of the tamarind close up the fruit to pre- 

 serve it from the dew, and open as soon as tliat luminary 

 appears again: 



" 'Tis the cool evening hour: 

 The tamarind, from the dew 

 Sheaths its young fruit, yet green." 



The East India tamarinds are preserved without sugar. 

 and therefore they are the best for medicinal use. About 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



forty tons of tamarinds are annually imported into Great 

 Britain. ^Z?6. Ent. Know. 



ANECDOTE OF A CAT. 



A favourite cat, that was accustomed from day to day 

 to take her station quietly at my elbow, on the writing 

 table, sometimes for hour after hour, whilst I was en- 

 gaged in study, became at length less constant in her at- 

 tendance, as she had a kitten to take care of. One morn- 

 ing she placed herself in the same spot, but seemed un- 

 quiet, and, instead of seating herself as usual, continued 

 to rub her furry sides against my hand and pen, as though 

 resolved to draw my attention, and make me leave off. As 

 soon as she had accomplished this point, she leaped down 

 on the carpet, and made towards the door, with a look of 

 great uneasiness. I opened the door for her, as she seem- 

 ed to desire, but, instead of going forward, she turned 

 round, and looked earnestly at me, as though she wished 

 mc to follow her, or had something to communicate. I 

 did not fully understand her meaning, and, being much 

 engaged at the same time, shut the door upon her, that 

 she might go where she liked. In less than an hour after- 

 wards, she had again found an entrance into the room, 

 and drawn close to me, but, instead of mounting the table, 

 and rubbing herself against my hand, as before, she was 

 now under the table, and continued to rub herself against 

 my feet, on moving which I struck them against a some- 

 thing which seemed to be in their way, and, on looking 

 down, beheld, with equal grief and astonishment, the dead 

 body of her little kitten, covered over vv-jth cinder dust, 

 and which I supposed had been alive and in good health. 

 I now entered into the entire train of this afflicted cat's 

 feelings. She had suddenly lost the nursling she doatcd 

 on, and was resolved to make me acquainted with it — as- 

 suredly that I might know her grief, and probably also 

 tliat I might inquire into the cause, and, finding me too 

 dull to understand her expressive motioning that I would 

 follow her to the cinder heap on which the dead kitten 

 had been thrown, she took the great labour of bringing it 

 to me herself, from the area on the basement floor, and 

 up a whole flight of stairs, and laid it at my feet. I took 

 up the kitten in my hand, the cat still following me, made 

 inquiry into the cause of its death, which I found, upon 

 summoning the servants, to have been an accident, in 

 which no one was much to blame; and the yearning mo- 

 ther having thus obtained her object, and gotten lior mas- 

 ter to enter into her cause, and divide her sorrows with 

 her, gradually took comfort, and resumed her former sta- 

 tion by my side. — Good's Book of Nature. 



A TAME PANTHER. 



The following interesting notices are from the pen of 

 Mr. Bowdich, and prove that the Panther, notwithstand- 

 ing all that has been said of his untameable disposition, 

 is nevertheless as capable of domestication as any of his 

 congeners: — 



"This Panther and another were found, when very 

 young, in the forest, apparently deserted by their mother. 

 They were taken to the king of Ashantee, in whose 

 palace they lived several weeks, when my hero, being 

 much larger than his companion, suffocated him in a fit of 

 romping, and was then sent to Mr. Hutchison, the resi- 

 dent left by Mr. Bowdich at Coomassie. This gentle- 

 man, observing that the animal was very docile, took 

 pains to tame him, and in a great measure succeeded. 

 When he was about a year old, Mr. Hutchison returned 

 to Cape Coast, and had him led through the country by a 

 chain, occasionally letting him loose when eating was 

 going forward, when he would sit by his master's side, 

 and receive his share with comparative gentleness. Once 

 or twice he purloined a fowl, but easily gave it up to Mr. 

 Hutchison, on being allowed a portion of something else. 

 The day of his arrival he was placed in a small court, lead- 

 ing to the private rooms of the governor, and, after din- 

 ner, was led by a thin cord into the room, where he re- 

 ceived our salutations with some degree of roughness, but 

 with perfect good humour. On the least encouragement, 

 he laid his paws upon our shoulders, rubbed his head upon 

 us, and, his teeth and claws having been filed, there was 

 no danger of tearing our clothes. He was kept in the 

 above court for a week or two, and evinced no ferocity, 

 except when one of the servants tried to pull his food 

 from him: he then caught the offender by the leg, and tore 

 out a piece of flesh, but he never seemed to owe him any 

 ill will afterwards. He one morning broke his cord; and, 

 the cry being given, the castle gates were shut, and a 

 chase commenced. After leading his pursuers two or 

 three times round the ramparts, and knocking over a few 

 children, by bouncing against them, he suffered himself to 

 be caught, and led quietly back to his quarters, under one 

 of the guns of the fortress. 



" By degrees, the fear of him subsided, and, orders 

 having been given to the sentinels to prevent his escape 

 through the gates, he was left at liberty to go where he 

 pleased, and a boy was appointed to prevent him from in- 

 truding into the apartments of the officers. His keeper, 

 however, geneially passed his watch in sleeping: and Sai, 

 as the Pantiier was called, after the royal giver, roamed 

 at large. On one occasion he found his servant sitting on 

 the step of the door, upright, but fast asleep, when he 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



217 



lifted his paw, gave him a blow on the side of the head, 

 which laid him flat, and then stood wagging his tail, as if 

 enjoying the mischief he had committed. He became ex- 

 ceedingly attached to the governor, and followed him 

 every where like a dog. His favourite station was at a 

 window of the sitting-room, which overlooked the whole 

 town; there, standing on his hind legs, his fore paws rest- 

 ing on the ledge of the window, and his chin laid between 

 them, he appeared to amuse himself with what was pass- 

 ing beneatii. The children also stood with him at the 

 window; and one day, finding his presence an encum- 

 brance, and that they could not get their chairs close, they 

 used their united eflbrtsto pull him down by the tail. He 

 one morning missed the governor, who was settling a dis- 

 pute in the hall, and who, being surrounded by black 

 people, was hidden from the view of his favourite. Sa'i 

 wandered, with a dejected look, to various parts of the 

 fortress in search of him; and, while absent on this errand, 

 the audience ceased, the governor returned to his private 

 rooms, and seated himself at a table to write. Presently 

 he heard a heavy step coming up the stairs, and, raising 

 his ej-es to the open door, he beheld Sa'i. At that moment 

 he gave himself up for lost, for Sa'i immediately sprang 

 from the door on to his neck. Instead, however, of de- 

 vouring him, he laid his head close to the governor's, rub- 

 bed his cheek upon liis shoulder, wagged his tail, and 

 tried to evince his happiness. Occasionally, however, 

 the Panther caused a little alarm to the other inmates of 

 the castle, and the poor woman who swept the floors, or, 

 to speak technically, the p7'a-pra woman, was made ill 

 by her fright. She was one day sweeping the boards of 

 the great hall with a short bioom, and in an attitude near- 

 ly approaching to all-fours, and Sai, who was hidden under 

 one of the sofas, suddenly leaped upon her back, where 

 he stood in triumph. She screamed so violently as to 

 summon the other servants, but they, seeing the Panther, 

 as they thought, in the act of swallowing her, one and all 

 scampered off as quickly as possible; nor was she releas- 

 ed, till the governor, who heard the noise, came to her 

 assistance. Strangers were naturally uncomfortable when 

 thej' saw so powerful a beast at perfect liberty, and manj' 

 were the ridiculous scenes which took place, they not 

 liking to own their alarm, yet perfectly unable to retain 

 their composure in his presence. 



" This interesting animal was well fed twice every day, 

 but never given any tiling with life in it. He stood about 

 two feet high, and was of a dark yellow colour, thickly 

 spotted with black rosettes; and, from the good feeding 

 and the care taken to clean him, his skin shone like silk. 

 The expression of his countenance was very animated and 

 good-tempered, and he was particularly gentle to chil- 



dren; he would lie down on the mats by their side when 

 they slept; and even the infant shared his caresses, and 

 remained unhurt. During the period of his residence at 

 Cape Coast, I was much occupied by making arrange- 

 ments for my departure from Africa, but generally visit- 

 ed my future companion every day, and we, in conse- 

 quence, became great friends before we sailed. He was 

 conveyed on board the vessel in a large wooden cage, 

 thickly barred in front with iron. Even this confinement 

 was not deemed a suflicient protection by the canoe men, 

 who were so alarmed at taking him from the shore to the 

 vessel, that, in their confusion, they dropped cage and all 

 into the sea. For a few minutes I gave up m)' poor Pan- 

 ther as lost, but some sailors jumped into a boat belonging 

 to the vessel, and dragged him out in safet}^. The beast 

 himself seemed completely subdued by his ducking, and, 

 as no one dared to open the cage to dry it, he rolled him- 

 self up in one corner, nor roused himself till after an in- 

 terval of some days, when he recognized my voice. When 

 I first spoke, he raised his head, held it on one side, then 

 on the other, to listen; and when I came fully into his 

 view, he jumped on his legs, and appeared frantic; he 

 rolled himself over and over, he howled, he opened his 

 enormous jaws and cried, and seemed as if he would have 

 torn his cage to pieces. However, as his violence sub- 

 sided, he contented himself with thrusting his paws and 

 nose through the bars of the cage, to receive my caresses. 

 I suspect that he suffered from sea sickness, as he had ap- 

 parently loathed all food; but, after this period, he ate 

 every thing that was given to him. 



" The greatest treat I could bestow upon my favourite 

 was lavender water. Mr. Hutchison had told me that, on 

 the way from Ashantee, he drew a scented handkerchief 

 from his pocket, ^vhich was immediately seized on by the 

 Panther, who reduced it to atoms; nor could he venture 

 to open a bottle of perfume when the animal was near, he 

 was so eager to enjoy it. I indulged him twice a week, 

 by raakinga cup ofstiff paper, pouring a littlelavender water 

 into it, and giving it to him through the bars of his cage: 

 he would drag it to him with great eagerness, roll him- 

 self over it, nor rest till the smell had evaporated. By 

 this I taught him to put out his paws without showing his 

 nails, always refusing the lavender water till he had drawn 

 them back again; and, in a short time, he never, on an}- 

 occasion, protruded his claws when offering me his 

 paw. 



"We lay eight weeks in the river Gaboon, where he 

 had plenty of excellent food, but was never sufl^ered to 

 leave his cage, on account of the deck being always filled 

 with black strangers, to whom he had a very decided aver- 

 sion, although he was perfectly reconciled to white people. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



His indignation, however, was constantly excited by the 

 pigs, when they were suffered to run past his cage; and the 

 sight of one of the monkeys put him in complete fury. 

 While at anchorin the before mentioned river, an ourang- 

 outang, [Simia Scityrus) was brought for sale, and lived 

 three days on board; and I shall never forget the uncon- 

 trollable rage of the one, or the agony of the other, at 

 this meeting. The ourang was about three feet high, and 

 very powerful in proportion to his size; so that when 

 he fled, with extraordinary rapidity, from the Panther to 

 the farther end of the deck, neither men nor things re- 

 mained upright when they opposed his progress: there he 

 took refuge in a sail, and, although generally obedient to 

 the voice of his master, force was necessary to make him 

 (juit the shelter of its folds. As to the Panther, his back 

 rose in an arch, his tail was elevated and perfectly stiff, 

 his eyes flashed, and, as he howled, he showed his huge 

 teeth; then, as if forgetting the bars before him, he tried 

 to spring on the ourang, to tear him to atoms. It was long 

 before he recovered his tranquillity; day and night he 

 appeared to be on the listen; and the approach of a large 

 monkey we had on board, or the intrusion of a black 

 man, brought a return of his agitation. 



"We at length sailed for England, with an ample sup- 

 ply of provisions; but, unhappily, we were boarded by 

 pirates during the voyage, and nearly reduced to starva- 

 tion. My Panther must have perished, had it not been for 

 a collection of more than three hundred parrots with which 

 we sailed from the river, and which died very fast while 

 we were in the north-west trades. Sai's allowance was 

 one per diem, but this was so scanty a pittance that he be- 

 came ravenous, and had no patience to pick all the feathers 

 off before he commenced his meal. The consequence 

 was, that he became very ill, and refused even this small 

 quantity of food. Those around tried to persuade me 

 that he suffered from the colder climate; but his dry nose 

 and paws convinced me that he was feverish, and I had 

 him taken out of his cage; when, instead of jumpingabout 

 and enjoying his liberty, he lay down, and rested his 

 head upon my feet. I then made him three pills, each 

 containing two grains of caloniel. The boy who had 

 the charge of him, and who was much attached to him, 

 held his jaws open, and I pushed the medicine down his 

 throat. Early the next morning I went to visit my pa- 

 tient, and found his guard sleeping in the cage with him; 

 and having administered a farther dose to the invalid, I 

 had the satisfaction of seeing him perfectly cured by the 

 evening. On the arrivfd of the vessel in the London 

 Docks, Sai was taken ashore, and presented to the Duchess 

 of York, who placed him in Exeter Change, to be taken 

 care of, till she herself went to Oatlands. He remained 



there for some weeks, and was suffered to roam about the 

 greater part of the day without any restraint. On the 

 morning previous to the Duchess' departure from 

 town, she went to visit her new pet, played with him, 

 and admired his healthy appearance and gentledeportment. 

 In the evening, when her Royal Highness' coachman went 

 to take him away, he was dead." 



THE REIN DEER. 



The adult male of this species, in a wild state, is the 

 size of a stag, or about four and a half to five feet high; 

 but the female is fully less than the hind. It is the only- 

 species of the genus which has been completely domesti- 

 cated, and that is steadily employed in the service of man. 

 It is found in most of the northern countries of Europe, 

 Asia, and America. The colour is of a dusky brown above, 

 and white beneath. The space between the eyes is black. 

 The hair on the lower part of the neck is much longer 

 than on any other place. The hoofs are large, long, and 

 black. The female of this species has horns, as well as 

 the male; but those of thelalteraremuch the largest. These 

 are long, slender, branched, and upright, furnished with 

 brown antlers with widely expanded and palmated tips, 

 directed forward. 



The figure of the Rein Deer is rather heavy, when com- 

 pared with other species. The neck is short, and the 

 head carried straight forward, giving the animal a dull 

 appearance. The females produce, in May, two fawns at 

 at a birth. 



The Rein Deers swim with great facility, and are so 

 buoyant, as to keep half of the back above water; and 

 the great size of their feet enables them to make rapid 

 way across even the strongest currents. They defend 

 themselves with great courage, and kick furiously with 

 their hind feet, when attacked by the wolf, seldom failing 

 to repel a single one. 



To the poor Laplanders, the Rein Deer is a substitute 

 for the horse and cow, goat and sheep. They make cheese 

 of its milk; feed on its flesh; and clothe themselves with 

 its skin. They make its tendons into bow-strings; and, 

 when split, use them as a coarse kind of thread. They 

 boil their horns into glue, and make their bones into 

 spoons; and, in winter, the Rein Deer supplies the place 

 of a horse, by drawing their sledges; and that even across 

 the snows, in which the breadth of their hoofs prevents 

 them from sinking. They run at great speed, performing 

 immense journeys. With two of them yoked in a sledge, 

 it is said the Laplander will travel upwards of a hundred 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS, 



249 



English miles in a day; or, according to their own way 

 of reclconing, they can thrice change the horizon in 

 tiventy-four hours — that is, they can three times pass the 

 most remote object which presents itself, at their setting 

 out, in these dreary wastes. 



The sledge is somewhat the shape of a boat, having a 

 back board, for the Laplander to lean against. Its bottom 

 is convex, and so constructed, that it requires considera- 

 ble experience to enable the traveller to maintain his equi- 

 librium. To this the Laplander ties himself; and ma- 

 nages the animals with great dexterity, by means of a stick 

 and the reins. Before he enters the sledge, he puts on 

 his gloves, rolls the reins round his right thumb, and 

 then seats himself, giving the reins a violent shake, when 

 the animals bound off with astonishing fleetness. Besides 

 the reins, in directing the course of the Deer, he uses his 

 voice. The Laplander lightens the tedium of his journey, 

 by chanting some wild love song. These often possess 

 much beauty, and breathe the native wildness of that rude 

 and uncivilized people. Several of these have been trans- 

 lated into English, and have attracted universal admira- 

 tion, for their simplicity. The following is a specimen 

 of one of these, from Consett's Tour in Lapland. It 

 affords a happy illustration of that consolation which con- 

 tentment brings, in any condition of life. 



The snows are dissolving on Tomao's rude side, 



And the ice of Lulhea flows down the dark tide : 



Thy dark stream, oh, Lulhea, flows freely away ! 



And the snow-drop unfolds her pale beauties to-day. 



Far ofi" the keen terrors of winter retire, 



And the North's dancing streamers relinquish their fire, 



The sun's genial beams swell the bud on the tree, 



And Enna chants forth her wild warblings with glee. 



The Rein Deer, unliarness'd, in freedom shall play, 



And safely o'er Odon's steep precipice stray; 



The wolf to the forest's recesses shall fly. 



And howl to the moon as she glides through the sky. 



Then haste, my fair Luali, oh ! haste to the grove. 



And pass the sweet season in rapture and love ; 



In youth let our bosoms in ecstacy glow, 



For the winter of life ne'er a transport can know. 



It may seem difficult to account for the mode by which 

 these people direct their course to their destination, over 

 a country which presents a uniform surface of snow and 

 ice — and this, even during the night. It is to the Rein 

 Deer they trust their lives ; and accidents are said to be of 

 rare occurrence. 



The Rein Deer feeds on the Lichen rangiferinus, and 

 the Lichen Islandicus, the buds of coniferous evergreens, 

 and other arctic plants. 



It is singular, that this animal inhabits a very limited 

 Rrf 



physical range, and cannot exist beyond these precincts. 

 Cuvier, after a laborious investigation of these limits, has 

 proved, that it never extended farther north than the 

 northern boundary of Poland, nor farther south than the 

 Baltic. An attempt to naturalize this species in Great 

 Britain was made in 1S23, but failed. In the autumn of 

 that year, a Norwegian, with five Deer, arrived in Eng- 

 land, which were conveyed to the seat of a gentleman in 

 Worcestershire. There they remained during the winter; 

 and were fed with the Lichen rangiferinus. They con- 

 tinuedhealthyuntilthefollowing April, when they werere- 

 moved to Clee Hill, on thehighestpartof which that lichen 

 grows in great abundance; but before winter they had all 

 died. The same attempt was made in Ireland; but with no 

 better success. The Rein Deer is found wild in the Uralian 

 mountains, and in Siberia. — Brown'' s Anec. of Quad. 



SNOW STORM. 



[There is something exceedingly graphic and interesting in the fol- 

 lowing description of a snow storm in Scotland, by the Ettrick Shep- 

 herd, and it is well calculated to give an impressive idea of the power 

 of nature in one of her most magnificent aspects.] 



Of all the storms that ever Scotland witnessed, or I 

 hope ever will again behold, there is none of them that can 

 oncebecompared with the memorable 24th of January, 1794, 

 which fell with such peculiar violence on thatdivisionof the 

 south of Scotland that lies between Crawford-muir and the 

 border. In that bounds there were seventeen shepherds pe- 

 rished, and upwards of thirty carried home insensible, who 

 afterwards recovered; but the number of sheep that were 

 lost far outwent any possibility of calculation. One farmer 

 alone, lost seventy-two scores for his own share — and 

 many others, in the same quarter, from thirty to forty 

 scores each. Whole flocks were overwhelmed with 

 snow, and no one ever knew where they were till the 

 snow was dissolved, that they were all found dead. I myself 

 witnessed one particular instance of this on the farm of Tliick- 

 side; there were twelve scores of excellent ewes, all one 

 age, that were missing there all the time that the snow lay, 

 which was only a week, and no tracesof them could befound; 

 when the snow went away, they were discovered all lying 

 dead, with their heads one way, as if a flock of sheep had 

 dropped dead going from the washing. INIanj- hundreds were 

 driven into waters, burns, and lakes, by the violence of the 

 storm, where they were buried or frozen up, and these the 

 flood carried away, so that they were never seen or found 

 by the owners at all. The following anecdote somewhat 

 illustrates the confusion and devastation that it bred in the 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



country. The greater part of the rivers on which the 

 storm was most deadly, run into the Solway Frith, on 

 which there is a place called the Beds ofEsk, where the 

 tide throws out, and leaves whatsoever is carried into it 

 by the rivers. When the flood after the storm subsided, 

 there were found on that place, and the shores adjacent, 

 1840 sheep, nine black cattle, three horses, two men, one 

 woman, forty-five dogs, and one hundred and eighty 

 hares, beside a number of meaner animals. 



To relate all the particular scenes of distress that occur- 

 red during this tremendous hurricane is impossible — a vo- 

 lume would not contain them. I shall, therefore, in order 

 to give a true picture of the storm, merely relate what I 

 saw, and shall in nothing exaggerate. But before doing 

 this, I must mention a circumstance, curious in its nature, 

 and connected with others that afterwards occurred. 



Sometime previous to that, a few young shepherds, (of 

 whom I was one, and the youngest, though not the least 

 ambitious of the number,) had formed themselves into a 

 sort of literary society, that met periodically, at one or 

 other of the houses of its members, where each read an 

 essay on a subject previously given out; and after that, 

 every essay was minutely investigated and criticised. We 

 iTiet in the evening, and continued our important discus- 

 sions all night. Friday, the 23d of January, was the day 

 appointed for one of these meetings, and it was to be held 

 at Entertrony, a wild and remote shieling, at the very 

 sources of the Ettrick, and now occupied by my own bro- 

 ther. I had the honour of having been named as preses — 

 so, leaving the charge of my flock with my master, off I 

 set from Blackhouse, on Thursday, a very ill day, with a 

 flaming bombastical essay in my pocket, and my tongue 

 trained to many wise and profound remarks, to attend this 

 extraordinary meeting, though the place lay at the distance 

 of twenty miles, over the wildest hills in the kingdom, 

 and the time the depth of winter. I remained that night 

 with my parents at Ettrick-house, and next day again set 

 out on my journey. I had not, however, proceeded far, 

 before I perceived, or thought I perceived, symptoms of 

 an approaching storm, and that of no ordinary nature. I 

 remember the day well: the wind, which was rough on 

 the preceding day, had subsided into a dead calm; there 

 was a slight fall of snow, which descended in small, thin 

 flakes, that seemed to hover and reel in the air, as if un- 

 certain whether to go upward or downward — the hills 

 were covered down to the middle in deep folds of rime, 

 or frost-fog — in the doughs that was dark, dense, and 

 seemed as if it were heaped and crushed together — but on 

 the brows of the hills it had a pale and fleecy appearance, 

 and, altogether, I never beheld a day of such gloomy as- 

 pect. A thought now began to intrude itself on me, 



though I strove all that I could to get quit of it, that it 

 would be a wise course in me to return home to my sheep. 

 Inclination urged me on, and I tried to bring reason to her 

 aid, by saying to myself, " I have no reason in the world 

 to be afraid of my sheep, my master took the charge of 

 them cheerfully, there is not a better shepherd in the king- 

 dom, and I cannot doubt his concern in having them 

 right." All would not do; I stood still and contem- 

 plated the da)', and the more closely I examined it, the 

 more was I impressed that some mischief was a brewing; 

 so, with a heavy heart, I turned on my heel, and made 

 the best of my way back the road I came; my elaborate 

 essay, and all my wise observations, had come to no- 

 thing. 



On my way home, I called at a place named the Hope- 

 house, to see a maternal uncle, whom I loved; he was 

 angry when he saw me, and said it was not like a prudent 

 lad to be running up and down the country in such wea- 

 ther, and at such a season; and urged me to make haste 

 home, for it would be a drift before the morn. He ac- 

 companied me to the top of the height called the Black 

 Gate-head, and on parting, he shook his head, and said, 

 " Ah! it is a dangerous looking day! In troth I'm amaist 

 fear'd to look at it." I said I would not mind it, if any 

 one knew from what quarter the storm would arise; but 

 we might, in all likelihood, gather our sheep to the place 

 where they would be most exposed to danger. He bade 

 me keep a good look out all the way home, and wherever 

 I observed the first opening through the rime, to be as- 

 sured the wind would rise directly from that point. I did 

 as he desired me, but the clouds continued close set all 

 around, till the fall of evening; and as the snow had been 

 accumulating all day, so as to render walking very un- 

 furthersome, it was that time before I reached home. The 

 first thing I did was to go to my master and inquire where 

 he had left my sheep — he told me — but though I had al- 

 ways the most perfect confidence in his experience, I 

 was not pleased with what he had done — he had left a 

 part of them far too high out on the hills, and the rest 

 were not where I wanted them, and I told him so: he 

 said he had done all for the best, but if there appeared to 

 be any danger, if I would call him up in the morning, he 

 would assist me. We had two beautiful servant girls, 

 and with them I sat chattering till past eleven o'clock, 

 and then I went down to the old tower. What could 

 have taken me to that ruinous habitation of the Black 

 Danglasses at that untimeous hour, I cannot recollect, but 

 it certainly must have been from a supposition that one of 

 the girls would follow me, or else that I would see a 

 hare — both very unlikely events to have taken place on 

 such a night. However, certain it is, that there I was at 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



laiidnight, and it was while standing on the top of the 

 staircase turret, that I first beheld a bright bore through 

 th clouds, toward the north, which reminded me of my 

 uncle's apoplithegm. But at the same time a smart thaw 

 had commenced, and the breeze seemed to be rising from 

 the south, so that I laughed in my heart at his sage rule, 

 and accounted it quite absurd. Short was tlie time till 

 awful experience told me how true it was. 



I then went to my bed in the byre loft, where I slept 

 with a neighbour shepherd, named Borthwick; but though 

 fatigued with walking through the snow, I could not close 

 an eye, so that I heard the first burst of the storm, which 

 commenced between one and two, with a fury that no one 

 can conceive who does not remember of it. Besides, the 

 place where I lived being exposed to two or three gather- 

 ed winds, as they are called by shepherds, the storm raged 

 there with redoubled ferocity. It began all at once, with 

 such a tremendous roar, that I imagined it was a peal of 

 thunder, until I felt the house trembling to its foundation. 

 In a few minutes I went and thrust my naked arm through 

 a hole in the roof, in order, if possible, to ascertain what 

 was going on without, for not a ray of light could I see. 

 I could not then, nor can I yet, express my astonishment. 

 So completely was the air overloaded with falling and 

 driving snow, that but for the force of the wind, I felt as 

 if I had thrust my arm into a wreath of snow. I deemed 

 it a judgment sent from heaven upon us, and lay down 

 again in my bed, trembling with agitation. I lay still for 

 about an hour, in hopes that it might prove only a tempo- 

 rary hurricane; but, hearing no abatement of its fury, I 

 awakened Borthwick, and bade him get up, for it was come 

 on such a night or morning, as never blew from the hea- 

 vens. He was not long in obeying, for as soon as he heard 

 the turmoil, he started from his bed, and in one minute, 

 throwing on his clothes, he hasted down the ladder, and 

 opened the door, where he stood for a good while, utter- 

 ing exclamations of astonishment. The door where he 

 stood was not above fourteen yards from the door of the 

 dwelling house, but a wreath was already amassed between 

 them, as high as the walls of the house — and in trying to 

 get round or through this, Borthwick lost himself, and 

 could neither find the house nor his way back to the byre, 

 and about six minutes after, I heard him calling my name, 

 in a shrill, desperate tone of voice, at which I could not 

 refrain from laughing immoderately, notwithstanding the 

 dismal prospect that lay before us; for I heard, from his 

 cries, where he was. He-had tried to make his way over 

 the top of a large dunghill, but going to the wrong side, 

 had fallen over, and wrestled long among snow, quite over 

 the head. I did not think proper to move to his assistance, 

 but lay still, and shortly after, heard him shouting at the 



kitchen door for instant admittance; still I kept my bed 

 for about three quarters of an hour longer; and then, on 

 reaching the house with much difficulty, found our master, 

 the ploughman, Borthwick, and the two servant maids, 

 sitting round the kitchen flre with looks of dismay, I may 

 almost say despair. We all agreed at once, that the soon- 

 er we were able to reach the sheep the better chance we 

 had to save a remnant; and as there were eight hundred 

 excellent ewes, all in one lot, but a long way distant, and 

 the most valuable lot of any on the farm, we resolved to 

 make a bold effort to reach them. Our master made fami- 

 ly worship, a duty he never neglected; but that morning, 

 the manner in which we manifested our trust and confi- 

 dence in heaven, was particularly affecting. We took our 

 breakfast — stuffed our pockets with bread and cheese — 

 sewed our plaids around us — tied down our hats with nap- 

 kins coming below our chins — and each taking a strong 

 staff in his hand, we set out on the attempt. 



No sooner was the door closed behind us than we lost 

 sight of each other — seeing there was none — it was im- 

 possible for a man to see his hand held up before him, 

 and it was still two hours till day. We had no means of 

 keeping together but by following to one another's voices, 

 nor of working our way save by groping with our staves 

 before us. It soon appeared to me a hopeless concern, for 

 ere ever we got clear of the houses and haystacks, we had 

 to roll ourselves over two or three wreaths which it was 

 impossible to wade through ; and all the while the wind and 

 drift were so violent, that every three or four minutes we 

 were obliged to hold our faces down between our knees, to 

 recover our breath. 



We soon got into an eddying wind that was altogether 

 insufferable,and atthesame time we were struggling among 

 snow so deep, that our progress in the way we purposed 

 going was indeed very equivocal, for we had, by this 

 time, lost all idea of east, west, north, or south. Still we 

 were as busy as men determined on a business could be, 

 and persevered on we knew not whither, sometimes roll- 

 ing over the snow, and sometimes weltering in it to the 

 chin. The following instance of our successful exertions 

 marks our progress to a tittle. There was an inclosure 

 around the house to the westward, which we denomi- 

 nated the park, as is customary in Scotland. When we 

 went away, we calculated that it was two hours until day — 

 the park did not extend above 300 yards — and we were 

 still engaged in that park when day -light appeared. 



When we got free of the park, we also got free of the 

 eddy of the wind — it was now straight in our faces — we 

 went in a line before each other, and changed places every 

 three or four minutes, and at length, after great fatigue, we 

 reached a long ridge of a hill, where the snow was thin- 




252 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



ner, having been blown off it by the force of the wind, and 

 by this time we had hopes of reaching within a short space 

 of the ewes, which were still a mile and a half distant. 

 Our master had taken the lead; I was next him, and soon 

 began to suspect, from the depth of the snow, that he was 

 leading us quite wrong, but as we always trusted impli- 

 citly to him that was foremost for the time, I said nothing 

 for a good while, until satisfied that we were going in a 

 direction very nearly right opposite to that we intended. 

 I then tried to expostulate with him, but he did not seem 

 to understand what I said, and, on getting a glimpse of his 

 countenance, I perceived that it was quite altered. Not 

 to alarm the others, nor even himself, I said I was becom- 

 ing terribly fatigued, and proposed that we should lean on 

 the snow and take each a mouthful of whiskey, (for I had 

 brought a small bottle in my pocket for fear of the worst,) 

 and a bite of bread and cheese. This was unanimously 

 agreed to, and I noted that he swallowed the spirits rather 

 eagerly, a thing not usual with him, and when he tried to 

 eat, it was long before he could swallow any thing. I was 

 convinced that he would fail altogether, but, as it would 

 have been easier to have got him to the shepherd's house 

 before than liome again, I made no proposal for him tore- 

 turn. On the contrary, I said if they would trust them- 

 selves entirely to me, I would engage to lead them to the 

 ewes without going a foot out of the way — the other two 

 agreed to it, and acknowledged that they knew not where 

 they were, but he never opened his mouth, nor did he 

 speak a word for two hours thereafter. It had only been 

 a temporary exhaustion, however; for after that he re- 

 covered, and wrought till night as well asany of us, though 

 he never could recollect a single circumstance that occur- 

 red during that part of our way, nor a word that was said, 

 nor of having got any refreshment whatever. 



At half an hour after ten, we reached the flock, and just 

 in time to save them; but before that, both Borthwickand 

 the ploughman had lost their hats, notwithstanding all their 

 precautions; and to impede us still farther, I went inad- 

 vertently over a precipice, and going down head foremost, 

 between the scaur and the snow, found it impossible to ex- 

 tricate myself; for the more I struggled, I went the deeper. 

 For all our troubles, I heard Borthwick above convulsed 

 with laughter; he thought he had got the affair of the dung- 

 hill paid back. By holding by one another, and letting 

 down a plaid to me, they hauled me up, but I was terribly 

 incommoded by snow that had got inside my clothes. 



The ewes were standing in a close body; one half of 

 them were covered over with snow to the depth of ten 

 feet, the rest were jammed against a brae. We knew not 

 what to do for spades to dig them out; but, to our agree- 

 able astonishment, when those before were removed, they 



had been so close pent together as to be all touching one 

 another, and they walked out from below the snow after 

 their neighbours in a body. If the snow-wreath had not 

 broke, and crumbled down upon a few that were hind- 

 most, we should have got them all out without putting a 

 hand to them. This was effecting a good deal more than 

 I or any of the party expected a few hours before; there 

 were 100 ewes in another place near by, but of these we 

 could only get out a very few, and lost all hopes of saving 

 the rest. 



It was now wearing towards mid-day, and there were 

 occasionally short intervals in ^vhich we could see about 

 us for perhaps a score of yards; but we got only one mo- 

 mentary glance of the hills around us all that day. I 

 grew quite impatient to be at my own charge, and leaving 

 the rest, I went away to them by myself, that is, I went 

 to the division that was left far out on the hills, while our 

 master and the ploughman volunteered to rescue those that 

 were down on the lower ground. I found mine in mise- 

 rable circumstances, but making all possible exertion, I got 

 out about one half of them, which I left in a place of safety, 

 and made towards home, for it was beginning to grow 

 dark, and the storm was again raging, without any miti- 

 gation, in all its darkness and deformity. I was not the 

 least afraid of losing my way, for I knew all the declivi- 

 ties of the hills so well, that I could have come home with 

 my eyes bound up, and, indeed, long ere I got home, they 

 were of no use to me. I was terrified for the water, 

 (Douglas Burn,) for in the morning it was flooded and 

 gorged up with snow in a dreadful manner, and I judged 

 that it would be quite impassable. At length I came to 

 a place where I thought the water should be, and fell a 

 boring and groping for it with my long staff. No, I 

 could find no water, and began to dread, that for all my 

 accuracy I had gone wrong. I was greatly astonished, 

 and, standing still to consider, I looked up toward heaven, 

 I shall not say for what cause, and to my utter amaze- 

 ment thought I beheld trees over my head flourishing 

 abroad over the whole sky. I never had seen such an op- 

 tical delusion before; it was so like enchantment, that I 

 knew not what to think, but dreaded that some extraor- 

 dinary thing was coming over me, and that I was de- 

 prived of my right senses. I remember I thought the 

 storm was a great judgment sent on us for our sins, and 

 that this strange phantasy was connected with it, an illu- 

 sion effected by evil spirits. I stood a good while in this 

 painful trance; at length, on making a bold exertion to 

 escape from the fairy vision, I came all at once in contact 

 with the old tower. Never in my life did I experience 

 such a relief; I was not only all at once freed from the 

 fairies, but from the dangers of the gorged river. I had 



-) 






AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



come over it on some mountain of snow, I knew not how 

 nor where, nor do I know to this day. So that, after all, 

 they were trees that I saw, and trees of no great magni- 

 tude neither; but their appearance to my eyes it is impos- 

 sible to describe. I thought they flourished abroad, not 

 for miles, but for hundreds of miles, to the utmost verge 

 of the visible heavens. Such a day and such a night may 

 the eye of a shepherd never again behold. 



[Shepherd's Calendar. 



PURPLE FINCH. 



FRINGILLA PUEPURE.i. 



[Plate XXII. Vol. 2. — on a branch of Sycamore.] 



Fringilla Purpurea, Gmel. Syst. i. 923. — Bouvreuil 

 violet de la Caroline, Buff. iv. 395. — Purple Finch, 

 Jlrct. Zool. II. Ao. 258. — Catesb. i. 41. — Lath. Syn. 

 III. 275, 39. — Crimson-headed Finch, Jirct. Zool. ii. 

 No. 257. — Latham, Syn. iii. 275, 39. — Hemp-bird, 

 Bartram, 291 — Fringilla Purpurea, Id. 291. — J. 

 Doughty's Collection. 



This is a winter bird of passage, coming to us in large 

 flocks from the north, in September and October, great 

 numbers remaining with us in Pennsylvania during the 

 whole winter, feeding on the seeds of the poplar, button- 

 wood, juniper, cedar; and on those of many rank weeds 

 that flourish in rich bottoms, and along the margin of 

 creeks. When the season is very severe they proceed to 

 the south, as far at least as Georgia, returning north early 

 in April. They now frequent the elm trees, feeding on 

 the slender but sweet covering of the flowers; and as soon 

 as the cherries put out their blossoms, feed almost exclu- 

 sively on the stamina of the flowers; afterwards the apple 

 blossoms are attacked in the same manner; and their de- 

 predations on these continue till they disappear, which is 

 usually about the 10th or middle of May. I have been 

 told that they sometimes breed in the northern parts of 

 New-York, but have never met with their nests. About 

 the middle of September I found these birds numerous on 

 Long Island, and round Newark, in New-Jersey. They 

 fly at a considerable height in the air, and their note is a 

 single chink, like that of the Rice-bird. They possess 

 great boldness and spirit, and when caught, bite violently, 

 and hang bj^ the bill from your hand, striking with great 

 fury; but they are soon reconciled to confinement, and in 

 a day or two are quite at home. I have kept a pair of 

 S s s 



these birds upwards of nine months, to observe their man- 

 ners. One was caught in a trap, the other was winged 

 with the gun; both are now as familiar as if brought up 

 from the nest by the hand, and seem to prefer hempseed 

 and cherry blossoms to all other kinds of food. Both male 

 and female, though not crested, are almost constantly in 

 the habit of erecting the feathers of the crown; they ap- 

 pear to be of a tyrannical and domineering disposition, 

 for they nearly killed an indigo-bird, and two or three 

 others that were occasionally placed with them, driving 

 them into a corner of the cage, standing on them and tear- 

 ing out their feathers, striking them on the head, munch- 

 ing their wings, &c. &c., till I was obliged to interfere; 

 and even if called to, the aggressor would only turn up a 

 malicious eye to me for a moment, and renew his out- 

 rage as before. They are a haa-dy, vigorous bird. In the 

 month of October, about the time of their first arrival, I shot 

 a male, rich in plumage, and plump in flesh, but which 

 wanted one leg, that had been taken off a little above the 

 knee; the wound had healed so completely, and was co- 

 vered with so thick a skin, that it seemed as though it had 

 been so for years. Whether this mutilation was occasion- 

 ed by a shot, or in party quarrels of its own, I could not 

 determine; but our invalid seemed to have used his stump 

 either in hopping or resting, for it had all the appearance 

 of having been brought in frequent contact with other 

 bodies harder than itself. 



This bird is a striking example of the truth of what has 

 been frequently repeated, that in many instances the same 

 bird has been more than once described by the same per- 

 son as a different species; for it is a fact which time will 

 establish, that the Crimson-headed Finch of Pennant and 

 Latham, the Purple Finch of the same and other natural- 

 ists, the Hemp-bird of Bartram, and the Fringilla rosea of 

 Pallas, are one and the same, viz: the Purple Finch, the 

 subject of the present article. 



The Purple Finch is six inches in length, and nine in 

 extent; head, neck, back, breast, rump, and tail coverts, 

 dark crimson, deepest on the head and chin, and lightest 

 on the lower part of the breast; the back is streaked with 

 dusky; the wings and tail are also dusky black, edged 

 with reddish; the latter a good deal forked; round the base 

 of the bill the recumbent feathers are of a light clay or 

 cream colour; belly and vent white; sides under the 

 wings streaked with dull reddish; legs a dirty purplish 

 flesh colour; bill short, strong, conical, and of a dusky 

 horn colour; iris dark hazle; the feathers covering the ears 

 are more dusky red than the other parts of the head. This 

 is the male, when arrived at its full colours. The female 

 is nearly of the same size, of a brown olive or flax colour, 

 streaked with dusky black; the head seamed with lateral 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



lines of whitish; above and below the hind part of the ear 

 feathers, are two streaks of white; the breast is whitish, 

 streaked with a light flax colour; tail and wings as in the 

 male, only both edged with dull brown, instead of red; 

 belly and vent white. This is also the colour of the 

 j'oung during the first, and to at least the end of the 

 second season, when the males begin to become lightly 

 yellowish, which gradually brightens to crimson; the 

 female alwaj^s retains nearly the same appearance. The 

 young male bird of the first year may be distinguished 

 from the female by the tail of the former being edged with 

 olive green; that of the latter with brown. A male of one 

 of these birds, which I kept for some time, changed in the 

 month of October, from red to greenish yellow, but died 

 before it recovered its former colour. — Wilson. 



PINE FINCH. 

 FRINGILLA FIN US. 



with two rows of dull white or cream colour; whole wing 

 quills, under the coverts, rich yellow, appearing even 

 when the wings are shut; rump and tail coverts yellowish, 

 streaked with dark brown; tail feathers rich yellow from 

 the roots half way to the tips, except the two middle ones, 

 which are blackish brown, slightly edged with yellow; 

 sides under the wings of a cream colour, with long streaks 

 of black; breast a light flaxen colour, with small streaks or 

 pointed spots of black; legs purplish brown; bill a dull 

 horn colour; eyes hazel. The female was scarcely distin- 

 guishable by its plumage from the male. The New- 

 York Siskin of Pennant appears to be only the yellow- 

 bird, {Fringilla tristis,) in his winter dress. 



This bird has a still greater resemblance to the Siskin 

 of Europe, {F. spmiis,) and may perhaps be the species 

 described by Turton, as the Black Mexican Siskin, which 

 he says is varied above with black and yellowish, and is 

 white beneath, and which is also said to sing finely. This 

 change from flaxen to yellow is observable in the Gold- 

 finch; and no other two birds of our country resemble 

 each other" more than these do in their winter dresses. — Ib~ 



[Plate XXII. Vol. 2.] 



J. Doughty's Collection. 



This little northern stranger visits us in the month of 

 November, and seeks the seeds of the black alder, on the 

 borders of swamps, creeks and rivulets. As the weather 

 becomes more severe, and the seeds of the Pi7ius cana- 

 densis are fully ripe, these birds collect in large flocks, and 

 take up their residence, almost exclusively, among these 

 trees. In the gardens of Bushhill, in the neighbour- 

 hood of Philadelphia, a flock of two or three hundred of 

 these birds have regularly wintered many years; where a 

 noble avenue of pine trees, and walks covered with fine 

 white gravel, furnish them with abundance through the 

 winter. Early in March they disappear, either to the 

 north, or to the pine woods that cover many lesser ranges 

 of the Alleghany. While here they are often so tame as 

 to allow you to walk within a few yards of the spot where 

 a whole flock of them are sitting. They flutter among 

 the branches, frequently hanging by the cones, and utter- 

 ing a note almost exactly like that of the goldfinch, (i^. 

 trisiis.) I have not a doubt but this bird appears in a 

 richer dress in summer in those places where he breeds as 

 he has so very great a resemblance to the bird above men- 

 tioned, with whose changes we are well acquainted. 



The length of this species is four inches, breadth eight 

 inches; upper part of the head, the neck and back, a dark 

 flaxen colour, streaked with black; wings black, marked 



INSTRUCTIONS TO YOUNG SPORTSMEN. 



No. 



My remarks in the present number will be confined to 

 woodcock and snipe shooting, this being also readily sought 

 after by the young sportsman, as these birds appear in 

 their proper seasons, in the neighbourhood almost of every 

 farm, town or city of the United States. 



The woodcock is a bird of very singular habits, and is, 

 perhaps, one of the most itinerant of the feathered tribe, 

 for it not only makes long journies over land, passing 

 from clime to clime in a single night, but is ever moving 

 throughout a neighbourhood in search of food, so soon as 

 darkness covers the earth. 



The sluggishness of this bird at times, when flushed by 

 the sportsman, may be attributed to its wanderings on the 

 preceding night, especially if it should have been a clear, 

 moonlight night. The indisposition, however, it mani- 

 fests to quit its hiding place, arises more from the painful 

 influence of the light on the vision; these operating 

 against the bird, make it a favourite object of pursuit by 

 the young sportsman, who, though unskilful in shooting 

 either snipe or partridges, is sometimes very successful 

 after woodcocks. 



In particular seasons of the year the woodcock is a most 

 delicious bird, and may justly vie with any other delicacy 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



for the platter; but system in shooting is so little regarded 

 in this country, that no season is considered propitious, 

 except that in which tlie rapacious shooter may fill his un- 

 satisfied game-bag. No respect is paid by many, even to 

 the period of incubation, when the bird, being so intent 

 either to its mate, or the performance of parental duties, 

 may be approached within a few feet, and thus become 

 the victim to an unfeeling destroyer. The bird, at this 

 time, if driven from the ground, will fly but a few yards 

 and settle again ; or if towards the close of day, will 

 ascend into the air, and after performing a few certain 

 flights, uttering some musical notes the whole time, will 

 descend within a few feet of the spot from which it sprang. 

 When on the ground, it has a note peculiar to itself, and 

 is never heard before twilight, but at all hours during the 

 night, and is very much like the sound produced by blow- 

 ing one of those small trumpets, with which most are ac- 

 quainted. The latter action of the bird is sure evidence 

 that the pairing time has arrived, and is performed most- 

 ly by the male bird, while the female is attending to her 

 more sacred rites. 



After the 1st of February, no woodcock should be kill- 

 ed, for in mild seasons they begin to pair and lay during 

 that month, and there are no birds which produce their 

 young so soon as these. In several instances, the author 

 has found by the middle of February the ovaria so large, 

 as to require but few more days to produce the perfect 

 egg. The young birds have also been found capable of 

 flying in the early part of April. There are other reasons 

 why they should not be killed so late in the season, and 

 these are, the poverty and unflavoured state of the flesh. 

 Woodcocks feed altogether on worms and insects, which, 

 being either destroyed or driven into the earth by rigor- 

 ous weather, little or no means are furnished for their 

 subsistence; hence, when they make their appearance to 

 the north in February, they have just commenced their 

 migrations from the soutli, and before the earth-worm, 

 (which is their favourite food,) can be obtained in suffi- 

 cient quantities to create fatness, incubation is progress- 

 ing, and of course the consequent poverty of the parent 

 bird succeeds. After this is experienced, they do not re- 

 cover from the effects until their progeny is reared, or 

 until autumn approaches; the old and young are alike 

 miserable, poor and covered with vermin. The fact then 

 may be established, that the only proper time for shoot- 

 ing woodcocks, is either in the fall, or, if you choose, 

 from September until the 1st of February. 



I would advise you not to hunt at the commencement 

 of the season; this, you know, generally commences in 

 July. In New-Jersey it is established by law on the 5th. 

 The above reasons alone should deter you from it, and if 



they are not sufficient, others may be adduced which 

 should satisfy you; these are, first, the successive hot 

 weather during the months of July and August; and again, 

 the impossibility of preserving longer than a few hours the 

 birds you may have killed. Shooting, if well followed, 

 is laborious work under the best circumstances; but, to 

 pursue woodcocks under a scorching sun, through all of 

 those diflerent places which are frequented by them, re- 

 quires effort and energy, which can only be sustained in 

 a cool and bracing atmosphere for any length of time, is 

 laborious and fatiguing beyond conception, and is often 

 productive of a fevered system, great lassitude, and fre- 

 quently sickness. At this period, too, your efforts are 

 seldom rewarded by a proportionable quantity of game, 

 and, that which you have procured, should you perse- 

 vere through the day in hunting, will, no doubt, be spoil- 

 ed and useless ere you get home. Should you, however, 

 after all, be disposed to pursue the sport during these 

 months, I would advise you to start very early in the 

 morning, and retire to some house, or shady retreat, about 

 eleven o'clock, where you should remain until three or 

 four o'clock in the afternoon. The interval, at any rate, 

 is an unpropitious time for shooting any description of 

 game, particularly woodcocks, as the influence of the light 

 and heat will drive them into the most shady and retired 

 parts of the swamps, or cause them to be two-fold more 

 tenacious of their resting places. The latter part of 

 the afternoon, especially towards the close of day, 

 is the best time for hunting. Should you then be beat- 

 ing a meadow in the vicinity of a swampy thicket, you 

 must approach the edges of the latter, where the birds are 

 most likely to be. 



In hunting woodcocks, you cannot beat the ground too 

 well; above all, proceed only at a very moderate rate, 

 pausing every few steps for a moment or two, which I 

 have found often causes the birds to spring, when con- 

 stant progress would tend to keep them quiet. During 

 these months, (July, August, and September,) the birds 

 are scattered over all parts of the northern country, unless 

 the season should be uncommonly dry. Woodcocks do 

 not like much water, and constant rains will drive them 

 from the low lands; but moist grounds of a loamy nature 

 are places of their most favourite resort. In meadows of 

 this bottom where cattle have been grazing, you will most- 

 ly find some of these birds. The grass in such places is 

 generally of sufficient height to aflbrd them shelter, while 

 the tracks and spots made bare by the trampling of the 

 cattle, enables them to penetrate the earth with their bills. 



Swamps or woods, v/ith bottoms also of this kind, espe- 

 cially if covered with alder bushes or maple trees, are 

 good places for hunting these birds; but into whatever 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



species of ground you enter, search well for the borings, 

 or, as some term them, " spikings" in the ground. These, 

 3-ou are aware, are small holes, like worm holes, or rather 

 of a triangular shape, sometimes in clusters, directed fre- 

 quently at the foot of a tuft of grass or tussock, and made 

 by the bird with its bill, while seeking for acorns beneath 

 the surface of the ground. The object of this is argued by 

 persons differently. Some say the bird lives by suction, 

 that is, by some nutritive substance drawn from the earth 

 by means of its bill; others, that the bird, being governed 

 by the sense of touch alone, drives its bill into the ground 

 and remains in that position until it feels the worm, when 

 it is drawn forth and eaten; each of these positions may be 

 partially correct; but my observation causes me to differ 

 from both. There is no doubt, the sense of touch, hear- 

 ing and sight, are all employed by the bird in the attain- 

 ment of its food; perhaps the two former more frequently. 

 The latter cannot avail, when the objects searched for by 

 the bird, are placed beneath the surface of the ground. 



The operation of boring, or spiking, is done by the bird, 

 by sticking its bill with all its strength into the mud suc- 

 cessively, and then a pause ensues for a few seconds, when 

 the same action is repeated; during this employment, the 

 bird half spreads its wings, and at every stroke of the bill, 

 gets up and also spreads its tail considerably; now, it is 

 evident, that the bird, by thus disturbing the ground, ex- 

 cites the earth worm to motion, which, perhaps, in its en- 

 deavours to escape, finds easier access to the holes made by 

 the bill, and instead of escaping, ascends to the surface of 

 the ground, and thus serves as a repast to the bird. The 

 woodcock is no doubt greatly governed by hearing, and 

 directs its efforts towards those parts where it hears the 

 worm perforating the ground. This opinion, Ithink,ismost 

 reasonable, as we, who are more imperfect in that sense 

 than many other animals, can hear insects boring various 

 substances, especially the bottom of a ship, which is per- 

 forated by myriads of the minutest insects; this accuracy 

 of hearing is one of the perfections, but not an absolutely 

 necessary part of our nature; but with the bird in question, 

 it becomes a necessary part of its nature, inasmuch as most 

 of its food is sought after in the darkness and stillness of 

 the night; and it appears to be endowed by Providence 

 with that particular quality as is suited to its circumstances 

 or habits. These borings indicate the presence of the 

 bird, and I would advise you to hunt every spot well, 

 when such occur. When you spring the bird in clear 

 ground, a little deliberation on your part will ensure you 

 a successful shot: for the bird is neither rapid in its flight, 

 nor strong on the wing, and a very slight wound will 

 bring it to the ground. Should a bird come towards you, 

 always suffer it to pass before you shoot. Should you 



spring a bird in a thicket, you will observe it will always 

 soar to the tops of the trees, unless the wood should be 

 open. In this case, you must wait until they have risen 

 to their highest point before you shoot, or you will pro- 

 bably miss your object. 



In the fall season, woodcocks are seldom seen in mea- 

 dows, or open land, except it should be newly cleared land 

 of wet bottom; but in maple swamps, and bush land, they 

 ma}' sometimes be found in abundance; at this period it is 

 truly a valuable bird, and a small number will compen- 

 sate for a day's hunt; the finest bag of game the writer 

 ever carried in one day, consisted of twenty-one wood- 

 cocks, killed in the early part of November, in a large 

 swamp, within ten miles of Philadelphia. I have heard 

 of some sportsmen killing four times as many in a single 

 day, in the early part of the season, that is in July; but I 

 would ask any epicure, whether my twenty-one birds 

 killed in November, were not more valuable than four 

 score killed in the summer. It is not the quantity, but 

 the condition of the game which makes them valuable. 

 In the latter instance, an unnecessary waste of life is occa- 

 sioned, for not one-fourth of the quantity is ever used, and 

 the satisfaction of bagging half a dozen of the splendid 

 November birds, is greater than killing two dozen in July. 

 Very small shot will kill these birds, say No. 9 or 10; 

 but as you may encounter partridges also, I would advise 

 you to use No. S in fall and winter, and in the summer. 

 No. 9. A woodcock is a very nerveless bird for its size 

 and appearance, although it sometimes happens, that when 

 struck by shot, it will fly a long distance before it falls, 

 and I have known them, even when mortally wounded, 

 to move and settle as if unhurt; but it rarely occurs, if 

 wounded, that it will ever take wing again; therefore, if 

 you suppose you have struck the bird, you should follow 

 its wake with caution, and you will stand a good chance 

 to recover it, if wounded, without the necessity of shoot- 

 ing again. I have no doubt many birds have been lost by 

 inattention to this point. 



Snipe shooting is somewhat different and more diffi- 

 cult, as the shooter must hunt through mud and water con- 

 tinually; it is, however, more free from other obstruc- 

 tions, but it requires much skill to be successful. Snipes 

 occur in abundance twice in the year; the first season is 

 from the middle of March to that of April, and again 

 during the latter part of October and beginning of Novem- 

 ber: these are the seasons for the middle states; but they 

 are found much sooner in the year, and later in the fall, 

 in the Carolinas and Georgia, and vice versa in the northern 

 states. In the first instance, they are migrating north, 

 and in the latter, returning south. They are poor on their 

 first arrival in both seasons, but a few days rest on good 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



feeding ground will fatten them. The best period in the 

 spring is at the time when the frogs are most noisy, and 

 the grass beginning to grow, and they may be hunted 

 either with or without dogs. If the weather is windy you 

 must hunt with the wind, and when you spring a snipe it 

 doubles immediately and flies by you, by which you will 

 have a cross shot. In this kind of weather they are not 

 so shy as in still weather, for in the latter they will fre- 

 quently rise out of reach, especially if hunted much. You 

 must at all times reserve your fire until the bird over- 

 comes its zigzag flight, which it usually does within 

 twenty yards; and by using fine shot, say No. 8 or 9, you 

 will hardly fail to kill at that distance. The fall birds, 

 however, I think are best; they are chiefly young, and of 

 course tender; but in the spring they are all old, and being 

 on their flight north to incubate, may be considered ra- 

 ther out of season. For further information on this head, 

 I will refer the reader to pages 87 and 97 of Vol. I. of 

 this work, under Woodcock and Snipe Shooting. 



With the exception of the wild pigeon, I think there is 

 no bird that describes so great a line of flight as the snipe; 

 it penetrates the north so far to incubate, that no one can 

 tell the precise place where it raises its young. " Who 

 has ever seen a snipe's nest?" is an unanswered ques- 

 tion often propounded, which leaves a mystery about 

 the parental duties of the bird. Snipes are scattered not 

 only over the whole continent of America, but through- 

 out Europe and other parts of the world, and wherever 

 there is civilization, they are objects of pursuit among 

 sportsmen. In March, this bird is very abundant in the 

 southern states of this country; the rice grounds are its 

 delight, and at that time numbers may be found there, 

 and it is not uncommon for those who shoot well, to kill 

 from fifty to an hundred in a single day. In the middle 

 and northern states they are not so plentiful, and the 

 sportsmen of these places are contented with the success 

 of bagging twenty or thirty in a day; there are parts, 

 however, in which, at times, they are found in num- 

 bers, but the uncertainty even of those places af- 

 fording much sport, renders it unnecessary now to point 

 them out. I. 



KANGUROO HUNTING. 



The Kangaroo is naturally a timid animal, and flies at 

 the approach of man. In New-Holland this creature is 

 hunted with greyhounds, and affords an agreeable pastime 

 to the settlers. It does not run like other quadrupeds, 

 but progresses by quick, repeated bounds, of more than 



TTt 



twenty feet, and no obstacle of nine or ten feet can ob- 

 struct its flight, for it will leap over any object of that 

 height with the greatest ease. It is hunted silenth", for it 

 has surprising quickness of hearing. When a dog finds 

 his game, the chase begins, the Kanguroo hopping, and 

 the dog running at his full speed; so that in a thickly- 

 wooded country like New-Holland they are quickly 

 out of view. 



The following account of Kanguroo hunting is taken 

 from Dawson's Present State of Jiustralia: — 



"The country on our right consisted of high hills, 

 thickly timbered; that on the left, on the opposite side of 

 the river, was a rich and thinly timbered country. A low 

 and fertile flat meadow there skirted the river, and at the 

 extremity of the flat the hills gradually arose with a gen- 

 tle slope, covered with verdure, upon which an immense 

 herd of Kanguroos was feeding. I crossed over with Maty 

 Bill and a brace of dogs, leaving the party to proceed on 

 their route. The moment we had crossed, the Kangu- 

 roos moved off. It is extremely curious to see the man- 

 ner in which a large herd of these animals jump before 

 you. It has often been asserted in England that they 

 make use of their tails to spring from you when they are 

 pursued: this is not correct. Their tails never touch the 

 ground when they move, except when they are on their 

 feed, or at play: and the faster they run or jump, the 

 higher they carry them. The m.ale Kanguroos were 

 called, by the natives, old men, 'wool man;' and the 

 females, young ladies, 'young liddy.' The males are 

 not so swift as the females; and the natives, in wet seasons, 

 occasionally run the former down when very large, their 

 weight causing them to sink in the wet ground, and thus 

 to become tired. They frequently, however, make up 

 for this disadvantage, by fierceness and cunning, when 

 attacked either by men or dogs; and it is exceedingly 

 difficult for a brace of the best dogs to kill a ' corbon wool 

 man.' When they can, they will hug a dog or a man as a 

 bear ^youkl do; and as they are armed with long sharp 

 claws, they not unfrequently let a dog's entrails out, or 

 otherwise lacerate him in the most dreadful manner, sit- 

 ting all the while on their haunches, hugging and scratch- 

 ing with determined furj-. Young dogs, that are fierce 

 and of good bottom, are almost sure to be sacrificed, if 

 allowed to run at these ' old men,' before they have ac- 

 quired some experience with smaller ones. After having 

 been once or twice wounded, they get pretty cunning; 

 and very few dogs will attack a ' wool man,' when they 

 are away from their keepers: their practice is to keep the 

 enemy at bay, by running round, and barking at him, till 

 some i ersons come up, when, either with large sticks or 

 pistols, and the aid of the dogs, he is finally despatched, 




258 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



but not without some difficulty and caution. A full-sized 

 < wool man' at bay, always sits on his haunches, and when 

 he rises to move forward, he stands four, or four and a 

 half feet high. In this manner, he will, when pressed, 

 meet a man, and hug and scratch him, if not to death, in 

 such a way as he does not soon forget it. When hard 

 pressed, and near to water, the Kanguroo always takes it; 

 if it be deep water, and the dogs follow him, one or the 

 other is almost sure to be drowned. If a single dog, the 

 Kanguroo is nearly certain to come off victorious, by 

 taking his assailant in his fore arms, and holding him 

 under water till he is dead; but, if he has two dogs op- 

 posed to him, he is not left at liberty to hold either of his 

 opponents long enough under water to drown him, and 

 he generally himself falls a sacrifice, after a long and hard 

 struggle. Notwithstanding the courage and ferocity of 

 the Kanguroo, when pressed, he is otherwise extreme- 

 ly timid, and more easily domesticated than any wild ani- 

 mal with which I am acquainted. The smaller ones are 

 frequently quite as swift as a hare; and I have sometimes 

 seen them outstrip the fleetest dogs. The kind of dog 

 used for coursing the Kanguroo is generally a cross between 

 the greyhound and the mastiff, or sheep-dog; but in a cli- 

 mate like New South Wales, they have, to use the com- 

 mon plirase, too much lumber about them. The true- 

 bred greyhound is the most useful dog; he has more wind; 

 he ascends the hill with more ease, and will run double 

 the number of courses in a day. He has more bottom in 

 running, and, if he has less ferocity when he comes up 

 with an ' old man,' so much the better, as he exposes him- 

 self the less, and lives to afford sport another day. The 

 strongest and most courageous dog can seldom conquer a 

 'wool man' alone, and not one in fifty will face him fair- 

 ly; the dog who has the temerity, is certain to be disa- 

 bled, if not killed. 



" The herd of Kanguroos we had thus come upon was 

 too numerous to allow of the dogs beinglet loose; but, as the 

 day's walk was drawing to a close, I had given Maty Bill 

 liberty to catch another Kanguroo, if we should fall in 

 with a single one. After moving up to the foot of a hill, 

 about a quarter of a mile from the river, my sable com- 

 panion eyed a ' corbon wool man,' as he called it, quietly 

 feeding at a distance, on the slope of the hill. His eyes 

 sparkled; he was all agitation: and he called out, 'Massa! 

 massa! You tee! you tee! wool man, wool man! corbon 

 wool man!' and off he ran with his dogs, till he was with- 

 in a fair distance, when he slipped their collars. I was 

 at this time on foot, and the whole of them, therefore, 

 were soon out of my sight. They had turned round the 

 bottom of the hill, in the direction of the river, and, as I 

 was following them down, I heard the dogs at bay, and 



the shrill call of 'coo-oo-oo,' from my companion, to 

 direct me to the spot; and, on turning the corner of the 

 hill, I met him, running, and calling as fast and as loud as 

 he could. As soon as he saw me, he stopped and called 

 out, — 'Massa! massa! make haste; dingo, (dogs,) have got 

 him in ribber. Many corbon wool man, all te same like 

 it bullock.' All this was said in a breath; and as I could 

 not pretend to run with him, I desired him to go as fast 

 as he could, and help the dogs, till I should arrive. When 

 I got up to the spot, he was in the middle of the river, 

 with about two feet depth of water, while the Kanguroo, 

 sitting upright on its haunches, was keeping both him and 

 the dogs at a respectful distance, and had laid bare the 

 windpipe of one of the dogs. Billy's Waddy was too 

 short to reach him without coming to close quarters, and 

 he knew better than to do that; at length he got behind 

 him, and with a blow on the head, he despatched him. 

 No huntsman could have shown more ardour in pursuit, 

 or more pleasure at the death of a fox, than did poor Maty 

 Bill upon this occasion. The Kanguroo was so heavy, 

 weighing about a hundred and fifty pounds, that he could 

 not lift him out of the water, and we were obliged to leave 

 him till our party arrived on the opposite side. A fresh 

 scene of pleasure ensued among the natives when they be- 

 came acquainted with our good fortune. They were now 

 all in the river, from whence they drew the ' wool man,' 

 and placed him on the back of one of the horses. I wished 

 to have left him, as we had already enough; but, as they 

 were eager beyond every thing to take him, I indulged 

 them. It appears that the natives have a great partiality 

 for the flesh of tlie old and large Kanguroos, just as we 

 have for mutton or venison of a proper age. I never could 

 discover any difference in flavour; but, if they can partake 

 of a ' wool man,' they refuse any other; and, when asked 

 the reason, they replied to me, ' Wool man' budge- 

 ree (food) fatter. Black fellow like him always more 

 better.' " 



ON THE SCENT OF BIRDS. 



A POWER is supposed to be exercised by birds in sup- 

 pressing that peculiar odour, which enables the dog to 

 scent them. Some of the occurrences of a day's sporting, 

 have gone very far towards satisfying me that the theory 

 is correct. 



I was out with a companion, each of us having a dog. 

 After traversing much ground, without success, our point- 

 ers nosed a covey of partridges, and we prepared for a 

 shot; one of the birds upon "the extreme left," received 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



259 



some of the contents of one of my barrels, and fell. I 

 marked the spot, and in my anxiety to bag the little vic- 

 tim, proceeded directly to the place; my imagination ra- 

 pidly sketching out the delight with which the fair lady, 

 for whose service I intended my prize, would contemplate 

 it about 9 o'clock, when nicely broiled, with plenty of 

 fresh butter, and a little black pepper. And here let me 

 hint to our young sportsmen, that (however much they 

 may retrench in the article of supper, f9r the ladies, when 

 they are managers of the public balls, and deem the fair 

 sex too ethereal to eat any thing but jellies and syllabubs,) 

 a present of a brace or two of game, is not unacceptable 

 to the most sylph-like of their female friends. The way 

 to tempt the appetite with a partridge, is to cook it as I 

 have described, and flanked by a slice of bread and small 

 plate of pickle, place it upon a waiter and send it in. But 

 to return from this digression. 



Although I marked the spot where my bird fell, I was 

 unable to find it. I called my companion, and we called 

 our dogs. For several minutes we kept the dogs "hie 

 finding" upon a space about ten feet square, where the 

 grass was long and silky, but at length they fairly gave it 

 up. But my companion being of a persevering nature, re- 

 fused to be bafBed, and at length found the crippled bird 

 hid in a tuft of grass. 



Some time afterwards, we came across another covey, 

 which was in a hedge. When the birds got up, we had 

 each of us a shot, although on different sides of the hedge, 

 and each one brought down his bird. I saw mine scram- 

 ble into the hedge, and warned by the previous occur- 

 rence of the difEculty of finding the game, I put the dogs 

 to work. They came to a stand. The bird was dead. 



I got over the fence to assist my companion, who com- 

 plained that he could not find his bird, although it was in 

 a field with very short grass. We searched; the dogs 

 smelt about, but in vain. After looking for a long time, 

 I proposed to give it uj), and was actually moving oflT, 

 when by a mere accident, we discovered the little sufferer 

 alive. The dogs must have passed nearly over him. 



, Having marked the spot where some of the birds put 

 down, we moved forward to give them another unwel- 

 come interruption. I had a fair shot, and finding my 

 bird continue to fly, exclaimed, " mark that bird — he will 

 not survive that shot." He put down in a marshy, reedy 

 place, at least a hundred yards oflf. We proceeded leisurely 

 onward, and found the bushes and briers pretty thick. 

 The dogs stood at once. Upon examination the bird was 

 dead. 



If it be said, that our dogs were good for nothing, and 

 therefore could not mark the crippled birds: I answer, they 

 found them when dead; and I confess that the occur- 



rences I have mentioned, could not well have been more 

 strongly to the point, if the ground had been selected by 

 way of experiment. In a field nearly open, they missed 

 a living bird; in a close bushy place, they instantly found 

 a dead one. — American Turf Register. 



SLEEP OF ANIMALS DURING WINTER. 



In the cold season nature being deprived of so many 

 creatures, which rendered it beautiful and animated, ap- 

 pears dead. Most of the animals that have disappeared 

 are buried in a profound sleep for the winter. This is 

 the case, not only with snails, but bugs, ants, flies, spiders, 

 caterpillars, frogs, lizards, and serpents. It is a mistake 

 to suppose that the ants lay up provisions for the winter. 

 The least cold numbs them, and they remain in that state 

 till the return of spring. Of what use then would their 

 stores be, since nature has prevented their requiring food 

 in winter? What they collect in summer, with so much 

 care, is not for their subsistence. They use it as mate- 

 rials to build their habitations. There are also many 

 birds, who, when food begins to fail, hide themselves 

 under ground, or in caves, to sleep all the winter. It is 

 at least asserted, that, before winter, the shore-swallows 

 hide under ground, the wall-swallows in the hollows of 

 trees, or old buildings, and the common swallows go to 

 the end of ponds, and fasten themselves in pairs to some 

 reeds, where they remain lifeless and motionless till they 

 are revived by the return of fine weather. There are 

 also some beasts, which bury themselves in the ground at 

 the end of summer. The most remarkable of them is the 

 mountain-rat, which generally makes its abode in the 

 Alps. Though it loves to be on the highest mountains, 

 in the region of ice and snow, it is sooner numbed with 

 cold than any other animal; for which reason, it retires 

 about the end of September, or the beginning of October, 

 into its subterraneous lodging, to remain there till April. 

 There is much art and precaution in the plan of their 

 winter-residence. It is a sort of gallery, the two branches 

 of which have each their particular opening, and both 

 terminate in a place without any, where they live. This 

 dwelling place is lined with moss and hay. They make 

 no provision for winter, as it would be useless to them. 

 Before they enter their winter quarters, they prepare 

 themselves each a bed of moss and hay; and then, having 

 well closed the entrance into their houses, they compose 

 themselves to sleep. As long as this state of insensibility 

 lasts, they absolutely live without eating. At the begin- 

 ning of winter, they are so fat, that some of them weigh 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



twenty pounds; but by degrees they fall away, and are 

 very thin in spring. When these rats are discovered in 

 their retreats, they are found rolled up round, and sunk 

 into the hay. During their torpid state, they are carried 

 away without being wakened, and they may even be kill- 

 ed without appearing to feel it. There is another sort of 

 rats, whose sleep is as long and as sound as these, and are 

 therefore called the sleepers. Bears eat prodigiously at 

 the beginning of winter, as if they meant to cat enough at 

 once for their whole lives. As they are naturally fat, and 

 arc excessively so at the end of autumn, this abundance 

 of fat enables them to bear their abstinence during their 

 winter's repose. The badgers prepare for their retreat 

 into their burrows in the same manner. Theinstinct of these, 

 and many other animals, teaches them thus to dispense 

 with food for a considerable time. — Sturm's Reflections. 



Why is it that every one is pleased with the common 

 Ivy? There is a charm about that plant which all feel, 

 butnone can tell why. Observe ithangingfrom the arch of 

 some old bridge, and consider the degree of interest it 

 gives to that object. The bridge itself may be beautiful- 

 ly situated; the stream passing through its arches clear 

 and copious; but still it is the Ivy which gives the finish 

 and picturesque effect. Mouldering towers, and castles, 

 and ruined cloisters, interest our feelings in a great de- 

 gree more or less by the circumstance of their being co- 

 vered or not by the Ivy. Precipices, which else would 

 exhibit only their naked barren walls, are clothed by it 

 in a rich and beautiful vesture. Old trees, whose trunks 

 it surrounds, assume a great variety of aspect; and, in- 

 deed, it is a most important agent in forming the beauty 

 and variety of rural landscape. It is also as useful as it 

 is beautiful; and among its uses I would include the very 

 thing of which I am now speaking, for I have no idea that 

 the forms and colours in nature please the eye by a sort 

 of chance. If I admire the Ivy clinging to and surmount- 

 ing some time-worn tower, and the various tints that 

 diversify the parts of the ruin not hidden by it, I can only 

 refer the pleasure I experience to the natural construction 

 of the human mind, which the Almighty has formed to 

 feel a pleasure in contemplating the external world around 

 it. Who is insensible to the beauties of nature at the 

 rising and setting of the summer's sun? Who can behold 

 the moon-beams reflected from some silent river, lake, or 

 sea, and not feel happy in the sight? None, I believe, in 

 cjrly life. When hardened in the ways of men — when 



the chief good pursued is the accumulation of wealth, the 

 acquisition of power, or the pursuit of pleasure, so call- 

 ed — then mankind lose a sense of the beauties of nature; 

 but never, perhaps, till tlien. A love for them is inhe- 

 rent in the mind, and almost always shows itself in youth; 

 and if cherished at that period by education, would sel- 

 dom be destroyed or become dormant in after life, as it 

 now so generally is. 



The Ivy is of vast advantage to the smaller birds, as it 

 affords them shelter in winter, and a retreat for building 

 their nests in spring and summer. It is in fructification 

 in October and November; and the sweet juice which its 

 flowers exude supports an infinity of insects in autumn, 

 while its berries are a store of nutriment for many birds 

 in the early spring. Along with other excellent observa- 

 tions relating to this plant, you will find the following in 

 the " Journal of a Naturalist:" — "Those two extreme 

 quarters of our year, autumn and spring, yield to most ani- 

 mals but a very slender and precarious supply of food; but 

 the Ivy in those periods saves many from want and death; 

 and the peculiar situations in which it prefers to flourish, 

 are essential to the preseryation of this supply, as in less 

 sheltered ones it would be destroyed. In the month of 

 October the Ivy blooms in profusion; and spreading over 

 the warm side of some neglected wall, or the sunny bark 

 of the broad ash on the bank, its flowers become a univer- 

 sal banquet to the insect race. The great black fly, and 

 its numerous tribe, with multitudes of small winged crea- 

 tures, resort to them; and there we see those beautiful 

 animals, the latest birth of the year, the admiral and 

 peacock butterflies, hanging with expanded wings like 

 open flowers themselves, enjoying the sunny gleam, and 

 feeding on the sweet liquor that distils from the nectary 

 of this plant. As this honey is produced in succession by 

 the early or latter expansion of the bud, it yields a con- 

 stant supply of food till the frosts of November destroy 

 the insects, or drive them to their winter retreats. Spring 

 arrives; and in the bitter months of March, April, and 

 even May, at times, when the wild products of the field 

 are nearly consumed, the Ivy ripens its berries, and then 

 almost entirely constitutes the food of the missel-thrush, 

 wood-pigeon, and some other birds; and now these shy 

 and wary birds, that commonly avoid the haunts of man, 

 constrained by hunger, will approach our dwellings to 

 feed upon the ripe berries of the Ivy. Now, too, the 

 blackbird and the thrush resort to its cover, to conceal 

 their nests. These early-building birds find little foliage 

 at this period sufficient to hide their habitations; and did 

 not the Ivy lend its aid to preserve them — and no great 

 number are preserved — perhaps few nests would be hid- 

 den from the young eyes that seek them. The early 




AND AIMERICxlN RURAL SPORTS. 



■361 



expansion of the catkins of the sallow, and others of the 

 willow tribe, whence the bee extracts its first food, and 

 the late blooming of the Ivy, are indispensable provisions 

 for the existence of many of the insect race." 



Now, only recollect how often you have seen the Ivy 

 in October, and the bloom of the sallow in April, without 

 ever asking }^ourself?r/zy the one flowered so late, and the 

 other so early. This is another example of the want of 

 attention paid to things with which people have always been 

 accustomed. Were a tulip to blow in the open air in No- 

 vember, or a white lily in April, the whole country round 

 would flock to the wonderful sight; but the thousand ex- 

 amples of Divine wisdom and arrangement that are daily 

 passing before our eyes are neglected or despised. 



Let us inquire, whether the tendency of Ivy to climb 

 is a wise provision. If one great use of the plant in the 

 economy of nature be the protection of animals, would the 

 purpose not have been equally answered by an evergreen 

 tree springing at once from the ground, and bearing 

 branches like other trees? No; because the shelter aSbrd- 

 ed by Ivy, growing as it does around trunks, and on walls 

 and rocks, is much more perfect and secure than could be 

 attained, perhaps, in any other way. But a question arises: 

 Does it injure those trees and walls to which it is at- 

 tached? This I cannot answer from my own observation; 

 but a very intelligent and observing friend has informed 

 me, that he is in the pi-actice of encouraging the growth of 

 Ivy on his trees, and that he has no fear of its injuring 

 them. This, however, is not proof sufficient. That it is 

 not injurious to walls, I have had repeated assurance from 

 persons who spoke from their own practical experience. 

 When sufficiently old, so as to cover a wall, it protects it 

 both from sun and rain; and do we not every where see, 

 that the part of a ruin best preserved, is that which the Iv}^ 

 covers? It may serve, too, as a substitute for a part which 

 time has nearly removed, as was remarked to me by the 

 friend above alluded to. " Had it not been for the Ivy," 

 said he, "that summer house," (directing my attention 

 to a little square building, of which scarcely a stone could 

 be seen through its verdant envelope,) "would many 

 years ago have been roofless and dilapidated; the Ivy has 

 saved it from destruction." 



Were the sight not so familiar, we should find some diffi- 

 culty in conceiving how a plant of such large dimensions 

 could climb up and adhere to a steep wall or rock. It does 

 so b}^ sending out a number of claws or root-like projec- 

 tions, which insinuate themselves into the pores of the 

 body it ascends; and by them it is kept fixed. It appears 

 that these claws keep their hold by swelling, so as com- 

 pletely to fill the pores; though some have thought that 

 atmospheric pressure was the chief agent of adhesion. 

 Uuu 



Does the Ivy, you may ask, shoot out these claws at ran- 

 dom? Not when it is of material consequence that they 

 should proceed from one side only; and hence in the 

 young Ivy we find that they shoot only from the side 

 that is applied to the tree or wall. If you examine a 

 young Ivy branch climbing up the smooth bark of a beech, 

 you will find that its claws go out in great numbers from 

 each side, and spread horizontally, and in tearing it oflf 

 you will bring portions of the epidermis, or outer layer of 

 the bark adhering to them. It is evident, that on a smooth 

 bark this direction must be the most effectual in fixing them 

 to the part, but if the latter be rough and chinky, then you 

 will observe that the claws in general run perpendicularly 

 into the fissures, and do not spread out sideways, which 

 in this case would not be so effectual. When the Ivy is 

 old enough to have a trunk, then the claws shoot out from 

 the latter, and its larger branches on all sides, so as to ren- 

 der it rough and as if clothed in bristles; but we never see 

 this in the young state. 



Through the medium of these claws the Ivy ascends to a 

 great height; it will mount the highest castle or tower, and 

 wave triumphant on its summit; and yet, though it climbs 

 the trunks of very high trees, we do not find that il ascends 

 farupon the branches. If it did so it would injure the tree 

 very materially, or destroy it, by chokingits leaves. Have 

 you ever remarked how the shape of the Ivy-leaf varies 

 according to its situation? It differs greatly according to 

 circumstances, and I apprehend that the variations arc 

 connected with a very curious and important part of the 

 economy of the plant. The leaf of the young Ivy is pen- 

 tangular, or five angled, and while the plant is climbing, it 

 is almost invariably of this form. But if a branch project 

 from the stem, and hang out free from the tree or wall, you 

 willfindthattheleavesofsuchbranch are ovate or lanceolate, 

 and also, that on the branch itself there is no appearance 

 of claws. 



When an Ivy trunk has got fair possession of a wall, its 

 branches diverge from it somewhat in manner of the spokes 

 of a fan, and when they have reached the top of the wall 

 they creep along it laterally, forming innumerable twist- 

 ings and overlappings by which the whole are bound to- 

 gether in the strongest manner, and the branches which 

 rise up and bear the flowers and fruit, are, in general, 

 rather lateral ramifications than the continuations of the 

 stem. They do not overtop the wall more than two or 

 three feet, for the economy of the plant seems to be alter- 

 ed whenever it has got on so far as to stand no longer in 

 need of its claws. Its whole powers then seem to bear 

 on the ultimate object, the production of seeds, and when 

 it is arrived at the top of the wall a higher elevatipn is un- 

 necessary. It is the same circumstance, I believe, that 




202 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



limits the growth of the plant, in a great measure, to the 

 trunk andpart of the larger branches of the tree. When 

 it has got so high, the formation of claws and tendency to 

 climb cease, and the branches produce flowers succeeded 

 by berries. In the adhesion of Ivy to rocks and walls, the 

 frequent overlapping of its branches serves most material- 

 ly to strengthen its hold, and we observe innumerable 

 young branches not climbing up in the direction of the 

 parent trunks, but crossing and twining over them in all 

 possible ways, transversely and oblique, and tying them 

 down as with strings or cords to the surface on which they 

 are placed. This is still more evident in trees where we 

 find the young shoots of the Ivy often forming rings round 

 the trunks and thicker branches, like so many girths or 

 braces. The intertwinings of the branches, and their ser- 

 pentine direction, often bear a very exact resemblance to 

 the distribution of blood-vessels in some parts of the ani- 

 mal body; and I have remarked a circumstance still more 

 curious, that whenever the branches which cross each other 

 have become as thick as one's little finger, they grow to- 

 gether at the points of contact, so as to become perfectly 

 consolidated with each other. This is still more striking 

 in the larger branches, and you will often, on observing 

 the trunk of an Ivy bush, find that it is composed of a con- 

 geries of smaller stems which have all grown together into 

 one mass, and formed what, without examination, would 

 seem to be one simple uncompounded trunk. 



[Letters to a Young Naturalist. 



From the Library of Useful Knowledge. 



THE VICES AND DISAGREEABLE OR DAN- 

 GEROUS HABITS OF THE HORSE. 



( Concluded. ) 



WIND-STJCKING. 



This bears a close analogy to crib-biting. It arises 

 from the same causes; the same purpose is accomplished; 

 and the same results follow. The Horse stands with his 

 neck bent; his head drawn inward; his lips alternately a 

 little opened and then closed, and a noise is heard as if he 

 were sucking. If we may judge from the same compara- 

 tive want of condition, and the flatulence which we have 

 described under the last head, either some portion of wind 

 enters the stomach, or there is an injurious loss of saliva. 

 This diminishes the value of the Horse almost as much as 

 crib-biting; it is as contagious, and it is as inveterate. The 

 only remedies, and they will seldom avail, are tying the 

 head up, except when the Horse is feeding, or putting on 

 a muzzle, with sharp spikes towards the neck, and which 



shall prick him whenever he attempts to rein his head in 

 for the purpose of wind-sucking. 



NOT LYING DOWN. 



It not uncommonly happens that a Horse will seldom or 

 never lie down in the stable. He sometimes continues in 

 apparent good health, and feeds and works well; but ge- 

 nerally his legs swell, or he becomes fatigued sooner 

 than another Horse. If it is impossible to let him loose in 

 the stable, or to put him into a spare box, we know not 

 what is to be done. No means, gentle or cruel, will 

 force him to lie down. The secret is that he is tied up, 

 and either has never dared to lie down through fear of the 

 confinement of the halter, or he has been cast in the night, 

 and severely injured. If he can be suflered to range the 

 stable, or have a comfortable box, in which he may be 

 loose, he will usually lie down the first night. Some few 

 Horses, however, will lie down in the stable, and not in a 

 loose box. A fresh, well-made bed, will generallly tempt 

 the tired Horse to lie down. 



OVERREACH. 



This unpleasant noise, known also by the terms ^'click- 

 ing," "overreach," &c., arises from the toe of the hind 

 foot knocking against the shoe of the fore foot. In the 

 trot, one fore leg and the opposite hind leg are first lifted 

 from the ground and moved forward, the other fore leg 

 and the opposite hind leg remaining fixed; but, to keep 

 the centre of gravity within the base, and as the stride, 

 or space passed over by these legs, is often greater than 

 the distance between the fore tmd hind feet, it is neces- 

 sary that the fore feet should be alternately moved out of 

 the way for the hind feet to descend. Then, as occa- 

 sionally happens with Horses not perfectly broken, and 

 that have not been taught their paces, and especially if 

 they have high hinder quarters and low fore ones, if 

 the fore feet are not raised in time, the hind feet will 

 strike them. The fore foot will generally be caught 

 when it has just begun to be raised, and the toe of the 

 hind foot will meet the middle of the bottom of the 

 fore foot. It is a very disagreeable noise, and not alto- 

 gether free from danger; for it may so happen that a 

 Horse, the action of whose feet generally so much in- 

 terferes with each other, may advance the hind foot a 

 little more rapidly, or raise the fore one a little more 

 slowly, so that the blow may fall on the heel of the 

 shoe, and loosen or displace it; or the two shoes may 

 be locked together, and the animal may be thrown; or 

 the contusion may be received even higher, and on the 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



tendons of the leg, when considerable swelling and lame- 

 ness may follow. 



If the animal is young, the action of the Horse may be 

 materially improved; otherwise, nothing can be done, ex- 

 cept to keep the toe of the hind foot as short and as round 

 as it can safely be, and to bevil off and round the toe 

 of the shoe, like that which has been worn by a stum- 

 bler for a fortnight, and, perhaps, a little to lower the 

 heel of the fore foot. 



A blow received on the heel of the fore foot in this 

 manner, has not unfrequently, and especially if neglected, 

 been followed b}' quittor. 



Some hot and irritable Horses are restless even in the 

 stable, and paw frequently and violently. Their litter 

 is destroyed, the floor of the stable broken up, the shoes 

 worn out, the feet bruised, and the legs sometimes 

 sprained. If this habit does not exist to any great ex- 

 tent, yet the stable never looks well. Shackles are the 

 only remedy, with a chain sufficiently long to enable 

 the Horse to shift his posture, or move in his stall; but 

 even these must be taken off at night, otherwise the 

 animal will seldom lie down. 



A Horse will sometimes parti}' chew his hay, and suf- 

 fer it to drop from his mouth. If this does not pro- 

 ceed from irregular teeth, which it will be the busi- 

 ness of the veterinary surgeon to rasp down, it will be 

 found to be connected with sore-throat, and then the 

 Horse will exhibit some other symptom of indisposi- 

 tion, and the swallowing of water will be accompanied 

 by a peculiar gulping effort. In this case the disease, 

 (catarrh, with sore-throat,) must be attacked, and the 

 quidding will cease. 



ROLLING. 



This is a very pleasant and perfectly safe amusement 

 for a Horse at grass, but cannot be indulged in the 

 stable, without the chance of his being dangerously en- 

 tangled with the collar rein, and being cast. Yet, al- 

 though the Horse is cast, and bruised, and half-stran- 

 gled, he will roll again on the following night, and con- 

 tinue to do so as long as he lives. The only remedy 

 is not a very pleasant one to the Horse, nor always quite 

 safe; yet it must be had recourse to if the habit of rolling 

 is inveterate. "The Horse," says INIr. Castley, in the 



Veterinarian, " should be tied with length enough of 

 collar to lie down, but not to allow of his head resting on 

 the ground; because, in order to roll over, a Horse is 

 obliged to place his head quite down upon the ground." 



This vice, while it is often the result of cowardice, or 

 playfulness, or want of work, it is at other times the con- 

 sequence of a defect of sight. It has been remarked, and 

 we believe very truly, that shying is oftener a vice of 

 half or quarter-bred Horses, than of those who have in 

 them more of the genuine racing blood. 



In thp treatment of shying, it is of great importance to 

 distinguish between that which is the consequence of de- 

 fective sight, and that which results from fear, or new- 

 ness of objects, or from mere affectation or skittishness. 

 For the first, every allowance must be made, and care 

 must be taken that the fear of correction be not associated 

 with the imagined existence of some terrifying object. 

 The severe use of the whip and the spur cannot do good 

 here, and are likely to aggravate the vice tenfold. A word 

 half encouraging and half scolding, with a gentle pres- 

 sure of the heel, or a slight touch of the spur, will tell 

 the Horse that there was nothing to fear, and will give 

 him confidence in his rider on a future occasion. It should 

 be remembered, however, that although a Horse that 

 shies from defective sight may be taught considerable re- 

 liance on his rider, he can never have the cause of the 

 habit removed. We may artificially strengthen the hu- 

 man sight, but the Horse's must be left to itself. 



The shying from skittishness or affectation is quite a 

 different affair, and must be conquered: but how? Seve- 

 rity is out of place even here. If he is forced up to 

 the object by dint of correction, the dread of punishment 

 will afterwards be associated with that object, and on the 

 next occasion, his startings will be more frequent and 

 more dangerous. The way to cure him is to go on, turn- 

 ing as little as possible out of the road, giving the animal 

 a harsh word or two, and a gentle touch with the spur, 

 and then taking no more notice of the matter. After a 

 few times, whatever may have been the object which he 

 chose to select as the pretended cause of affright, he will 

 pass it almost without notice. 



A colt may be cured of the habit of shying from 

 fear or newness of objects; and if when "breaking 

 in," he be accustomed as much as possible to the 

 objects among which his services will be required, he 

 will not possess this annoying vice when he grows to 

 niaturer age. 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



Mr. John Lawrence, in his pleasing work on the Horse, 

 sa3's, " These animals generally fix on some particular 

 shying butt: for example, I recollect having, at different 

 periods, three hacks, all very powerful; the one made 

 choice of a wind-mill for the object or butt, the other a 

 tilted wagon, and the last a pig led in a string. It so hap- 

 jjened, however, that I rode the two former when amiss 

 from a violent cold, and they then paid no more attention 

 to either wind-mills or tilted wagons than to any other 

 objects, convincing me that their shying when in health 

 and spirits was pure affectation; an affectation, however, 

 which may be speedily united with obstinacy and vice. 

 Let it be treated with marked displeasure, mingled with 

 gentle, but decided firmness, and the habit will be of 

 short endurance." 



Shying on coining out of the stable is a habit that can 

 rarely or never be cured. It proceeds from the remem- 

 brance of some ill usage or hurt which the animal has re- 

 ceived in the act of proceeding from the stable, such as 

 striking his head against a low door-way, or entangling 

 the harness. Coercion will but associate greater fear and 

 more determined resistance with the old recollection. 

 Mr. Castley, to whom we are indebted for much that is 

 valuable on the subject of the vices of the Horse, gives an 

 interesting anecdote, which tends to prove, that while se- 

 verity will be worse than useless, even kind treatment 

 will not break a confirmed habit. " I remember a very 

 fine grey mare that had got into this habit, and never 

 could be persuaded to go through a door-way without 

 taking an immense jump. To avoid this, the servants 

 used to back her in and out of the stable; but the mare 

 happening to meet with a severe injury of the spine, was 

 no longer able to back; and then I have seen the poor 

 creature, when brought to the door, endeavouring to 

 balance herself with a staggering motion upon her half- 

 paralyzed hind extremities, as if making preparation and 

 summoning up resolution for some great effort; and then, 

 when urged, she would plunge headlong forward with 

 such violence of exertion, as often to lose her feet, and 

 tumble down, ' altogether most pitiable to be seen.' This 

 I merely mention," he continues, "as one proof how in- 

 veterate the habits of Horses are. They are evils, let it 

 always be remembered, more easy to prevent than cure." 



SLIPPING THE COLLAR. 



This is a trick at which many Horses are so clever, that 

 scarcely a night passes without their getting loose. It is 

 a very serious habit, for it enables the Horse sometimes 

 to gorge himself with food, to the imminent danger of 

 staggers; or it exposes him, as he wanders about, to be 



kicked and injured by the other Horses, while his restless- 

 ness will often keep the whole team awake. If the web 

 of the halter, being first accurately fitted to his neck, is 

 suffered to slip only one way, or a strap is attached to the 

 halter and buckled round the neck, but not sufficiently 

 tight to be of serious inconvenience, the power of slipping 

 the collar will be taken away. 



He must be a skilful practitioner or a mere pretender who 

 promises to remedy this habit. If it arises from a heavy 

 forehand, and the fore legs being too much under the 

 Horse, no one can alter the natural frame of the beast: if 

 it proceeds from tenderness of the foot, grogginess, or old 

 lameness, these ailments are seldom cured; and if it is to 

 be traced to habitual carelessness and idleness, no whip- 

 ping will rouse the drone. A known stumbler should 

 never be ridden or driven alone, by any one who values 

 his safety or his life. A tight hand or a strong bearing- 

 rein are precautions that should not be neglected, butthej' 

 are generally of little avail; for the inveterate stumbler 

 will rarely try to save himself, and this tight rein may 

 sooner and farther precipitate the rider. If, after a trip, 

 the Horse suddenly starts forward, and endeavours to 

 break into a canter, the rider or driver may be assured 

 that others before him have fruitlessly endeavoured to 

 remedy this nuisance. 



If the stumbler has the foot kept as short and the toe 

 pared as close as safety will permit, and the shoe be round- 

 ed at the toe, or have that shape given to it which it na- 

 turally acquires in a fortnight from the action of such a 

 Horse, the animal may not stumble quite so much; or if 

 the disease which produced the habit can be alleviated, 

 some trifling good may be done, but in almost every case 

 a stumbler should be got rid of, or put to slow and heavy 

 work. If the latter alternative be adopted, he may trip as 

 much as he pleases, for the weight of the load and the mo- 

 tion of the other Horses will keep him upon his legs. 



WEAVING. 



This consists in a motion of the head, neck, and body, 

 from side to side, like the shuttle of a weaver passing 

 through the web, and hence the name which is given to 

 this peculiar and incessant action. It indicates an impa- 

 tient, irritable temper, and a dislike to the confinement of 

 the stable; and a Horse that is thus incessantly on the 

 fret will never carry flesh, or be safe to ride or drive. 

 There is no cure for it, but the close tying up of the ani- 

 mal, except at feeding time. 




i^ 





AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



THE BLACK WOLF. 



CANIS NUBILUS. 



(Plate XXIII. Vol. 2.) 



Canis Li/caon; Limfi. SsREt." Saeugthiere, pi. 89. God- 

 man, f^ol. 1. jj. 267. — LoKp Noir; Buff. 9. ])l. 41. 

 Black Wolf: Say in Long's Expedition to the Rocky 

 Mountains, p. 102, Vol. 1. — Menagerie Living Ani- 

 mals exhibited in Philadelphia, winter of 1832 — 3. 



There was, for some time, much doubt among natu- 

 ralists, whether the Black Wolf should be considered a 

 separate species, or only a variety of the common Wolf; 

 but, on a close investigation of the internal and anatomi- 

 cal structure, habits and general appearance of the Black 

 Wolf, it has become a settled question that it is a differ- 

 ent animal altogether. Of the two animals belonging to the 

 Zoological gardens of London, it is remarked, "that they 

 exhibit real and substantial marks of distinction of suffi- 

 cient value to sanction their separation from the other 

 species — considerably longer and more robust than the 

 common Wolf, and differing greatly in the expression of 

 their physiognomj^; neither in figure nor in countenance 

 are thej' remarkable for that starved and gaunt appear- 

 ance which is the common and well known attribute of 

 the latter. In fact, they have altogether a more fierce and 

 formidable, but, at the same time, a more noble and less 

 sinister aspect. 



"Their hair, which is of considerable length, especial- 

 ly along the middle of the back and shoulders, where it 

 forms an indistinct and scattered mane, is mottled with 

 various shades of black, gray and white, giving to the 

 whole animal that dark and clouded colour which consti- 

 tutes one of its most peculiar and striking characteristics. 

 The colouring, which, on the upper parts of the body 

 is deep black, becomes somewhat lighter on the sides, 

 and assumes a yet brighter shade beneath: the chin and 

 angles of the mouth are nearly white; the gray tinge pre- 

 dominating over tlie darker shades in various other parts, 

 but by no means in so regular a manner as to merit a par- 

 ticular description. The ears are remarkably short, and 

 the tail is also somewhat shorter in proportion than that 

 of the common Wolf, not reaching in its solid form be- 

 neath the posterior bend (which, in all these animals, is 

 formed by the heel) of the hind legs." 



These animals, it appears, were sent to England by the 



Hudson's Bay Company, by some of whose hunters they 



had been trapped in the northern regions of America. 



They are represented as exceedingly voracious, tearing 



Www 



their meat and swallowing it in large gobbets, and after- 

 wards gnawing the bones with truly wolfish avidity. 

 '« Their length is four feet and a quarter from the tip of 

 the nose to the origin of the tail." 



Dr. Godman, in describing the Black Wolf, says: "in 

 general appearance and the relative proportions of the 

 different parts of the body, this Wolf resembles the com- 

 mon wolf, (Canis Lupas,) but in size it is intermediate to 

 the fox and common wqjf. The colour of the animal is 

 its most remarkable characteristic: it is entirely black, 

 without the slightest admixture of any other colour." 



Of these two descriptions of the Black Wolf, the wri- 

 ter considers the former the most correct, having, from 

 actual observation, closely noticed the structure, habits 

 and disposition of the animal, as far as a state of half do- 

 mesticity would permit. 



The animal from which the drawing in the preceding 

 plate was taken, belongs to the celebrated Menagerie of 

 living animals, exhibited in various parts of this countrj'' 

 by ]\Iessrs. Welsh, Purdy & Co., and corresponds in most 

 particulars with those belonging to the Zoological gar- 

 dens of London. Dr. Godman, however, may be correct, 

 (and I am inclined to think he is,) in regard to the colour 

 of the animal being perfectly black, as long confinement 

 and restraint on the natural habits of this Wolf, may have 

 great influence in changing the pelage or its colour. 



The Black Wolf appears to be confined chiefly to the 

 Rocky Mountains, and the more northerly regions of 

 America; it is, perliaps, the rarest of its genus, and but 

 few specimens have ever been presented to public view, 

 although almost every district of North America is infest- 

 ed with the other species. 



The animal under immediate notice was brought by 

 some traders, while yet a whelp, from the neighbourhood 

 of the Rocky Mountains, to one of the towns on the ]Mis- 

 souri, from thence it found its way to the Menagerie spo- 

 ken of; but in consequence of much suffering by confine- 

 ment, especially with the mange, it became necessary to 

 remove it from the company of the other wild animals. 

 This Wolf, although at times it evinced much ferocity, 

 would generally suffer the writer to pet it, and would fre- 

 quently lie down and crouch like a dog, and utter the 

 same whining cry of humility; it was exceedingly active 

 and graceful in every motion, and when irritated, would 

 growl and snap with violence at any object intended to 

 worry it, and when punished, would yelp like a dog; he 

 was not gaunt, but fat, and very stately in his appearance, 

 moving about with head and tail very erect. The fatness, 

 however, in truth, proceeded from the abundance of food 

 given it, without exertion on the animal's part to obtain 

 it; and, being deprived of the necessity of seeking a sub- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY 



sistence, by the means which its predatory habits natural- 

 ly require, it no doubt, as in the caae of those of the Zoo- 

 logical gardens, become very fat and subject to disease. 

 This wolf is the same in habit as the other species; and 

 the whole genus, besides being the greatest nightly de- 

 predators, will, during the season of darkness, remain 

 longer on foot in a state of activity than all other animals; 

 the consequence is, that being led by its exceeding desire 

 for food, it will travel over extensive countries, and must, 

 in the very nature of the case, be poor and gaunt. 



It is designed to enter more particularly into the his- 

 tory and habits of the Wolf, when these become neces- 

 sary under the head of The Brown Wolf, at which time 

 every peculiarity of tlie animal will be given, with many 

 illustrative anecdotes. 



FLOCKS OF WILD PIGEONS. 



The most remarkable characteristic of these birds is 

 their associating together, both in their migrations, and 

 also during the period of incubation, in such prodigious 

 numbers as almost to surpass belief; and which has no 

 parallel among any other of the feathered tribes, on the 

 face of the earth, with which naturalists are acquainted. 



These migrations appear to be undertaken rather in 

 quest of food, than merely to avoid the cold of the cli- 

 mate, since we find them lingering in the nortliern re- 

 giojis around Hudson's Bay so late as December'; and 

 since their appearance is so casual and irregular; some- 

 times not visiting certain districts for several years in any 

 considerable numbers, while at other times they are in- 

 numerable. I have witnessed these migrations in the 

 Genessee country — often in Pennsylvania, and also in va- 

 rious parts of Virginia, with amazement; but all that I 

 had then seen of them were mere straggling parties, when 

 compared with the congregated millions which I have 

 since beheld in our western forests, in the states of Ohio, 

 Kentucky, and the Indiana territory. These fertile and 

 extensive regions abound with the nutritious beech nut, 

 which constitutes the chief food of the Wild Pigeon. In 

 seasons when these nuts are abundant, corresponding mul- 

 titudes of Pigeons may be confidently expected. It some- 

 times happens, that having consumed the whole produce' of 

 the beech trees in an extensive district, they discoveranother 

 at the distance perhaps of sixty or eighty miles, to which 

 they regularly repair every morning, and return as regu- 

 larly in the course of the day, or in the evening, to their 

 place of general rendezvous, or as it is usually called, the 

 roosting j)lace. These roosting places are always in the 



woods, and sometimes occupy a large extent of foi-est. 

 When they have frequented one of these places for some 

 time, the appearance it exhibits is surprising. The ground 

 is covered to the depth of several inches with their dung; 

 all the tender grass and underwood destroyed; the sur- 

 face strewed with large limbs of trees broken down by 

 the weight of the birds clustering one above another; and 

 the trees themselves, for thousands of acres, killed as com- 

 pletely as if girdled with an axe. The marks of this deso- 

 lation remain for many years on the spot; and numerous 

 places could be pointed out, where, for several years after, 

 scarce a single vegetable made its appearance. 



When these roosts are first discovered, the inhabitants 

 from considerable distances visit them in the night, witl; 

 guns, clubs, long poles, pots of sulphur, and vai-ious other 

 engines of destruction. In a few hours they fill many 

 sacks, and load tJieir horses with them. By the Indians; 

 a Pigeon roost, or breeding place, is considered an impor- 

 tant source of national profit and dependence for that sea- 

 son; and all their active ingenuity is exercised on the oc- 

 casion. The breeding place differs from the former in 

 its greater extent. In the western countries above men- 

 tioned, these are generally in beech woods, and often ex- 

 tend in nearly a straight line across the country for a great 

 way. Not far from Shelbyville, in the state of Kentucky, 

 about five years ago, there was one of these breeding 

 places, which stretched through the woods in nearly a 

 north and south direction, was several miles in breadth, 

 and was said to be upwards of forty miles in extent! In 

 this tract almost every tree was furnished with nests, 

 wherever the branches could accommodate them. The 

 Pigeons made their first appearance there about the 10th 

 of April, and left it altogether, with their young, before 

 the 25th of May. 



As soon as the young were fully grown, and before 

 they left the nests, numerous parties of the inhabitants, 

 from all parts of the adjacent country, came with wagons, 

 axes, beds, cooking utensils, many of them accompanied 

 by the greater part of their families, and encamped for 

 several days at this immense nursery. Several of them 

 informed me, that the noise in the woods was so great as 

 to terrify their horses, and that it was difficult for one 

 person to liear another speak without bawling in liis ear. 

 The ground was strewed with broken limbs of trees, eggs. 

 and squab Pigeons, which had been precipitated from 

 above, and on which herds of hogs were fattening. 

 Hawks, buzzards, and eagles, were sailing about in great 

 numbers, and seizing the squabs from their nests at plea- 

 sure; while from twenty feet upwards to the tops of the 

 trees the view through the woods presented a perpetual 

 tumult of crowding and fluttering multitudes of Pigeons, 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



tlieir wings roaring like thunder; mingled -with the fre- 

 quent crash of falling timber; for now the axe-men were 

 *■ at work cutting down those trees that seemed to be most 

 crowded with nests; and contrived to fell them in such a 

 manner, that in their descent they might bringdown seve- 

 ral others; by which means the falling of one large tree 

 sometimes produced two hundred squabs, little inferior in 

 size to the old ones, and almost one mass of fat. On some 

 single trees upwards of one hundred nests were found, 

 each containing one young only, a circumstance in the 

 history of this bird not generally known to naturalists. It 

 was dangerous to walk under these flying and fluttering 

 millions, from the frequent fall of large branches, broken 

 down by the weight of the multitudes above, and which 

 in their descent often destroyed numbers of the birds 

 themselves. 



These circumstances vrere related to me by many of the 

 most respectable part of the community in that quarter; 

 and were confirmed in part by what I myself witnessed. 

 I passed for several miles through this same breeding 

 ])lace, where every tree was spotted with nests, the re- 

 mains of those above described. In many instances, I 

 counted upwards of ninety nests on a single tree; but the 

 Pigeons had abandoned this place for another, sixty or 

 eighty miles off, towards Green River, where they were 

 said at that time to be equally numerous. From the great 

 numbers that were constantly passing over head, to or 

 from that quarter, I had no doubt of the truth of this 

 statement. The mast had been chiefly consumed in Ken- 

 tucky, and the Pigeons, every morning, a little before 

 sun-rise, set out for the Indiana territory, the nearest part 

 of which was about sixty miles distant. Many of these 

 returned before ten o'clock, and the great body generally 

 appeared on their return a little after noon. 



I had left the public road, to visit the remains of the 

 breeding place near Shelbyville, and was traversing the 

 woods with my gun, in my way to Frankfort, when about 

 one o'clock, the Pigeons, which I had observed flying the 

 greater part of the morning northerly, began to return in 

 such immetjse numbers as I never before had witnessed. 

 Coming to an opening by the side of a creek, called the 

 Benson, where I had a more uninterrupted view, I was 

 astonished at their appearance. They were flying with 

 great steadiness and rapidity, at a height beyond gun-shot, 

 in several strata deep, and so close together, that 

 could shot have reached them, one discharge could not 

 have failed of bringing down several individuals. From 

 right to left, as far as the eye could reach, the breadth of 

 this vast procession extended; seeming every where equal- 

 ly crowded. Curious to determine how long this appear- 

 ance would continue, I took out my watch to note the 



time, and sat down to observe them. It was then half- 

 past one. I sat for more than an hour, but instead of a 

 diminution of this prodigious procession, it seemed rather 

 to increase both in numbers and rapidity; and, anxious to 

 reach Frankfoil before night, I rose and went on. About 

 four o'clock in the afternoon I crossed the Kentucky 

 river, at the town of Frankfort, at which time the living 

 torrent above my head seemed as numerous and as exten- 

 sive as ever. Long after this I observed them, in large 

 bodies that continued to pass for six or eight minutes, and 

 these again were followed by other detached bodies, all 

 moving in the same south-east direction, till after six in 

 the evening. The great breadth of front which this 

 mighty multitude preserved, would seem to intimate a cor- 

 responding breadth of their breeding place, which, by 

 several gentlemen who had lately passed through part of 

 it, was stated to me at several miles. It was said to be 

 in Green county, and that the young began to fly about 

 the middle of March. On Uie 17th of April, forty-nine 

 miles be3'ond Danville, and not far from Green River, I 

 crossed the same breeding place, where the nests for more 

 than three miles spotted every tree; the leaves not being 

 yet out, I had a fair prospect of them, and was really as- 

 tonished at their numbers. A few bodies of Pigeons lin- 

 gered yet in different parts of the woods, the roaring 

 of whose wings were heard in various quarters around me. 



All accounts agree in stating, that each nest contains 

 only one young. This is so extremely fat, that the In- 

 dians, and many of the whites, are accustomed to melt 

 down the fat for domestic purposes, as a substitute for 

 butter and lard. At the time they leave the nest they 

 are nearly as heavy as the old ones; but become much 

 leaner after they are turned out to shift for themselves. 



It is universally asserted in the western countries, that 

 the Pigeons, though they have only one young at a time, 

 breed thrice, and sometimes four times, in the same sea- 

 son; the circumstances already mentioned render this 

 highly probable. It is also worthy of observation, that 

 this takes place during that period when acorns, beech 

 nuts, &c., are scattered about in the greatest abundance, 

 and mellowed by the frost. But they are not confined to 

 these alone; buckwheat, hempseed, Indian corn, holly 

 berries, hack berries, buckle berries, and many others, 

 furnish them with abundance at almost all seasons. The 

 acorns of the live oak are also eagerly sought after by 

 these birds, and rice has been frequently found in indivi- 

 duals killed many hundred miles to the northward of the 

 nearest rice plantation. The vast quantity of mast which 

 these multitudes consume, is a serious loss to the bears, 

 pigs, squirrels, and other dependents on the fruits of the 

 forest. I have taken from the crop of a single Wild 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORt, 



Pigeon, a good handful of the kernels of beech nuts, in- 

 termixed with acorns and chesnuts. To form a rough es- 

 timate of the daily consumption of one of these immense 

 flocks, let us first attempt to calculate the numbers of that 

 above mentioned, as seen in passing between Frankfort 

 and the Indiana territory. If we suppose this column to 

 have been one mile in breadth, (and I believe it to have 

 been much more,) and that it moved at the rate of one 

 mile in a minute; four hours, the time it continued pass- 

 ing, would make its whole length two hundred and forty 

 miles. Again: supposing that each square yai'd of this 

 moving body comprehended three Pigeons, the square 

 yards in the whole space, multiplied by three, would give 

 two thousand, two hundred and thirty millions, two hun- 

 dred and seventy-two thousand Pigeons! An almost in- 

 conceivable multitude, and yet probably far below the 

 actual amount. Computing each of these to consume half 

 a pint of mast daily, the whole quantity at this rate, would 

 equal seventeen millions, four hundred and twenty-four 

 thousand bushels per daj- ! Heaven has wisely and gra- 

 ciously given to these birds rapidity of flight, and a dispo- 

 sition to range over vast uncultivated tracts of the earth; 

 otherwise they must have perished in the districts where 

 they resided, or devoured up the whole productions of 

 agriculture, as well as those of the forests. 



A few observations on the mode of flight of these birds 

 must not be omitted. The appearance of large detached 

 bodies of them in the air, and the various evolutions they 

 display, are strikingly picturesque and interesting. In 

 descending the Ohio, by myself, in the month of Febru- 

 ary, I often rested on my oars to contemplate their aerial 

 manoeuvres. A column, eight or ten miles in length, 

 would appear from Kentucky, high in air, steering across 

 to Indiana. The leaders of this great body would some- 

 times gradually vary their course, until it formed a large 

 bend of more than a mile in diameter, those behind tracing 

 the exact route of their predecessors. This would con- 

 tinue sometimes long after both extremities were beyond 

 the reach of sight, so that the whole, with its glittery un- 

 dulations, marked a space on the face of the heavens re- 

 sembling the windings of a vast and majestic river. When 

 this bend became very great, the birds, as if sensible of 

 the unnecessary circuitous course they were taking, sud- 

 denly changed their direction, so that what was in co- 

 lumn before became an immense front, straightening all 

 its indentures, until it swept the heavens in one vast and 

 infinitely extended line. Other lesser bodies also united 

 with each other, as they happened to approach, with such 

 ease and elegance of evolution, forming new figures, and 

 varying these as they united or separated, that I was 

 ne\^sr tired of contemplating them. Sometimes a hawk 



would make a sweep on a particular part of the CoknliiiV 

 from a great height, when almost as quick as lightning, 

 that part shot do\vnwards out of the common track, but 4 

 soon rising again, continued advancing at the same height 

 as before, this inflection was continued by those behind, 

 who, on arriving at this point, dived down almost per- 

 pendicularly, to a great depth, and rising, followed the 

 exact path of those that went before. JJ ' 



Happening to go ashore one charming afternoon, ta 

 purchase some milk at a house that stood near the river, 

 and while talking with the people within doors, I was 

 suddenly struck with astonishment at a loud rushing roar, 

 succeeded by instant darkness, which, on the first mo- 

 ment, I took for a tornado about to overwhelm the house, 

 and every thing around in destruction. The people, ob- 

 serving my surprise, coolly said, "It is only the Pigeons;" 

 and on running out I beheld a flock, thirty or forty 

 yards in width, sweeping along very low, between the 

 house and the mountain, or height that formed the second 

 bank of the river. These continued passing for more 

 than a quarter of an hour, and at length varied their bear- 

 ing so as to pass over the mountain, behind which they 

 disappeared before the rear came up. 



In the Atlantic states, though they never appear in such 

 unparalleled multitudes, they are sometimes very nume- 

 rous; and great havoc is then made amongst them with 

 the gun, the clap-net, and various other implements of 

 destruction. As soon as it is ascertained in a town that 

 the Pigeons are flying numerously in the neighbourhood, 

 the gunners rise en masse; the clap-nets are spread out on 

 suitable situations, commonly on an open height, in an 

 old buckwheat field; four or five live Pigeons, with their 

 eyelids sowed up, are fastened on a moveable stick — a 

 small hut of branches is fitted up for the fowler at the dis- 

 tance of forty or fifty yards; by the pullingof a string, the 

 stick on which the Pigeons rest is alternately elevated and 

 depressed, which produces a fluttering of their wings, 

 similar to that of birds just alighting; this being perceived 

 by the passing flocks, they descend with great rapidity ,(. 

 and finding corn, buckwheat, &c., strewed about, begii^ 

 to feed, and are instantly, by the pulling of a cord, co^ • 

 vered with the net. In this manner ten, twenty, and even 

 thirty dozen, have been caught at one sweep. Meantime 

 the air is darkened with large bodies of them, moving in 

 various directions; the woods also swarm with them in 

 search of acorns; and the thundering of musquetry is per- 

 petual on all sides from morning to night. Wagon loads 

 of them are poured into market, where they sell from 

 fifty, to twenty-five, and even twelve cents per dozen; and 

 Pigeons become the order of the day at dinner, breakfast 

 and supper, until the very name becomes sickening. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



When they hare been kept alive, and fed for some time 

 on corn and buckwheat, their flesh acquires great supe- 

 riority; but in their common state they are dry and black- 

 ish, and far inferior to the full grown young ones, or 

 squabs. 



The young, when beginning to fly, confine themselves 

 to the under part of the tall woods where there is no 

 brush, and where nuts and acorns are abundant, searching 

 among the leaves for mast, and appear like a prodigious 

 torrent rolling along through the woods, every one striv- 

 ing to be in the front. Vast numbers of them are shot 

 while in this situation. A person told me, that he once 

 rode furiously into one of these rolling multitudes, and 

 picked up thirteen Pigeons, which had been trampled to 

 death by his horse's feet. In a few minutes they will beat 

 the whole nuts from a tree with their wings; while all 

 is scramble, both above and below, for the same. They 

 have the same cooing notes common to domestic Pigeons; 

 but much less of their gesticulations. In some flocks you 

 will find nothing but young ones, which are easily distin- 

 guishable by their motley dress. In others they will be 

 mostly females; and again great multitudes of males, with 

 few or no females. 1 cannot account for this in any other 

 way than that during the time of incubation the males are 

 exclusively engaged in procuring food, both for them- 

 selves and their mates; and the young being unable yet 

 to undertake these extensive excursions, associate to- 

 gether accordingly. But even in winter I know of seve- 

 ral species of birds who separate in this manner, particu- 

 larly the Red-winged Starling, among whom thousands 

 of old males may be found, with few or no young, or 

 females along with them. — Wilson. 



BUILDING A NEST. 



The romantic, though accurate naturalist, Vaillant, 

 has given, in his " Oiseaux d'Afrique," the following 

 lively narrative of the proceedings of a pair of small Afri- 

 can birds in the construction of a nest. He had con- 

 trived, by tempting tit-bits, to render the species alluded 

 to, which he calls the Capocier, so familiar, that a pair 

 of these birds regularly entered his tent several times a 

 day, and even seemed to recognise him in the adjacent 

 thickets as he passed along. " The breeding season," he 

 goes on, "had no sooner arrived, than I perceived the 

 visits of my two little guests to become less frequent^ 

 though, whether they sought solitude the better to mature 

 their plans, or whether, as the rains had ceased and insects 

 became so abundant that my tit-bits were less relished, I 

 X X X 



cannot tell, but they seldom made their appearance for 

 four or five successive days, after which they unexpected- 

 ly returned, and it was not long before I discovered the 

 motives that had brought them back. During their for- 

 mer visits they had not failed to observe the cotton, moss, 

 and flax which I used to stuff my birds with, and which 

 were always lying upon my table. Finding it, no doubt, 

 much more convenient to come and furnish themselves 

 with these articles there than to go and pick the down 

 from the branches of plants, I saw them carry away in 

 their beaks parcels of these, much larger in bulk than 

 themselves. 



" Having followed and watched them, I found the place 

 which they had selected for constructing the cradle which 

 should contain their infant progeny. In a corner of a re- 

 tired and neglected garden, there grew, by the side of a 

 small spring beneath the shelter of the only tree which 

 ornamented that retreat, a high plant, called by the colo- 

 nists of the Cape, Capoc-bosche. In this shrub they had 

 already laid a part of the foundation with moss, the fork 

 of the branches chosen for the reception of the nest being 

 already bedded therewith. The first materials were laid 

 on the 11th of October. The second day's labour pre- 

 sented a rude mass, about four inches in thickness, and 

 from five to six inches in diameter. This was the founda- 

 tion of the nest, which was composed of moss and flax, in- 

 terwoven with grass and tufts of cotton. 



" I passed the whole of the second day by the side of 

 the nest, which the female never quitted from the mo- 

 ment my windows were opened in the morning till near- 

 ly ten o'clock, and from five o'clock in the evening till 

 seven. On the morning of the 12th, the male made 

 twenty-nine journies to my room, and in the evening only 

 seventeen. He gave great assistance to the female in 

 trampling down and pressing the cotton with his body, in 

 order to make it into a sort of felt-work. 



"When the male arrived with parcels of moss and cot- 

 ton, he deposited his load either on the edge of the nest, 

 or upon branches within the reach of the female. He 

 made four or five trips of this kind without interruption, 

 and then set about helping his mate in the execution of her 

 work. 



" This agreeable occupatioft was often interrupted by 

 innocent and playful gambols, though the female appear- 

 ed to be so actively and anxiously employed about her 

 building, as to have less relish for trifling than the male; 

 and she even punished him for his frolics by pecking him 

 well with her beak. He, on the other hand, fought in 

 his turn, pecked, pulled down the work which they had 

 done, prevented the female from continuing her labours, 

 and, in a v^^ord, seemed to tell her, ' You refuse to be n-y 




270 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



playmate on account of this work, therefore you shall not 

 do it!' It will scarcely be credited, that, entirely from 

 what I saw and knew respecting these little altercations, 

 I was both surprised and angry at the female. In order, 

 however, to save the fabric from spoliation, she left off 

 working, and fled from bush to bush, for the express pur- 

 pose of teasing him. Soon afterwards, having made mat- 

 ters up again, the female returned to her labour, and the 

 male sung during several minutes in the most animated 

 strains. After his song was concluded he began again to 

 occupy himself with the work, and with fresh ardour car- 

 ried such materials as his companion required, till the 

 spirit of frolic again became buoyant, and a scene similar 

 to that which I have just described recurred. I have wit- 

 nessed eight interruptions of this kind in one morning. 

 How happy birds are! They are certainly the privileged 

 creatures of nature, thus to work and sport alternately as 

 fancy prompts them. 



" On the third day the birds began to rear the side 

 walls of the nest, after having rendered the bottom compact 

 by repeatedly pressing the materials with their breasts, 

 and turning themselves round upon them in all direc- 

 tions. They first formed a plain border, which they 

 afterwards trimmed, and upon this they piled up tufts of 

 cotton, which was felted into the structure by beating 

 and pressing with their breasts and the shoulders of their 

 wings, taking care to arrange any projecting corner with 

 their beaks so as to interlace it into the tissue, and render 

 it more firm. The contiguous branches of the bush ■were 

 enveloped as the work proceeded in the side walls, but 

 without deranging the circular cavity of the interior. This 

 part of the nest required many materials, so that I was 

 quite astonished at the quantity which they used. 



•'On the seventh day their task was finished; and 

 anxious to examine the interior, I determined to Intro- 

 duce my finger, when I felt an egg that had probably been 

 laid that morning, for on the previous evening I could 

 see there was no egg in it, as it was not quite covered in. 

 This beautiful edifice, which was as white as snow, was 

 nine inches in height on the outside, whilst in the inside 

 it was not more than five. Its external form was very 

 irregular on account of the branches which it had been 

 found necessary to enclose; but the inside exactly resem- 

 bled a pullet's egg placed with the small end upwards. 

 Its greatest diameter was five inches, and the smallest 

 four. The entrance was two-thirds or more of the whole 

 height, as seen on the outside; but within it alraost reach- 

 ed the arch of the ceiling above. 



" The interior of this nest was so neatly worked and 

 felted together, that it might have been taken for a piece 

 of fine cloth, a little worn, the tissue being so compact 



and close, tliat it would have been impossible to detach & 

 particle of the materials without tearing the texture to 

 pieces; yet was this only effected by the process which I 

 have already described ; and it must be confessed that it 

 was a work truly admirable, considering the instruments 

 of the little mechanics.'' 



THE ADDER. 



I ONCE met with a man who employed himself in sum- 

 mer in catching Adders, the fat of which he preserved and 

 sold as a sovereign remedy for hurts and swellings, and 

 some other parts of the animal went to the apothecaries to 

 be used in their materia medica. This man in catching 

 Adders used a forked stick and a shorter one. With the 

 first he pinned the Adder to the ground, and killed it with 

 the other. He %vas accompanied by a dog, who hunted 

 for these animals, and who, when he had found one, con- 

 trived generally to seize it by the middle, and shake it 

 with so much rapidity against the sides of his head, that 

 not one Adder in a hundred had time to bite him before 

 he killed it. His owner, however, informed me, that 

 when this happened his head instantly swelled, but the 

 swelling was almost as quickly removed by rubbing it 

 with some of the fat of Adders, which he always carried 

 about with him for the purpose. Twenty-five Adders 

 yielded about half a pound weight of fat. They feed on 

 worms, mice, frogs, and young birds; and before the win- 

 ter sets in, would appear to quit the open downs, where 

 they are found in summer, for the neighbouring woods, 

 as a woodman told me, he had found near sixty of them 

 clustered together in a torpid state, in grubbing up an old 

 tree in the woods. They will however hybernize, (if I 

 may use the word,) with the common snake and the slow 

 worm, each of these having been found with some vipers 

 in a torpid state, a short time ago. The viper-catcher 

 whom I met with assured me that he had frequently seen 

 the young vipers take refuge in the inside of their mother 

 by running into her mouth, which she opens for that pur- 

 pose when danger is apprehended. He also assured me 

 that they are produced alive, the ova being hatched in the 

 inside of the mother, from which they probably creep, as 

 they must do at a more advanced state, after they have 

 made it their place of refuge.* He also informed me, that 



• The mode of parturition stated by the viper-catcher is generally 

 supposed to be a vulgar error. lie seemed, however, very confident 

 that he was right. May not the viper, like tlie lizard, be ovo-vivipa- 

 rous? Some naturalists are of the same opinion as the viper-catcher 

 mentioned, viz., that the eggs are hatched in the womb. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



■{jy letting vipers bite a piece of rag, and then suddenly 

 snatching it from their mouth, he easily extracted the 

 fangs, and that he then frequently put them between his 

 shirt and skin, and brought them away alive. 



Snakes are easily tamed, an instance of which is men- 

 tioned in Mr. White's Naturalists' Calendar; and there is 

 a stuffed specimen of a snake now in the Zoological Mu- 

 seum, which, when alive, was perfectly tame, and had 

 been eleven years in the possession of the gentleman who 

 presented it to that society, and to whom it showed a 

 strong attachment. Eton boys have always been great 

 tamers of snakes, and many anecdotes are related by them 

 of their attachment to their owners. 



Snakes, unlike the viper, are oviparous, and their eggs 

 are linked together in a sort of chain, and are each about 

 as big as a large marble. They feed on frogs, mice, cer- 

 tain insects, and also young birds. It is supposed by 

 some people that they destroy the eggs of partridges and 

 pheasants; and for this reason many gamekeepers make a 

 point of killing them. Snakes have sometimes been found 

 on the branches of trees, where they have contrived to get 

 in search of young birds. A person lately informed me 

 tliat he had found one in that situation. A snake has been 

 seen to swallow a newly-hatched chicken; and I once ob- 

 served one in the act of attempting to swallow a full- 

 grown frog. I was attracted to the spot by the cries of 

 the latter, which were very loud and piteous. The 

 snake made great efforts to get the frog down his throat, 

 which he at last succeeded in doing. By trampling on a 

 snake which has just swallowed a frog, the latter is easily 

 ejected from the stomach of the former. 



The fact of snakes annually casting their skin or slough 

 is very cui'ious. I have found the slough of one twisted 

 amongst some young quicksets in a hedge-row, and ap- 

 pearing perfectly fresh. Shakspeare seems to have been 

 aware of this. 



■ There the snake throws her enameird skin." 



MiDS. Night's Dream. 



The circumsiaaice of the slough being twisted in the way 

 I found it amongst some twigs, seems to prove that the 

 snake had not been able to rid liimself of it without having 

 recourse to something not very pliable which would assist 

 him in the operation, although Mr. White says that he had 

 found the slough in a field near a hedge. His account is 

 _ very agreeable. He says, "About the middle of this 

 m.onth, (September^) we found in a field, near a hedge, 

 ii jifthe slough of a large snake, which seemed to have been 

 newly cast. From circumstances it appeared to have been 

 drawn off backward, like a stocking, or woman's glove. 



Not only the whole skin, but the scales from the very- 

 eyes, were peeled off, and appeared in the head of tha 

 slough like a pair of spectacles. The reptile, at the time 

 of changing his coat, had entangled himself intricately in 

 the grass and weeds; so that the friction of the stalks 

 and blades might promote this curious shifting of his 

 exuviffi. 



'• Lubrica serpens 



"JExuit in spinis vesteni." — Ldceet. 



It would be a most entertaining sight could a person be 

 an eye-witness to such a feat, and see the snake in the 

 act of changing his garment. As the convexity of the 

 eyes in the slough is now inward, that circumstance alone 

 is a proof that the skin has been turned; not to mention 

 that now the present inside is much darker than the outer. 

 If you look through the scales of the snake's eyes from the 

 concave side, viz., as the reptile used them, they lessen 

 objects much. Thus it appears, from what has been said, 

 that snakes crawl out of the mouth of their own sloughs, 

 and quit the tail part last, just as eels are skinned by a 

 cookmaid. While the scales of the eyes are growing 

 loose, and a new skin is forming, the creature in appear- 

 ance must be blind, and feel itself in a very awkward and 

 uneasy situation." — Gleanings Nat. Hist. 



" Where the Bee 



Strays dihgent, and with th' extracted balm 



Of fragrant woodbine loada his little thigh." — Thomson. 



I HAVE some experiment hives which enable me very 

 accurately to inspect the operations of my Bees. From 

 the construction of the hives, the combs are necessarily- 

 built between two panes of glass, so that on drawing the 

 sliders the two surfaces of a comb are exposed to view. 

 In this way I am able to see almost every thing that is 

 going forward. 



When the Queen-Bee has an inclination to deposit her 

 eggs, she goes forth, accompanied by six or eight work- 

 ing Bees as a guard, and whose stomachs are filled with 

 honey. She is very deliberate in her motions, and seems 

 to proceed with great caution. She first looks into a cell, 

 and if she finds it perfectly emptj^, she draws up her long 

 body, inserts her tail into the cell, and deposits an egg. 

 In this way she slowly proceeds till she has dropped ten 

 or twelve eggs, when perhaps feeling exhausted, she is 

 fed by one of the attendant Bees, who have surrounded 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



her the whole time. This is done by the Bee ejecting 

 the honey from its stomacli into tlie mouth of the Queen. 

 When this has been done the Bee goes away, and another 

 takes its place. The operation of laying her eggs again 

 goes on, and is succeeded by the same mode of feeding — 

 the attendant Bees frequently touching the antennae of the 

 Queen with their own. When the operation of laying the 

 eggs is completed — and it generally occupies sometime — 

 the Queen retires to that part of the hive which is most 

 filled with Bees. During her progress, the surface of the 

 comb is very little intruded upon, and the space seems 

 purposely to be left unoccupied. Some few of the cells, 

 however, in a brood comb are passed over by the Queen, 

 and are afterwards filled either with honey or farina. 

 These serve as deposits of food, from which the neigh- 

 bouring brood may be fed more readily, as such cells are 

 never covered with wax. 



With the hives referred to I have been able to follow 

 many of Huber's experiments, and can bear witness to his 

 general accuracy, except in regard to the fecundation of 

 the Queen-Bee. I have bestowed much time and pains in 

 endeavouring to discover any of the circumstances he men- 

 tions relating to this fact, but without success. Neither 

 have I ever seen a cell visited by one of the drones after 

 the egg had been deposited, which a modern writer has 

 asserted they do. I have for many years watched my 

 hives with the greatest care and assiduity, but have never 

 yet seen the Queen-Bee leave the hive, except at the time 

 of swarming. I have also spoken to several experienced 

 Bee-masters on the subject, and they are of the same 

 opinion with myself — that she never quits it. Her per- 

 son is so easily distinguished from the other Bees, by any 

 one at all conversant with them, that if the Queen ab- 

 sented herself from the hive, in the way Huber describes 

 her as doing, it seems next to impossible that she should 

 not have been perceived, either on her departure from, or 

 on her return to the hive. It is, however, with conside- 

 rable diffidence that one would venture to doubt the ac- 

 curacy of any statement of Huber's, especially when the 

 objection turns, not upon a contradictory circumstance, but 

 upon what myself and others have not been able to dis- 

 cover. 



Wax is a secretion formed under the scales of the back 

 of the insect, from which I have repeatedly seen it exfo- 

 liate in small flakes. A considerable degree of heat ap- 

 pears to be necessary to produce this secretion, .as I have 

 always observed it most frequent in hot weather. Other 

 writers have maintained tliat the wax is discharged from 

 the abdominal rings or segments of the Bees. This may 

 be also the case, but I have never perceived it. 



The vision of Bees seems very imperfect. I have fre- 



quently turned a hive, so as to make the entrance about 

 two or three inches from its former position, and have 

 then always found the Bees at a loss to gain admittance. 

 Indeed they seem more to feel their way than to see it, 

 after they have once landed themselves on the board of 

 their hives. Their progress through the air is always 

 made in a direct line to the hive, and the instinct which 

 enables them to find it, amongst forty or fifty others placed in 

 a row, and nearly similar to each other, is very striking. 



Mr. Rogers, in his " Pleasures of Memory," has a 

 pretty idea on this subject: — 



" The varied scents that charm'd her as she flew," 



he thinks might point out the way of her return to the 

 hive. 



Wasps appear to have a better vision than Bees, though 

 it is not easy to assign a reason for this being the case, 

 since the construction of the eyes of both insects seems to 

 be similar. Derham, in his Physico-theology, has ob- 

 served in -regard to the eye of the Bee and wasp, " that 

 the cornea and optic nerves being always at one and the 

 same distance, are fitted only to see distant objects, 

 and not such as are very nigh, and that the eye will be 

 found on examination to form a curious lattice-work of 

 several thousand hexagonal lenses, each having a separate 

 optic nerve ministering to it, and therefore to be consider- 

 ed as a distinct eye." Wasps, however, certainly seem to 

 alight at the entrance of their nests with more accuracy 

 than Bees. I have frequently observed this to be the 

 case, even when the hole of a wasp's nest has been in a 

 grass field, surrounded with long grass. They alight at 

 it with the greatest precision, seldom or never going even 

 half an inch either on one side or the other of it, and they 

 do this even late in the evening. 



A hive of Bees which have been once much exaspe- 

 rated, do not soon forget the injury. This was the case 

 with one of my hives, the Bees of which never allowed 

 me for two years to come near them while they were 

 working, without attacking me, though a neighbouring 

 hive would allow me to take almost any liberties with it 

 with impunity. Indeed I had familiarized myself so 

 much with some of my Bees, that I am convinced they 

 knew me, and they always appeared to distinguish me 

 from strangers. By constantly standing before the mouth 

 of the hive, and allowing vast numbers to fly about and 

 settle upon me, and by frequently feeding them, they be- 

 came so well acquainted with me, that I had much plea-, 

 sure in witnessing their attachment, and the confidence 

 they placed in me. This aflection was mutual, and I al- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



waj's think with pleasure of themany agreeablehoursl have 

 passed in company with my Bees. Those only can judge 

 of this, who, like myself, have witnessed their assiduity, 

 their internal labours, their affection for their Queen, and 

 all the various modes they take in promoting the prospe- 

 rity of the community. I always listen to the pleasing 

 hum of Bees with delight, and know of few sounds more 

 soothing and agreeable. 



" Then, cheerful Bee, come, freely come, 

 And travel round my woodbine bower ! 

 Delight me with thy wandering hum, 

 And rouse me from my musmg hour; 

 Oh I try no more tliose tedious fields, 

 Come taste the sweets my garden yields : 

 The treasures of each blooming mine, 

 The bud— the blossom— all arc thine." 



In some papers published a few years ago, I endea- 

 voured to point out the great cruelty of procuring honey 

 by the suffocation of Bees, and the advantage which the 

 Bee-owner would derive from contenting himself with a 

 part only of their stores. This may be done by placing a 

 small hive glass, or even a flowerpot, on the top of each 

 hive in April or May. These should be of a size to hold 

 about eight or ten pounds' weight of honey; and in a 

 tolerably good season they will generally be filled, leaving 

 a sufficient stock of honey for the Bees to subsist upon 

 till the following spring. I am happy to find that this 

 method is more generally practised than it formerly was. 

 By adopting it, the lives of thousands of these industrious 

 insects would be saved; the profits of the Bee-owner would 

 be much more considerable, and his stock of Bees annu- 

 ally increased. 



The summer of the year 1818, was unusually dry and 

 hot, and in July flowers of almost every description had 

 entirely disappeared. I observed that Bees, in conse- 

 quence of this, seldom left their hives in search of honey, 

 though the weather, one would have thought, would have 

 tempted them out. They seemed, indeed, to be perfect- 

 ly aware that their labours would be useless. I recollect 

 meeting with an account of a hive of Bees being trans- 

 ported from a distant place, to a spot by the side of a 

 mountain in Italy, where they could procure honey all the 

 year round. Finding this to be the case, they soon gave 

 up stocking their hive, and only went out to collect honey 

 as they wanted it. The same observation has been made 

 on Bees taken out to the West Indies, who the first year 

 stored their hive as usual, and never afterwards, merely 

 supplying themselves with food from day to day. 



[Ibid. 

 Y Y y 



THE MOLE. 



" Tread softly, that the blind Mole may not 



Hear a foot fell; we now are near his cell." Shakspeaee. 



The Mole-hills which we see in fields and meadows 

 are thrown up by the Mole probably during its search for 

 food. Little was known of the natural history of this ani- 

 mal, till a French naturalist, M. St. Hilaire, published 

 lately some interesting particulars respecting it. The Mole 

 forms several under-ground passages; and the way she 

 proceeds in doing this is as follows: — she first makes a 

 run in various directions, by undermining the ground, 

 and unites this and several others at one point, making, 

 however, some of them larger than the others. M. St. 

 Hilaire says, that she finishes by arranging them with the 

 most perfect symmetry, plastering the sides with great 

 care; and when completed, it may be called her encamp- 

 ment. In the centre of these works she establishes her- 

 self, and appropriates a separate place to the reception of 

 her young, which is in some respects differently construct- 

 ed from her own. In order to render the respective ha- 

 bitations which she and her young occupy not liable to be 

 injured by the rain, she makes them almost even with the 

 ground, and higher up than the runs, which serve as 

 drains, or channels, to carry off the water. She makes 

 choice of the place of her abode with the greatest care, 

 sometimes constructing it at the foot of a wall, or near a 

 hedge or a tree, where it has the less chance of being bro- 

 ken in. This abode is sometimes protected by having a 

 quantity of earth thrown over it, especially in light soils, 

 where I have seen a mound almost large enough to fill a 

 wheelbarrow. Sometimes, however, no earth is thrown 

 up over the habitation. This precaution of the Mole is 

 very necessary, to prevent the places she has chosen for 

 retreats for herself and her young from being trampled in. 

 When a Mole has occasion to make her run through a 

 gateway, I have observed that she generally carries it as 

 near as possible to the gate-post, where it is less likely to 

 be injured. Some runs are so near the surface, that I 

 have seen the ground crack during the animal's progress 

 in working them. The bed for the young is composed 

 of the blades of wheat, with which the Mole forms a sort 

 of mattress. Fourhundred and two of them were counted in 

 one nest, and all so fresh in their appearance, that they had 

 been probably collected by this animal in the course of 

 two or three days. This shows not only her extraor- 

 dinary industry, but the great depredation she must 

 commit. 



The Mole is never known to work for food near the 

 place which she has fixed upon for her abode. She labours 




274 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



to procure it about two hours in the morning, and as many 

 in the evening, and then returns to her home or resting- 

 place, which is so constructed, that she is instantly made 

 aware of any danger. This effect is produced by form- 

 ing the upper runs in a sort of circle, so as to communi- 

 cate a vibration when any thing passes over them. The 

 Mole then takes alarm, and escapes by one of her safety 

 runs. 



The Mole is not often seen on the surface of the earth. 

 I once, however, caught one, and turned it loose upon a 

 lawn, the turf of which was on a bed of strong gravel, and 

 particularly hard and dry. Notwithstanding these disad- 

 vantages, the Mole contrived to bury itself almost in an 

 instant, working into the earth by means of her snout and 

 fins, (for they can hardly be called feet,) so fast, that the 

 ground seemed to yield to her mere pressure. 



The power of smelling in the mole is very acute; and 

 it is supposed that this sense serves to direct her in the 

 search of her food. She hunts after beetles and worms, 

 which last she pursues eagerly, but not always success- 

 fully; for the earth-worm is aware of its danger, and quick 

 in escaping from it. Her search for prey taking place in 

 the morning and evening, when birds are more generally 

 on their feed, must be the means of contributing greatly 

 to their subsistence by driving worms to the surface of the 

 earth, and furnishes another striking proof that the 

 "fowls of the air" have their food provided by an Al- 

 mighty and superintending Providence in a variety of 

 ways. 



Le Court, who assisted M. St. Hilaire in his observa- 

 tions, and who appears to have been a sort of philosophi- 

 cal ISIole-catcher, was surprised when the naturalist ex- 

 pressed a doubt as to the Mole seeing. He informed 

 him that, in swimming rivers, they habitually guide them- 

 selves by their sight; but, in order to satisfy M. St. Hi- 

 laire on this point, he contrived the following experiment 

 with him: — They made two openings in a dry tiled drain, 

 at one of which several Moles were successively intro- 

 duced. Le Court took his stand at the other. If he stood 

 quite still, the Mole soon came out and escaped; but if, 

 at the moment in which she showed herself at the hole, he 

 moved only his thumb, she stopped and turned back. By 

 repeating this as often as she re-appeared, the Mole was 

 kept imprisoned in the drain. 



There has been a very general idea amongst our INIole- 

 catchers, that if the smallest drop of blood is taken from 

 a mole, it occasions instant death. Le Court seems to ac- 

 count for this opinion in speaking of the fights which 

 take place between the male Moles, by saying, that if 

 one is ever so slightly wounded in a vein near the ear, 

 the wound is mortal. 



In order to ascertain the rate at which a Mole moved, 

 he put in practice the following curious experiment: — 

 He placed some slight sticks, with a little flag at the top of 

 them, in the run of a Mole, which he had previously as- 

 certained by tracing it to be of considerable length, and 

 along which the Mole passed and repassed four times a 

 day in search of food. These sticks were placed at cer- 

 tain intervals in the run, so that if the Mole touched 

 them, the flag would instantly show it. He then intro- 

 duced a horn at one extremity of the run, and blowing 

 it loudly, frightened the animal; and she then went 

 along the run at such a rate, moving the flags in her 

 passage, that Le Court and his friends, who were sta- 

 tioned at intervals along the run to assist in the ob- 

 servation, considered that she went as fast as a horse could 

 trot at its greatest speed. 



Hunger in the Mole is thought to be a more violent 

 feeling than fear; and its appetite is singularly voracious. 

 If it sees a bird near, it quits its hole — approaches as if 

 to attack it; and if the bird pecks it, the Mole retires 

 towards its hole, and tempts the bird to follow. She 

 then watches her opportunity — darts upon it — seizes 

 it by the belly, which she tears open, assisting herself 

 for this purpose with her flaps, and, thrusting her head 

 into it, devours it. She drinks as greedily as she eats. 

 The Mole does not, like the mouse, lay up a store of 

 food, as she preys on worms, and various kinds of in- 

 sects: she will also eat frogs, but will not touch a toad 

 if ever so hungry. A Mole was tried with eggs and 

 oysters, but refused to eat either. They will, however, 

 eat fruit, and, Bufibn says, acorns. If two Moles are shut 

 up together without food, the strongest will devour the 

 weakest, even to the bones: nothing but the skin is left, 

 which they never eat, and which, when one has killed 

 the other, is always seen to be ripped up along the 

 belly. It was found that ten or twelve hours was the 

 longest time they could live without food. This fact 

 seems to prove that the Mole is not torpid in frosty 

 weather, which Linnseus asserted she was. It is known 

 that, in such seasons, worms, ants, and the larvse of 

 cock-chafers and beetles, penetrate deep into the ground. 

 It is probable, therefore, that the runs of the Mole 

 made in search of food are regulated, as to their depth, 

 by the habits of the grubs on which she feeds. One 

 would suppose, from the texture of its fur, which is 

 particularly short and thick, that the Mole is not very sus- 

 ceptible of cold. Indeed, its whole formation is ad- 

 mirably adapted to its mode of life. 



It has been said, that the Mole, when the ground 

 which it frequents is flooded, will climb up trees. 

 This, however, seems to be unnecessary, as I have 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



seen it swim with perfect ease, which indeed Le Court 

 had also observed lb. 



STUDY OF NATURE. 



There is a principle in the human mind, which, of it- 

 self, if it be allowed fair play, obliges j-ou to be impressed 

 agreeably hy the sight of a fine waterfall, the picturesque- 

 -less of an aged oak or time-worn ash, the shade of woods, 

 the gurgle of streams, the sounds of the ocean wave, as it 

 murmurs on shelving sands, or talks in thunder on rocks 

 and precipices. These, and other general components of 

 nature, have only to be seen or heard, that they may come 

 home with power and effect to the mind. When I see a 

 chain of mountains rearing their summits to the clouds, do 

 I not immediately pronounce it to be a sublime object; 

 and that, without any one idea intervening between the 

 moment of sight and the moment of feeling? When a per- 

 son for the first time beholds the ocean, is he not wrapt 

 in astonishment, and awed by its grandeur, independent- 

 ly of anyassociation of ideas? If to-day I admire the 5eaw/y 

 of the cool, transparent, glassy flow of a river, and if to- 

 morrow I behold it swollen to twenty times its usual mag- 

 nitude, the water changed by a heavy night's rain to a 

 dark brown colour, and the rolling flood dashing with in- 

 cessant roar over " foamy steeps," or sweeping down its 

 more level channel, boiling and flashing in its progress to 

 the main, am I not at once impressed with the sublimity 

 of the spectacle? or must I first think of flooded fields, or 

 drowned cattle, or swept-away bridges, or undermined 

 trees and banks? Surely not; the very first glance of the 

 vexed torrent excites the feeling as instantaneously as a 

 spark explodes gunpowder. I require no associations, no 

 preparatory thinking; but a sentiment of sublimity and 

 grandeur at the sight is at once called up, I know not how; 

 but I am satisfied that it is neither artificial nor acquired. 

 I believe the feeling of the sublime and beautiful in nature 

 to be truly innate, and that its great value lies in its ele- 

 vating our thoughts to the Deity himself. And how nu- 

 merous are the lovers of general nature, in obedience to 

 this innate feeling! How full of poetry, that language of 

 heaven, is nature in all her amplitudes! and how indeli- 

 bly rooted is the recollection of her scenes! how faith- 

 fully do they remain as they first fixed their impressure 

 on the young mind! and how permanently do they con- 

 tinue to call up sensations of pleasure and delight! 



" O nature ! woods, winds, music, valleys, hills, 

 And gushing brooks ! — in you there is a voice 



Of potency — an utterance which instils 



Light, life, and freshness, bidding man rejoice 



As with a spirit's transport : from the noise, 



The hum of busy towns, to you I fly : 



Ye were my earliest nurses, my first choice — 



Let me not idly hope, nor vainly sigh ; 



Whisper once more of peace— joys— years long vanished by." 



But if the great features of nature be so impressive, 

 how much is to be found in her minuter details when 

 they come to be investigated. If a writer mention a forest, 

 a cataract, a storm, a calm, a desert, or a paradise, and 

 adapt his language to the object, all understand, and all 

 are pleased, or delighted, or instructed, in proportion as 

 he exhibits genius and truth. And when we examine the 

 minuter parts of creation, they also can excite no little ad- 

 miration, while they give a deeper, and more certain and 

 solid knowledge of the power and goodness of God. The 

 catalogue of the great features, too, is in comparison 

 limited; while in the minuter departments, the number of 

 organized beings, of geological, physiological, and other 

 phenomena of the highest interest, are absolutely not to 

 be numbered. And here there seems to me to be a wide 

 and material distinction. The great forms of nature every 

 one is impressed with from a constitutional innate feeling. 

 The lesser are left to man himself to investigate, by his 

 own research and the exercise of his understanding: they 

 are innumerable; and we every where in them find an in- 

 comprehensible wisdom directing to certain useful ends, 

 and unfolding a knowledge not only of the things, but of 

 the mighty Being whose work they are. Let it not then 

 besupposed, that the studyingandcollectinganimal, vegeta- 

 ble, or mineral productions is a trifling occupation; for 

 however general that opinion may be, it is as erroneous as 

 it is vulgar. — Letters to a Young Naturalist. 



SUBTERRANEOUS AND OMINOUS SOUNDS. 



In a former volume of the Journal, we communicated 

 some curious details in regard to what have been called 

 subterranean and ominous sounds. Sir Sohn Herschell 

 has lately considered this subject, and conjectures that 

 the noises of Nakoos, in Arabia, may be owing to a sub- 

 terraneous production of steam, by the generation and 

 condensation of which, under certain circumstances, 

 sounds are well known to be produced. They belong to 

 the same class of phenomena as the combustion of a jet of 

 hydrogen gas in glass tubes. He also remarks, that 

 wherever extensive subterraneous caverns exist, commu- 

 nicating with each other, or with the atmosphere, bj' 




276 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



means of small orifices, considerable differences of tempe- 

 rature may occasion currents of air to pass through those 

 apertures with sufficient velocity for producing sonorous 

 vibrations. The sounds described by Humboldt, as heard 

 at sunrise, by those who sleep on certain granitic rocks, 

 on the banks of the Orinoco, may be explained on this 

 principle. The sounds produced at sunrise, by the statue 

 of Memnon, and the twang, like the breaking of a string, 

 heard by the French naturalists to proceed from a granite 

 mountain at Carnac, are viewed by him as referable to a 

 different cause, viz. to pyrometric expansions and contrac- 

 tions of the heterogeneous material of which the statue 

 and mountain consist. Similar sounds, and from the same 

 cause, are emitted when heat is applied to any connected 

 mass of machinery; and the snapping often heard in the 

 bars of a grate affords a familiar example of this pheno- 

 menon. The following amusing account of an ominous 

 sound is given by Gairdner in his book on the "Music of 

 Nature:" — In one of the baronial castles of the north, 

 which has been uninhabited for years, there were heard 

 at times such extraordinary noises, as to confirm the 

 opinion among the country people that the place was 

 haunted. In the western tower an old couple were per- 

 mitted to live, who had been in the service of the former 

 lord, but so imbued were they with the superstitions of 

 the country, that they never went to bed without expect- 

 ing to hear the cries of the disturbed spirits of the man- 

 sion. An old story was current, that an heir-apparent 

 had been murdered by an uncle, that he might possess the 

 estate, who, however, after enjoying it for a time, was so 

 annoyed by the sounds in the castle, that he retired with 

 an uneasy conscience from the domain, and died in France. 

 Not many years ago, the property descended to a branch 

 of the female line, (one of the heroes of Waterloo,) who, 

 nothing daunted, was determined to make this castle his 

 place of residence. As the noises were a subject of real 

 terror to his tenantry, he formed the resolution of sleep- 

 ing in the castle on the night he took possession, in order 

 to do away these superstitious fears. Not a habitable 

 room could be found, except the one occupied by the 

 old gardener and his wife in the western turret, and he 

 ordered his camp-bed to be set up in that apartment. It 

 was in the autumn, at nightfall, that he repaired to the 

 gloomy abode, leaving his servant, to his no small com- 

 fort, at the village inn; and after having found every 

 thing comfortably provided, turned the large old rusty 

 key upon the antiquated pair, who took leave of him to 

 lodge at a farm hard by. It was one of those nights 

 which are chequered with occasional gleams of moon- 

 shine and darkness, when the clouds are riding in a high 

 wind. He slept well for the two first hours; he was then 



wakened by a low mournful sound that ran through the 

 apartments. This warned him to be up and accoutred. 

 He descended the turret stairs with a brilliant light, which, 

 on coming to the ground floor, cast a gigantic shadow of 

 himself upon the high embattled walls. Here he stood 

 and listened, when presently a hollow moan ran through 

 the long corridor, and died away. This was followed by 

 one of a higher key, a sort of scream, which directed his 

 footsteps with more certainty to the spot. Pursuing the 

 sounds, he found himself in the hall of his ancestors, and 

 vaulting upon the large oaken table, set down his lamp, and 

 folding his cloak about him, determined to wait for the 

 appearance of all that was terrible. The night, which had 

 been stormy, became suddenly still; the dark flitting 

 clouds had sunk below the horizon, and the moon insinu- 

 ated her silvery light through the chinks of the moulder- 

 ing pile. As our hero had spent the morning in the chase, 

 Morpheus came unbidden, and he fell asleep upon the 

 table. His dream was short; for close upon him issued 

 forth the horid groan; amazed, he started up and sprang 

 at the unseen voice, fixing, with a powerful blow, his To- 

 ledo steel in the arras. The blade was fast, and held him 

 to the spot. At this moment the moon shot a ray that illu- 

 mined the hall, and showed that behind the waving folds 

 there lay the cause concealed. His sword he left, and to 

 the turret retraced his steps. When morning came, a 

 welcome crowd greeting, asked if he had met the ghost? 

 " yes I" replied the knight, " dead as a door nail be- 

 hind the screen he lies, where my sword has pinned him 

 fast; bring the wrenching bar and we'll haul the disturber 

 out." With such a leader, and broad day to boot, the 

 valiant throng tore down the screen where the sword 

 was fixed, when lo! in a recess, lay the fragments of a 

 chapel organ, and the square wooden trunks made for 

 hallowed sounds were used as props to stay the work 

 when the hall was coated round with oak. The wonder- 

 ing clowns now laughed aloud at the mysterious voice. It 

 was the northern blast that found its way through the 

 crannies of the wall to the groaning pipes, that alarmed 

 the country round for a century. — Edin. Phil. Jour. 



OBESITY. 



The celebrated y?// liver pies of Strasburgh are made 

 of the livers of geese, fattened with great attention. The 

 animal is shut up in a cage, but little larger than its body, 

 and is taken out but twice a day, and then to be fed with 

 about a quart of crude peas. They are introduced with a 

 finger into the pharynx of the animal, which is thus made 






AND AMERICAiN RURAL SPORTS. 



to swallow this enormous quantity of nourishment, and is 

 then immediately shut up in its cage. The immediate 

 result of this kind of life is a remarkable obesity, and an 

 enormous development of the liver, which, without any 

 notable change of structure, acquired a triple or quadru- 

 ple enlargement of volume. Bibulous paper brought into 

 close contact with this fat liver, immediately absorbs an 

 oily matter, much like melted fat. These livers some- 

 times weigh eight or ten ounces, and sell at from three to 

 five francs. The fattening of geese in this manner is a 

 good speculation, for every part of the animal possesses 

 an intrinsic value; the fat on many occasions is a substi- 

 tute for butter, and the flesh is served at table, and although 

 somewhat tough, is not the less nutritious; the feathers 

 are much sought after, the quills serve for writing, and 

 even the excrements sell at a high price as one of the 

 richest of manures. — lb. 



BELTED KINGSFISHER. 



JILCEDO ALCYON. 



[Plate XXIV. Vol. 2.] 



Bartram, p. 289. — TuRTON, p. 278. — Mcedo Mcyon, 

 Linn. Syst. ed. 10, vol.i. 115. — Gmel. Syst. i. 451. — 

 Lath. Ind. Orn. 257. — Catesby, i. 60. — Buff. FL 

 Enl. 593 — 715. — J. Dotjghty's Collection. 



This is a general inhabitant of the banks and shores 

 of all our fresh-water rivers, from Hudson's Bay to Mexi- 

 co; and is the only species of its tribe found within the 

 United States. This last circumstance, and its character- 

 istic appearance, make it as universally known here, as 

 its elegant little brother, the common Kingsfisher of Eu- 

 rope, is in Britain. Like the love-lorn swains, of whom 

 poets tell us, he delights in murmuring streams and fall- 

 ing waters; not, however, merely that they may soothe 

 his ear, but for a gratification more substantial. Amidst 

 the roar of the cataract, or over the foam of a torrent, he 

 sits perched upon an overhanging bough, glancing his 

 piercing eye in every direction below for his seal}' prey, 

 which, with a sudden circular plunge, he sweeps from 

 their native element, and swallows in an instant. His 

 voice, which is not unlike the twirling of a watchman's 

 rattle, is naturally loud, harsh, and sudden; but is soften- 

 ed by the sound of the brawling streams and cascades 

 among which he generally rambles. He courses along the 

 windings of the brook or river, at a small height above 

 Zzz 



the surface, sometimes suspending himself by the rapid 

 action of his wings, like certain species of hawks, ready 

 to pounce on the fry below; now and then settling on an 

 old dead overhanging limb to reconnoitre. Mill-dams 

 are particularly visited by this feathered fisher; and the 

 sound of his pipe is as well known to the miller as the 

 rattling of his own hopper. Rapid streams, with high 

 perpendicular banks, particularly if they be of a hard 

 clayey or sandy nature, are also favourite places of resort 

 for this bird; not only because in such places the small 

 fish are more exposed to view, but because those steep and 

 dry banks are the chosen situations for his nest. Into 

 these he digs with bill and claws, horizontally, sometimes 

 to the extent of four or five feet, at the distance of a foot 

 or two from the surface. The few materials he takes in are 

 not always placed at the extremity of the hole, that he and 

 his mate may have room to turn with convenience. The 

 eggs are five, pure white, and the first brood usually comes 

 out about the beginning of June, and sometimes sooner, 

 according to that part of the country where they reside. 

 On the shores of Kentucky river, near the town of Frank- 

 fort, I found the female sitting early in April. They are 

 very tenacious of their haunts, breeding for several suc- 

 cessive years in the same hole, and do not readily forsake 

 it, even though it be visited. An intelligent young gen- 

 tleman informed me, that having found where a Kings- 

 fisher built, he took away its eggs, from time to time, 

 leaving always one behind, until he had taken no less than 

 eighteen from the same nest. At some of these visits, the 

 female being within, retired to the extremity of the hole 

 while he withdrew the egg, and next day, when he re- 

 turned, he found she had laid again as usual. 



The fabulous stories related by the ancients of the nest, 

 manner of hatching, &c., of the Kingsfisher, are too trifling 

 to be repeated here. Over the winds and the waves the 

 humble Kingsfisher of our days, at least, the species now 

 before us, has no control. Its nest is neither constructed 

 of glue nor fish-bones; but of loose grass and a few feathers. 

 It is not thrown on the surface of the water to float about, 

 with its proprietor, at random; but snugly secured from 

 the winds and the weather in the recesses of the earth; 

 neither is its head or its feathers believed, even by the 

 most illiterate of our clowns or seamen, to be a cha'-m for 

 love, a protection against witchcraft, or a security for fair 

 weather. It is neither venerated like those of the So- 

 ciety isles, nor dreaded like those of some other countries; 

 but is considered merely as a bird that feeds on fish; is 

 generally fat; relished by some as good eating; and is now 

 and then seen exposed for sale in our markets. 



Though the Kingsfisher generally remains with us, in 

 Pennsylvania, until the commencement of cold weather, 




278 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



it is seldom seen here in winter; but returns to us early 

 in April. In North and South Carolina, I observed num- 

 bers of these birds in the months of February and March. 

 I also frequently noticed them on the shores of the 

 Ohio, in February, as high up as the mouth of the Musk- 

 ingum. 



I suspect this bird to be a native of the Bahama islands, 

 as well as of our continent. In passing between these 

 isles and the Florida shore, in the month of July, a Kings- 

 fisher flew several times round our ship, and afterwards 

 shot off to the south.* 



The length of this species is twelve inches and a half, 

 extent twenty; back and whole upper parts a light bluish 

 slate colour; round the neck is a collar of pure white, 

 which reaches before to the chin; head large, crested, the 

 feathers long and narrow, black in the centre, and gene- 

 rally erect; the shafts of all the feathers, except the white 

 plumage, are black; belly and vent white; sides under the 

 wings variegated with blue; round the upper part of the 

 breast passes a band of blue, interspersed with some light 

 brown feathers; before the eye is a small spot of white, 

 and another immediately below it; the bill is three inches 

 long, from the point to the slit of the mouth, strong, 

 sharp pointed, and black, except near the base of the lower 

 mandible, and at the tip, where it is of a horn colour; pri- 

 maries, and interior webs of the secondaries, black, spot- 

 ted with white; the interior vanes of the tail feathers ele- 

 gantly spotted with white on a jet black ground; lower 

 side light coloured; exterior vanes blue; wing-coverts and 

 secondaries marked with small specks of white; legs ex- 

 tremely short; when the bird perches it generally rests 

 on the lower side of the second joint, which is thereby 

 thick and callous; claws stout and black; whole leg of a 

 dirty j'ellowish colour; above the knee bare of feathers 

 for half an inch; the two exterior toes united together for 

 nearly their whole length. 



The female is sprinkled all over with specks of white; 

 the band of blue around the upper part of the breast is 

 nearly half reddish brown; and a little below this passes a 

 band of bright reddish bay, spreading on each side under 

 the wings. The blue and rufous feathers on the breast 

 are strong like scales. The head is also of a much darker 

 blue than the back; and the white feathers on the 

 chin and throat of an exquisite fine glossy texture, like the 

 most beautiful satin. — ^Wilson. 



* On the 25th of April last, a like circumstance occurred. While a 

 passenger in the Brig General Sumter, from Charleston to Norfolk, 

 lat. 35 long. 76, I noticed a Kingsfislier settle on the end of the fly- 

 ing gib-boom of the brig, where it remained about ten minutes, and 

 then took its departure to the eastward with the same quietness as 

 when it came. — Ed . 



BUFFEL-HEADED DUCK. 



JINJIS ALBEOLA. 



[Plate XXIV. Vol. 2.] 



La Sarcelle de la Louisiane, Briss. vi. p. 461, pi. 41, 

 Jig. 1. — Le petit Canard a. grosse tcte, Burr. ix. p. 

 249. — B-Dw.pl. 100. — Arct. Zool. No. 4S7. — Catesbt, 

 I. 95. — Lath. Si/n. iii. p. 533. — Le Canard d'/iyver, 

 Briss. vi. p. 349; La sarcelle de la Caroline, Id. p. 

 464. — J. Doughty's Collection. 



This pretty little species, usually known by the name 

 of the Butter-box, or Butter-hall, is common to the sea- 

 shores, rivers and lakes of the United States, in every 

 quarter of the country, during autumn and winter. About 

 the middle of April, or early in May, they retire 

 to the north to breed. They are dexterous divers, and 

 fly with extraordinary velocity. So early as the latter 

 part of February the males are observed to have violent 

 disputes for the females; at this time they are more com- 

 monly seen in flocks; but during the preceding part of 

 winter they usually fly in pairs. Their note is a short 

 quack. They feed much on shell fish, shrimps, &c. They 

 are sometimes exceedingly fat; though their flesh is infe- 

 rior to many others for the table. The male exceeds the 

 female in size, and greatly in beauty of plumage. 



The Buffcl-headed Duck, or rather as it has originally 

 been, the Buffalo-headed Duck, from the disproportion- 

 ate size of its head, is fourteen inches long, and twenty- 

 three inches in extent; the bill is short, and of a light 

 blue or leaden colour; the plumage of the head and half of 

 the neck is thick, long and velvetty, projecting greatly 

 over the lower part of the neck; this plumage on the 

 forehead and nape is rich glossy green changing into a 

 shining purple on the crown and sides of the neck; from 

 the eyes backward passes a broad band of pure white; 

 iris of the eye dark; back, wings, and part of the scapu- 

 lars, black; rest of the scapulars, lateral band along the 

 wing, and whole breast, snowy white; belly, vent, and 

 tail coverts, dusky white, tail pointed, and of a hoary 

 colour. 



The female is considerably less than the male, and en- 

 tirely destitute of the tumid plumage of the head; the 

 head, neck, and upi)er parts of the body and wings, are 

 sooty black, darkest on the crown; side of the head 

 marked with a small oblong spot of white, bill dusky; 

 lower part of the neck ash, tipt with white; belly dull 

 white; vent cinerous; outer edges of six of the seconda- 

 ries and their incumbent coverts, white, except the tips 

 of the latter, which are black; legs and feet a livid blue; 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



279 



tail hoary brown; length of the intestines three feet six 

 inches; stomach filled with small shell fish. This is the 

 Spirit Duck of Pennant, so called from its dexterity in 

 diving, (Arct. Zool. No. 487,) likewise the Little Brown 

 Duck of Catesby, (Nat. Hist. Car. pi. 98.) 



This species is said to come into Hudson's Bay about 

 Severn River in June, and make their nests in trees in the 

 woods near ponds. The young males during the first year 

 are almost exactly like the females in colour. — lb. 



WILD ANIMALS IN THE ILLINOIS COUNTRY. 



The buffalo has entirely left us. Before the country 

 was settled, immense prairies afforded pasturage to large 

 herds of this animal, and the traces of them are still re- 

 maining in the " bufialo paths," which are to be seen in 

 several parts of the state. These are well beaten tracts, 

 leading generally from the prairies in the interior of the 

 state, to the margins of the large rivers; showing the course 

 of their migrations as they changed their pastures periodi- 

 cally from the low marshy alluvium to the dry upland 

 plains. In the heat of summer they would be driven 

 from the latter by the prairie flies; in the autumn they 

 would be expelled from the former by the mosquitoes; in 

 the spring the grass of the plains would afford abundant 

 pasturage, while the herds could enjoy the warmth of the 

 sun, and snuff the breeze that sweeps so freely over them; 

 in the winter, the rich cane on the river banks, which is 

 an evergreen, would furnish food, while the low grounds, 

 thickly covered with brush and forest, would afford pro- 

 tection from the bleak winds. I know few subjects more 

 interesting than the migration of wild animals, connect- 

 ing, as it does, the singular display of brute instinct, with 

 a wonderful exhibition of the various supplies which 

 nature has supplied for the support of animal life, under 

 an endless variety of circumstances. These paths are 

 narrow, and remarkably direct, showing that the animals 

 travelled in single file through the woods, and pursued 



the most direct course to their places of destination. 



Dee7- are more abundant than at the first settlement of the 

 countrjr. They increase to a certain extent, with the 

 population. The reason of this appears to be, that they 

 find protection in the neighbourhood of man, from the 

 beasts of prey that assail them in the wilderness, and from 

 whose attacks, their young particularly can with difficulty 

 escape. They suffer most from the wolves, who hunt 

 in packs like hounds, and who seldom give up the chase 

 until a deer is taken. We have often sat, on a moonlight 

 summer night, at the door of a log-cabin on one of our 



prairies, and heard the wolves in full chase of a deer, 

 yelling very nearly in the same manner as a pack of 

 hounds. Sometimes the cry would be heard at a great 

 distance over the plain; then it would die away, and again 

 be distinguished at a nearer point, and in another direc- 

 tion; now the full cry would burst upon us from a neigh- 

 bouring thicket, and we would almost hear the sobs of the 

 exhausted deer; and again it would be born away, and lost 

 in the distance. We have passed nearly whole nights in 

 listening to such sounds; and once we saw a deer dash 

 through the yard, and immediately pass the door at which 

 we sat, followed by his audacious pursuers, who were 

 but a few yards in his rear. Immense numbers of deer 

 are killed every year by our hunters, who take them for 

 their hams and skins alone, throwing away the rest of the 

 carcass. Venison hams and hides are important articles of 

 export: the former are purchased from the hunters at 

 25 cents a pair, the latter at 20 cents a pound. In our 

 villages we purchase for our tables the saddle of venison, 

 with the hams attached, for 374 cents, which would be 

 something like one cent a pound. There are several ways 

 of hunting deer, all of which are equally simple. Most 

 generally the hunter proceeds to the woods on horseback, 

 in the day-time, selecting particularly certain hours, 

 which are thought to be most favourable. It is said, that 

 during the season when the pastures are green, this ani- 

 mal rises from his lair precisely at the rising of the moon, 

 whether in the day or night; and I suppose the fact to be 

 so, because such is the testimony of experienced hunters. 

 If it be true, it is certainly a curious display of animal in- 

 stinct. This hour is therefore always kept in view by 

 the hunter, as he rides slowly through the forest, with his 

 rifle on his shoulder, while his keen eye penetrates the 

 surrounding shades. On beholding a deer, the hunter 

 slides from his horse, and, while the deer is observing the 

 latter, creeps upon him, keeping the largest trees between 

 himself and the object of pursuit, until he gets near enough 

 to fire. An expert woodsman seldom fails to hit his game. 

 It is extremely dangerous to approach a wounded deer. 

 Timid and harmless as this animal is, at other times, he 

 no sooner finds himself deprived of the power of flight, 

 than he becomes furious, and rushes upon his enemy, 

 making desperate plunges with his sharp horns, and 

 striking and trampling furiously with his fore-legs, which, 

 being extremely muscular, and armed with sharp hoofs, 

 are capable of inflicting very severe wounds. Aware of 

 this circumstance, the hunter approaches him with caution, 

 and either secures his prey by a second shot, where the 

 first has been but partially successful, or, as is more fre- 

 quently the case, causes his dog to seize the wounded ani- 

 mal, while he watches his own opportunity to stab him 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



with his hunting-knife. Sometimes where a noble buck 

 is the victim, and the hunter is impatient or inexperienced, 

 terrible conflicts ensue on such occasions. Another mode, 

 is to watch at night, in the neighbourhood of the salt-licks. 

 These are spots where the earth is impregnated with 

 saline particles, or where the salt-water oozes through the 

 soil. Deer and otlier grazing animals frequent such places, 

 and remain for hours licking the earth. The hunter 

 secretes himself here, either in the thick top of a tree, or 

 most generally in a screen erected for the purpose, and 

 artfully concealed, like a mask battery, with logs or green 

 boughs. This practice is pursued only in the summer, or 

 early in the autumn, in cloudless nights, when the moon 

 shines brilliantly, and objects may be readily discovered. 

 At the rising of the moon, or shortly after, the deer hav- 

 ing risen from their beds, approacli the lick. Such places 

 are generally denuded of timber, but surrounded by it; 

 and as the animal is about to emerge from the shade into 

 the clear moon-light, he stops, looks cautiously around, 

 and snuffs the air. Then he advances a few steps, and 

 stops again, smells the ground, or raises his expanded 

 nostrils, as if he " snuffed the approach of danger in every 

 tainted breeze." The hunter sits motionless, and most 

 breathless, waiting until the animal shall get within rifle- 

 shot, and until its position, in relation to the hunter and 

 the light, shall be favourable, when he fires with an uner- 

 ring aim. A few deer only can be thus taken in one 

 night, and after a few nights these timorous animals are 

 driven from the haunts which are thus disturbed. An- 

 other practice is called driving, and is only practised in 

 those parts of the country where this kind of game is 

 scarce, and where hunting is pursued as an amusement. 

 A large party is made up, and the hunters ride forthwith 

 their dogs. The hunting ground is selected, and, as it is 

 pretty well known what tracks are usually taken by the 

 deer when started, an individual is placed at each of those 

 passages, to intercept the retreating animal. The scene of 

 action being, in some measure, surrounded, small parties 

 advance with the dogs from different directions, and the 

 startled deer, in flying, most generally pass some of the 

 persons who are concealed, and who fire at them as they 

 pass. The elk has disappeared. A few have been seen 

 of late 3'ears, and some taken; but it is not known that 

 any remain at this time, within the limits of the state. — 

 The bear is seldom seen. This animal inhabits those parts 

 of the country that are thickly wooded, and delights par- 

 ticularly in cane-brakes, where it feeds in the winter on 

 the tender shoots of the young cane. The meat is tender 

 and finely flavoured, and is esteemed a great delicacy. 

 Wolves are very numerous in every part of the state. 

 There are two kinds: the common or black wolf, and the 



prairie wolf. The former is a large fierce animal, and 

 very destructive to sheep, pigs, calves, poultry, and even 

 young colts. They hunt in large packs, and after using 

 every stratagem to circumvent their pre)', attack it with 

 remarkable ferocity. Like the Indian, they always en- 

 deavour to surprise their victim, and strike the mortal 

 blow without exposing themselves to danger. They sel- 

 dom attack man except when asleep or wounded. The 

 largest animals, when wounded, entangled, or otherwise 

 disabled, become their prey, but in general they only 

 attack such as are incapable of resistance. They have 

 been known to lie in wait upon the bank of a stream, 

 which the buffaloes were in the habit of crossing, and, 

 when one of those unwieldy animals was so unfortu- 

 nate as to sink in the mire, spring suddenly upon it, 

 and worry it to death, while thus disabled from resist- 

 ance. Their most common prey is the deer, which they 

 hunt regularly; but all defenceless animals are alike ac- 

 ceptable to their ravenous appetites. When tempted by 

 hunger, they approach the farm-houses in the night, 

 and snatch their prey from under the very eye of the 

 farmer; and when the latter is absent with his dogs, 

 the wolf is sometimes seen by the females lurking about 

 in mid-day, as if aware of the unprotected state of the 

 family. Our heroic females have sometimes shot them 

 under such circumstances. The smell of burning assa- 

 foetida has a remarkable effect upon this animal. If a 

 fire be made in the woods, and a portion of this drug 

 thrown into it, so as to saturate the atmosphere with 

 the odour, the wolves, if any are within reach of the 

 scent, immediately assemble around, howling in the most 

 mournful manner; and such is the remarkable fascina- 

 tion under which they seem to labour, that they will 

 often suffer themselves to be shot down rather than quit 

 the spot. Of the veryfevvinstances of theirattacking human 

 beings of which we have heard, the following may serve 

 to give some idea of their habits: In very early times, a 

 negro man was passing in the night, in the lower part of 

 Kentucky, from one settlement to another. The distance 

 was several miles, and the country over which he travel- 

 led entirely unsettled. In the morning his carcass was 

 found entirely stript of flesh. Near itlay his axe, cover- 

 ed with blood, and all around, the bushes were beat 

 down, the ground trodden, and the number of foot-tracks 

 so great, as to show that the unfortunate victim had fought 

 long and manfully. On pursuing his track, it appeared 

 that the wolves had pursued him for a considerable dis- 

 tance; he had often turned upon them and driven them 

 back. Several times they had attacked him, and been re- 

 pelled, as appeared by the blood and tracks. He had kill- 

 ed some of them before the final onset, and in the last con- 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



281 



flict had destroyed several; his axe was his only weapon. 

 The prairie-wolf is a smaller species, which takes its 

 name from its liabits, or residing entirely upon the open 

 plains. Even when hunted with dogs, it will make cir- 

 cuit after circuit round the prairie, carefully avoiding the 

 forest, or only dashing into it occasionally when hard 

 pressed, and then returning to the plain. In size and ap- 

 pearance this animal is midway between the wolf and the 

 fox, and in colour it resembles the latter, being of a very 

 light red. It preys upon poultry, rabbits, young pigs, 

 calves, &c. The most friendly relations subsist between 

 this animal and the common wolf, and they constantly hunt 

 in packs together. Nothing is more common than to see 

 a large black wolf in company with several prairie-wolves. 

 I am well satisfied that the latter is the jackal of Asia. 

 Several years ago, an agricultural society, which was 

 established at the seat of government, offered a large pre- 

 mium to the person who should kill the greatest number 

 of wolves in one year. The legislature at the same time 

 offered a bounty for each wolf-scalp that should be taken. 

 The consequence was, that the expenditure for wolf-scalps 

 became so great, as to render it necessary to repeal the 

 law. These animals, although still numerous and trou- 

 blesome to the farmer, are greatly decreased in number, 

 and are no longer dangerous to man. We know of no 

 instance in late years of a human being having been attack- 

 ed by them. — Journal of Geology . 



THE WILD BOAR OF GERMANY. 



The Wild Boar of Germany, though pursued as an 

 object of sport, is fierce and powerful, active, cunning, 

 and courageous, and both tact and activity as well as the 

 steed, the rifle, and the hound are necessary to secure the 

 hunter's safety and success in the chase. 



When the Boar is found, and the Germans have dogs 

 regularly trained to that duty, "ugly useful animals, not 

 unlike a shepherd's dog, but rather smaller," called, in 

 the language of ^the country, " sow finders," and which 

 are so well trained, that like a thorough-bred fox-hound 

 with the fox, no other animal than the Boar will arrest 

 their attention. Immediately as there is a fnd these give 

 tongue, nor cease their cry during the chase. With ac- 

 tive but cautious irritation they pursue the Boar, till he is 

 at bay, when, with continual teasings, they artfully know 

 how to turn him sideways to his master, being tutored so 

 to do, as the shoulder affords the best aim for disabling 

 him most readily; and in this position he endeavours to 

 keep him till his master fires. If the Boar, after being 

 2 A 



brought to bay, be but ineffectually wounded, he becomes 

 most furious and formidable, and his four large tusks are 

 stops more dangerous than the " bristling spears of bat- 

 tle." Not only does he toss the heaviest hounds with 

 them, but frequently mortally wounds the m.ost athletic 

 huntsman. Some huntsmen, when attacked, instead of 

 trusting to their dogs, frequently rely upon their own 

 courage and skill, preferring gallantly to receive him upon 

 the point of a short sword or hanger, which, and our 

 kind informant can speak from experience, however, re- 

 quires all his strength and address: for, as the Boar 

 rushes powerfully forward, he will immediately find him- 

 self prostrated before him, should he miss his aim; he can 

 then only save himself b)' laying close to the ground, and 

 face downwards; for, as the Boar always strikes upwards, 

 he, by hitting his nose against the ground, will greatly 

 impede himself. From this awkward situation the sports- 

 man is usually relieved by his companions, either shoot- 

 ing at the Boar while so upon him, and their expertness 

 makes this of little danger, or by their loosing large dogs, 

 when, during a furious combat, the awkward sportsman 

 receives many a severe contusion, accompanied some- 

 times by the derision of his companions. 



If it happen that the wounded Boar makes off, the Boar- 

 hound, a species of blood-hound, says Colonel De Be- 

 renger, " is let loose, whicli pursues him for miles, giv- 

 ing tongue, nor will he leave him, even if other Boars 

 come in his way. When this dog overtakes the Boar he 

 furiously attacks him, and a fierce combat ensues, in which 

 the hounds are often destroyed; the huntsman, who has 

 actively followed the sound, in this case generally slays 

 the Boar by thrusting his sword, or a small knife, into 

 the spine of the neck, and this sagacious dog is taught to 

 give great aid to this difiicult task, by seizing one of the 

 Boar's ears, when, by jumping over his back, with it fast 

 between his teeth, by the consequent confined attitude, 

 he prevents the Boar from injuring his master." 



[Annals of Sporting. 



EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY OF AN ORNI- 

 THOLOGIST DURING A SOUTHERN TOUR. 



" Crossed the Potomac at Georgetown on the 20th of 

 January; weather severely cold, and the river completely 

 ice bound; reached Fredericksburgh the 22d. During 

 my stay there, made a short excursion from town, but 

 saw no object worthy of particular remark. 27th, arriv- 

 ed at Richmond. February 9th, one mile north of Rich- 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



mond, saw the Pine-Creeping Warbler, {Sylvia pinus-) 

 considered this an extraordinary occurrence, as the wea- 

 ther had been severely cold; made several unsuccessful 

 excursions while at Richmond. At Petersburgh 19th, 

 saw numbers of the Yellow-Rump Warbler, {Sylvia co- 

 ronata,) hopping about the denuded branches of the aspen 

 trees; the weather was quite cold, and the snow falling at 

 the time; believe this bird to be the last of the Silvia 

 tribe, except the Blue-bird, [Sylvia sialis,) to migrate 

 south in the fall, and the earliest to move north in the 

 spring; supposed they had commenced their partial migra- 

 tions on the above period, as I saw them repeatedly after- 

 wards as I travelled south. 21st, left Petersburgh, and 

 travelled thirty miles, saw numbers of the Cardinal Gros- 

 beak, or Red-bird, (Zo.T«a cardinalis,) Snow-birds, (7^/'m- 

 gilla IIudsojiia,)&ndB\ue-hirds; saw also, the Barred Owl, 

 {Strix nebidosa.) 22d, was greeted at sunriseby thesweet, 

 warbling notes of the Blue-bird; commenced my journey 

 at half-past seven; the weather previous to this for many 

 days had been alternately cold and wet, but this day it 

 was delightfully pleasant, and the animating influence 

 of the sun, seemed to give life to every object; saw a 

 great variety of birds, the Snow-bird, White-throated 

 Sparrow, (Fringilla albicollis,) Fox-coloured Sparrow, 

 {F. femiginea,) numbers of the Cardinal Grosbeak, 

 Crested Titmouse, (Parus bicolor,) Black-capped Tit- 

 mouse, [P. attricapillus,) Turtle Doves, {Columba 

 Carolinensis,) Crows, {Corviis corone,) Starlings, {Siur- 

 nns prt£clatorius,) Cow Buntings, (Emberiza pecoris,) 

 Pileated Woodpecker, {Picits pileutus,) Golden-winged 

 do., {P. auratus,) Red Bellied do., {P. Carolinensis,) 

 Hairy do., {P. villosus,) Downy do., [P. pubescens,) 

 and Yellow Bellied do., (P. variiis,) — endeavoured to 

 procure the former, but was unsuccessful; saw also the 

 Sparrow Hawk, {Falco Sparverius,) Pigeon Hawk, {F. 

 Cohimbarius,) and shot the Red-shouldered Hawk, {F. 

 lineatKS,) saw numbers of the Turkey Buzzard, ( Vitl- 

 tur aura.) In consequence of heavy rains many streams 

 were almost impassable; crossed several in water of sufS- 

 cient depth to swim horses; saw also the Robin, {Tar- 

 dus migratorius,) winter Wren, {Sylvia troglody- 

 tes,) and heard the Carolina Wren, {Certhia Caro- 

 liniana.) 23d, in the town of Halifax, N. C, was awa- 

 kened before sunrise by the spring notes of a Robin, 

 which was perched on the branch of a tree close to my 

 chamber window; arose and took a walk through the town, 

 and saw numbers of the Blue Jay, {Corviis cristatus,) 

 in various parts of the town; counted ten on one small 

 tree in the main street, so tame and unsuspicious, that they 

 suffered me to approach within thirty feet of them, a very 

 unusual circumstance; also in the course of the day, the 



Kildeer, [Charadrius vociferiis,) Purple Crackle, {Gra- 

 ciila quiscala,) and for the first time this season, the 

 Brown Thrush, {Titrdus rii/us;) had an invitation to join 

 a party to hunt Wild Turkeys, but declined. 24th, saw 

 nothing worthy of remark; 25th, reached Raleigh, N. C. 

 late in the evening. 



I spent a few days very agreeably in this place, 

 and made several hunting excursions ; became ac- 

 quainted with some of the leading sportsmen of the 

 city; was exceedingly gratified at the courteous atten- 

 tion and kindness of General Beverly Daniel, U. S. Mar- 

 shall for the state. General Daniel is one of the most in- 

 defatigable sportsmen of the country, and has of late years 

 confined himself while hunting to the pleasures of the 

 chase, more especially that of hunting deer on horseback 

 and with hounds; his pack is of the first order, and he 

 never relinquishes the object of his pursuit while there is 

 the slightest prospect of success; a visit to this gentleman 

 will convince any one, that he possesses every thing that 

 is requisite for a sportsman of the first order, and his very 

 amiable and gentlemanly bearing places you free from re- 

 straint, and makes you feel that his home is your home. 

 There are several other .sportsmen in this place who shoot 

 well, and are very polite and attentive to strangers, and 

 one or two excellent pointer dogs. A northern sportsman 

 who desires to gratify himself with hunting, can find 

 abundance of it here, and would do well to visit this 

 place. Partridges are most plentiful, wild turkeys, deer 

 and foxes, also, and now and then a wild cat affords 

 amusement, whenever any individual chooses to mount 

 his horse and go in pursuit; and General D., with his 

 fine pack of hounds, is always ready to contribute to the 

 enjoyment of a stranger, when his character is such as to 

 command that distinguished attention. The country around 

 Raleigh is an admirable sporting district, and although 

 thickly settled, it is not necessary to make excursions 

 over a mile for partridges, and a very few miles for any 

 other description of game common to that part. By-the-by, 

 I have a very good anecdote to tell of the perseverance of 

 General D., which proves the necessity also, of follow- 

 ing up the chase, even when hope of success has failed, 

 and that many a fine deer has been lost to the hun- 

 ter, when but little more effort would have gained him 

 his prize. General D., with some friends, had made a 

 hunt after deer, and the pack of hounds soon opened on a 

 fresh trail, which was followed by hounds and huntsmen 

 at a rapid rate for a long time, but the activity of the 

 deer led its pursuers across many a stream and swamp 

 far from home, until day was drawing to its close, and 

 the party worn out. The dogs had become silent, or had 

 run out of hearing, and in consequence of this, the party. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



except General D., had become discouraged, and proposed 

 to return home; he therefore desired that they would 

 make one more attempt, and if they failed in this, he 

 would return home with them; (he suspected his hounds 

 had taken the deer to a certain point on a distant stream, 

 and there had killed it;) but his importunity availed no- 

 thing, and they separated, he for furtlier pursuit, and they 

 for their homes. The noise of the hounds had ceased for 

 some time, and, after riding a few miles, he could gain no 

 other intelligence than that they were seen moving in the 

 very direction he expected; he became now almost con- 

 vinced that they had overtaken the deer, and were eating 

 it; but he moved rapidly on to the spot, which he soon 

 reached, and much to his satisfaction, saw a buck Ij'ing 

 in the water on its side dead, and the hounds completely 

 exhausted on the margin of the stream, unable to proceed 

 any further; — this may be called the summit of the hunts- 

 man's glory. 



" March 6th, saw and shot a Loggerhead Shrike, (La- 

 nius Carolinensis,) the first living bird of that kind I had 

 ever seen; these birds seldom settle on a tree at any height 

 from the ground; perhaps the average height may be fif- 

 teen feet, and mostly on the central topmost branch; it is 

 from this elevation, that in its silent watchfulness it disco- 

 vers the mice and various worms on the ground, which 

 form its food: this bird would be of great interest to the 

 northern husbandman, because it devours so many mice 

 and large worms; but its range north is North Carolina; 

 from thence south it may be seen in every neighbourhood, 

 and is very useful on the cotton plantations. 7th, procured 

 two or three specimens of squirrels; also saw some wild 

 turkeys cross the road, but at too great a distance to shoot; 

 this evening reached Columbia, S. C. The country around 

 this city is a tolerably good ornithological district; but the 

 only gentleman in the place who takes an interest in natu- 

 ral history is Dr. Gibbes, professor of chemistry in Co- 

 lumbia College; this gentleman pursues the study of na- 

 tural history with great spirit, and has already a very 

 superior collection on this subject; his cabinet of mine- 

 rals is truly splendid, and has cost a large sum of money. 

 The Blue Grosbeak, {Loxia cceridea,) and the Coerulean 

 Warbler, {Sylvia ccerulea,) rare and most beautiful birds, 

 frequently make their appearance in this neighbourhood. 

 Dr. Gibbes has also procured several specimens of the 

 Bewicks Wren, [Troglodytes Bewickii,) near his pre- 

 mises, a new bird, figured by Mr. Audubon in the first vo- 

 lume of his work, a copy of which I saw in the College 

 Library, which, it. appears, was subscribed for by the 

 state, and deposited there; another copy is in the Charles- 

 ton City Library; and a third, I understood, was pur- 

 chased by a few spirited individuals of the city of 



Charleston. 12th, left Columbia about twilight, heard the 

 well-known spring note of the Woodcock, {Scolopax 

 tninor;) to my surprise I found the Woodcock was con- 

 sidered a rare bird south of Richmond, and the few which 

 visit the southern states remain but a very short period 

 during their migrations in the spring and fall. 13th," on 

 the road to Augusta, was much diverted at seeing some 

 men shooting with rifles at a black squirrel on the 

 topmost branches of a tall pine; they had fired five or six 

 unsuccessful shots with a rest, and it was finally left to 

 my shot-gun to kill the animal; this pleased them much, 

 as they belonged to some poor families then on the road, 

 migrating to Alabama, and had been on short allowance 

 of meat for some days. I discovered the Brown-headed 

 and Red-bellied Nuthatches, {Sitta piisilla and S. varia,) 

 to be very common in South Carolina and Georgia; but 

 did not, during my visit in those states, see a single White- 

 breasted Nuthatch, {S. Carolinensis;) and Dr. Gibbes, of 

 Columbia, informed me that he had never seen one in that 

 neighbourhood; this is remarkable, as its name would de- 

 termine its residence there; the Pine-creeping and Yellow- 

 rump Warblers remain in this country the whole year. 

 14th, saw in some ponds of shallow water, close to the 

 road side, the Mallard, (Anas bochas,) the BuSel-head- 

 ed, {Jl. albeola,) and Summer Ducks, {A. sponsa,) feed- 

 ing on some short grass beneath the surface of the water; 

 saw an abundance of the Cardinal Grosbeak the whole of 

 my journey. Their plumage is much more brilliant than 

 those of the north. 



"20th,left Augusta for Savannah, saw the Ruby-crown- 

 ed Wren, {Sylvia calendula,) also for the first time, a pair 

 of Ground Doves, [Cohanba passerina,) or, as they are 

 called, the INIourning Doves — noticed to-day also for the 

 first, the Black Vulture, ( Vultur jota;) this bird is smaller 

 than the other species, and its location is in the south; it 

 is very seldom seen as far north as Virginia. There is a 

 story told, that during the Revolutionary War, the Black 

 Vultures fed on some of the human and brute carcasses 

 left on a field of battle in S. C, and that numbers had 

 followed the army afterwards to the middle states, where 

 they remained during the sojourn of the troops there, but 

 were never seen before nor since, north of the Potomac. — 

 Approached a pond, and saw a large flock of the Buffel- 

 headed Ducks feeding, also two Blue Heron.s, or Cranes, 

 {Ardea coerulea,) endeavoured to shoot the latter, but 

 they would not suS'er me to approach them. — About sunset 

 heard the Wild Turkeys going to their roosts; the noise 

 created by their wings, while flying to the top of the tall 

 pine trees, is so great, that in still weather, it may be 

 heard distinctly for half a mile; it requires great exertion 

 on the part of the bird to reach their roosting places, as 




284 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



they settle on limbs seldom less than forty feet from the 

 ground, and the body of the bird being very heavy, the 

 resistance to the air caused by the concave wings, creates 

 a loud rustling noise, entirely unlike any other sound, 

 that at the above distance, the traveller, or hunter, cannot 

 be mistaken. This is the most propitious period to hunt 

 them, and is generally observed as such by the hunters of 

 the south, who, when the first bird flies into a tree, direct 

 their footsteps as rapidly as is consistent with caution, and 

 frequently succeed in killing several, before the rerftainder 

 take alarm and escape. 21st, killed a large rattlesnake, 

 \^hich was just emerging from some bush-land on fire; it 

 was four and a half feet long, and rather over two inches 

 in diameter, and had but one rattle. I saw others which 

 were not half of those dimensions with three rattles. 

 Quere. Can the number of rattles determine the age, as is 

 generally supposed? 



" 22d, heard the singular notes, kek, kek, kek, of the 

 Ivory-billed Woodpecker; {Plcus principalis,) endeavour- 

 ed with much caution to shoot it, but it eluded my efforts 

 after following through a swamp from tree to tree for a 

 long distance; these birds are becoming very scarce in 

 South Carolina and the northern part of Georgia: during 

 Wilson's excursions he found them in Nortli Carolina, but 

 I did not see one in that state, and in my frequent inqui- 

 ries among the residents, found the bird was unknown. 

 23d, the morning was beautiful; arose early and took my 

 seat in the porch of the tavern; around this house was a 

 great many live oak trees, which formed a handsome 

 grove of evergreens. Among the branches of these and 

 on the ground were quantities of the Cardinal Grosbeak; 

 counted fourteen hopping about the ground within a few 

 yards of the house; noticed the circumstance to the land- 

 lady, who stated that she had fed and encouraged them 

 for a long time on pounded groundnuts, and they had be- 

 come so tame at times, that when her negroes fed them, 

 they would crowd around like chickens; the gray, cat, 

 and fox squirrels, are abundant here among the pines, 

 but the ground squirrel is very rare; and the chickaree, 

 which, in the north, is so fond of pine woods, is never 

 seen on the seaboard of South Carolina and Georgia. Much 

 to my gratification I saw a flock of Whooping Cranes, 

 {Ardea Jimericana,) eleven in number, but at a very 

 great heigbt from the earth; they were directing their 

 course north. Sometime before they passed over, I heard 

 a most singular noise, but could not discern the source 

 whence it proceeded, but, as the sound grew more dis- 

 tinct, I had the curosity to alight, when I saw them 

 approaching most majestically. The remarkably guttu- 

 ral sounds produced by a company of these birds, strikes 

 the ear in strange discord, and may be heard at an as- 



tonishing distance; they fly parallel with each other; but 

 when in a body, not perfectly horizontal like the duck, 

 or swan, or even others of the same tribe, as I could 

 observe their movement to be undulatory, although in 

 very long curvatures: this bird is very difficult to pro- 

 cure, as it cannot be approached within gun-shot, and 

 being the largest of the tribe, and, when feeding, always 

 chooses those places, where, by its great height, it can 

 see objects around it for a great distance, which of course 

 precludes the possibility of approach. Saw the Blue-gray 

 Fly Catcher, [Muscicapa coeridea,) and Prairie War- 

 bler, {Sylvia minuta;) the latter appeared without song; 

 this evening reached Savannah." 



( To be continued. ) 



For the Cabinet of Natural History. 



;tanzas to the mocking-bird. 



By Charles West Thomson. 



Beautiful charmer ! bird of many voices ! 



Most sweet magician of the choral throng ! 

 How nature in her woodland haunts rejoices, 



When thou hast filled the summer wilds with song ! 



Well may the grove be envious of thy powers, 

 When thou canst rival every warbler's tone, 



Pouring the richest melody in showers, 



That prove the gifts of all the rest thine own. 



Not unto thee has bounteous nature given 

 The bright cerulean plumage of the jay, 



Nor the swan's vesture, like the snow from heaven, 

 Nor the woodpecker's fanciful array. 



The parrot's coat is far more rich and glowing ; 



The red-bird much outshines thee on the wing; 

 And when the peacock his gay train is showing, 



Thou seem'st a mean and unregarded thing. 



But what is all tlie dazzled eye discovers 

 In the gay dresses that to these belong, 



To the more glorious charm that round thee hover. 

 When thou hast lifted up thy voice in song ? 



Enchanter of the woods ! the richest 

 Of native melody in tliee we find ; 



Each other songster trills his simple 

 But all the forest is in thee combined. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



Thy imitative art is ever waking 



To catch tlie varied notes that round thee ring, 

 And each new manner with strange aptness taking, 



Thou teachest others how, improved, to sing. 



The softest tones the gentle cat-bird utters. 

 Or the loud clamour of the noisy crow, 



The lark's sweet glee, or what the harsh owl mutters. 

 With equal truth thy magic voice can show. 



Then come — a host thyself— with no adorning 

 But the plain garb that nature bids thee wear; 



The gaudy show of weaker songsters scorning, 

 Come, and with melody invest the air. 



O, ever welcome ! how the grove rejoices 

 Listening thy harmony, so sweet and strong! 



Beautiful charmer ! bird of many voices ! 

 Come and delight our weary souls with song! 



THE EUROPEAN QUAIL. 



There is much diversity of opinion in regard to the 

 American Partridge, or Quail. From New-Jersey north 

 this bird is wholly called, and known as the Quail. In 

 Pennsylvania, and all of the states south and west, it is 

 called the Partridge. 



The subjoined history of the true or European Quail, 

 will suffice to show, in a comparison with the history of our 

 partridge, that it is a different bird in habit and character 

 altogether. 



The Quail, in appearance, is so much like the par- 

 tridge, as to be in some places called the dwarf par- 

 tridge; and in the manners of the two species there is a 

 great resemblance. They form their nests and rear their 

 young nearly in the same way. They are, however, in 

 many respects, very different. Quails migrate to other 

 countries; they are always smaller; and have not a bare 

 space between the eyes, nor the horse shoe, or crescent, 

 figure on the breast. The eggs too, are less than those of 

 the partridge, and very different in colour. Their voices 

 are unlike. Quails seldom live in covies, except when 

 their wants unite the feeble family to their mother, or 

 some powerful cause urges at once the whole to assem- 

 ble, and traverse together the extent of the ocean, hold- 

 ing their course to the same distant lands. They are 

 much less cunning than the partridge, and more easily 

 ensnared, especially when young. Their disposition is 

 not so gentle as that of the partridge. 



Quails are found in most parts of Great Britain, but not 

 2 B 



very numerously, and they are seldom seen in the mid- 

 land counties. It appears that one circumstance which 

 determines their abode in that country is plenty of herb- 

 age; since, in a dry spring, when grass is consequently 

 scarce, few Quails are to be met with. 



The females lay ten or twelve eggs, in the incubation of 

 which they are occupied three weeks. The eggs are 

 whitish, but marked with ragged rust-coloured spots. 

 Quails have been supposed, but without foundation, to 

 breed twice in the year. 



It is said that Quails usually sleep during the day con- 

 cealed in the tallest grass; lying on their sides, with their 

 legs extended, in the same spot, even for hours together. 

 So very indolent are they, that a dog must absolutely run 

 upon them before they are sprung; and, when they are 

 forced upon the wing, they seldom fly far. Quails are 

 easily drawn within reach of a net, by a call, imitating 

 their cry, which is done by an instrument called a quail 

 pipe, which is rarely, if ever used in England, having 

 been superseded by the fowling-piece. 



Quails visit England in the spring, and generally leave it 

 again in the latter end of September; they are sometimes 

 found later, and, if the accounts are to be depended on, 

 instances are not wanting, where they have remained the 

 whole year. They are supposed to winter in Africa. If 

 to the circumstance of their generally sleeping in the 

 day, is added that of their being seldom known to make 

 their first annual appearance in the day time, it may be 

 inferred that they perform their journey by night, and 

 that they direct their course to those countries where 

 the harvest is preparing, and thus change their abode to 

 procure a subsistence. On their arrival at Alexandria, in 

 Egypt, such multitudes are exposed in the markets for 

 sale, that three or four may be bought for a medina, 

 (less than three farthings.) Crews of merchant vessels 

 have been fed upon them; and complaints have been laid 

 at the consul's office by mariners against their captains 

 for giving them nothing but Quails to eat. 



With wind and weather in their favour, they have been 

 known to perform a flight of fifty leagues across the Black 

 Sea in the course of a night; a wonderful distance for so 

 short-winged a bird. 



Such prodigious quantities of Quails have appeared on 

 the western coasts of the kingdom of Naples, in the vici- 

 nity of Nettuno, that a hundred thousand have, in one 

 day, been caught within the space of three or four miles. 

 Most of these are taken to Rome, where they are in great 

 request, and are sold at high prices. Clouds of Quails 

 also alight in spring along the coasts of Provence; espe- 

 cially on the lands which border on the sea, and are some- 

 times found so exhausted, that for a few of the first days 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



they may be caught with the hand. In some parts of the 

 south of Russia they abound so greatlj', that at the 

 time of their migration, they are caught by thousands, and 

 sent in casks to Moscow and Petersburgh. 



It seems that great quantities of these birds are import- 

 ed into England from France. They are conveyed b}' 

 stage-coaches; about one hundred in a large square box, 

 divided into five or six compartments, one above another, 

 just high enough to admit the Quails to stand upright. 

 Were they allowed a greater height than this, they would 

 soon kill themselves; and even with this precaution the 

 feathers on the top of the head are generally beaten off. 

 These boxes have wire on the fore part, and each parti- 

 tion is furnished with a small trough for food. They 

 may be forwarded in this manner, without difficulty, to 

 great distances. 



With respect to these birds having an instinctive know- 

 ledge of the precise time for emigration, there is a very 

 singular fact in some young Quails, wliich had been bred 

 in a state of confinement from the earliest period of their 

 lives, had never enjoyed, and therefore could not feel the 

 loss of liberty. For four successive years, they were ob- 

 served to be restless, and to flutter, with unusual agita- 

 tions, regularly in September and April; and this uneasi- 

 ness lasted thirty days at each time. It began constant- 

 ly about an hour before sunset. The birds passed the 

 whole night in these fruitless struggles; and always on the 

 following day appeared dejected and stupid. 



Quails are birds of undaunted courage, and their quar- 

 rels often terminate in mutual destruction. This irascible 

 disposition induced the ancient Greeks and Romans to 

 fight them with each other, as the moderns do game cocks. 

 And such favourites were the conquerors, that, in one in- 

 stance, Augustus punished a prefect of Egypt with death 

 for bringing to his table one of these birds which had 

 acquired celebrity for its victories: — so at least it is re- 

 corded; but, when the character of Augustus is taken into 

 consideration, the account appears scarcely entitled to 

 credit. 



Sometimes combats, we are told, were performed be- 

 tween a Quail and a man; the Quail was put into a large 

 box, and set in the middle of a circle traced on the floor; 

 the man struck it on the head with one finger, or plucked 

 some feathers from it: if the Quail, in defending itself, 

 did not pass the limits of the circle, its master won the 

 wager; but if, in its fury, it transgressed the bounds, its 

 antagonist was declared victor. 



The Chinese use this bird, it is said, whose body is very 

 hot, to warm their hands in cold weather; and among the 

 French, " Chaiid coinme un caille — warm as a Quail," 

 is a proverb. 



Quails, where they can he found, afford good practice 

 to the young shooter: they fly straight, and seldom 

 far; and thus many shots may be obtained with little 

 difficulty. 



The length of the Quail is seven inches and a half, 

 breadth fourteen; bill dusky; the feathers of the head, 

 neck, and back, are a mixture of a brown ash-colour and 

 black; the crown of the head divided by a whitish yellow 

 line, beginning at the bill, and running along the hind 

 part of the neck to the back; above each eye is another 

 similar coloured streak; a dark line passes from each 

 corner of the bill, forming a kind of gorget above the 

 breast; the chin, throat, belly, thighs, and vent, dirty yel- 

 lowish white; the scapular feathers, and tliose of the back, 

 are marked in their middles with a long light yellow 

 streak, and on their sides with ferruginous and black bars; 

 the coverts of their wings are reddish brown, elegantly 

 barred with paler lines, bounded on each side with black; 

 the quills are lightish brown, with small rust-coloured 

 bands on the exterior edges of the feathers; the breast is 

 of a pale rust-colour, spotted with black, and streaked 

 with pale yellow; the tail consists of twelve short feathers, 

 barred with black and very pale brownish red; the legs 

 are pale brown. 



The female differs from the male in having no black 

 spots on the fore part of the neck, breast and side feathers, 

 and from the colours being less vivid. Some of them 

 have a long spot of brown beneath the throat. 



DIRECTIONS FOR FISHING FOR PIKE. 



The Pike loves a still, shady, unfrequented water, and 

 usually lies amongst or near weeds; such as flags, bul- 

 rushes, candocks, reeds, or in the green fog that some- 

 times covers standing waters, though he will sometimes shoot 

 out into the clear stream. He is sometimes caught at the 

 top and in tlie middle; and often, especially in cold wea- 

 ther, at the bottom. 



Their time of spawning is about the end of February 

 or the beginning of March; and chief season, from the 

 end of May to the beginning of February. 



Pikes are called jacks till they become twenty-four 

 inches long. 



The baits for Pike are a small trout, frogs, the loach 

 and miller's-thumb; the head end of an eel, with the skin 

 taken off below the fins; a small jack; a lob-worm; and in 

 winter, the fat of bacon. And notwithstanding what 

 Walton and others say against baiting with a perch, it is 

 confidently asserted, that Pikes have been taken with a 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



small perch, when neither a roach nor bleak would tempt 

 them.* 



Observe that all your baits for Pike must be as fresh as 

 possible. Living baits you may take with you in a tin 

 kettle, changing the water often: and dead ones should be 

 carried in fresh bran, which will dry up that moisture 

 that otherwise would infect and rot them. 



In trolling, the head of the bait-fish must be at the bent 

 of the hook; whereas in fishing at the snap, the hook must 

 come out at or near his tail. But the essential difference 

 between these two methods is, that in the former the 

 Pike is always suffered to pouch or swallow the bait: but 

 in the latter you are to strike as soon as he has taken it. 



The rod for trolling should be about three yards and a 

 half long, with a ring at the top for the line to run 

 through; or you may fit a trolling-top to your fly rod, 

 which need only be stronger than the common fly-top. 



Let your line be of green or sky-coloured silk, thirty 

 yards in length, which will make it necessary to use 

 the winch, as is before directed, with a swivel at the end. 



The common trolling-hook for a living bait consists 

 of two large hooks, with one common shank, made of 

 one piece of wire, of about three-quarters of an inch 

 long, placed back to back, so that the points may not 

 stand in a right line, but incline so much inwards as that 

 they with the shank may form an angle little less than 

 equilateral. At the top of the shank is a loop, left in 

 the bending the wire to make the hook double, through 

 which is put a strong twisted brass wire, of about six 

 inches long; and to this is looped another such link, but 

 both so loose that the hook and lower link may have 

 room to play. To the end of the line fasten a steel swivel. 



But there is a sort of trolling-hook, different from that 

 already described and to which it is thought preferable, 

 which will require another management: this is no more 

 than two single hooks tied back to back, with a strong 

 piece of gimp between the shanks. In the whipping 

 the hooks and the gimp togethei-, make a small loop; and 

 take into it two links of chain, of about an eighth of an 

 inch diameter, and into the lower link, by means of a 

 small staple of wire, fasten by the greater end a bit of 

 lead of a conical figure, and somewhat sharp at the 

 point. These hooks are to be had at the fishing tackle 

 shops ready fitted up. 



* A frog- skinned, will, by the whiteness of its flesh, tempt Pike, 

 when other measures fail, but it must be kept in motion, and when 

 seized, will be carried slowly to the bottom by the fish: you must suf- 

 fer it to remain several minutes before you strike, for, should the Pike 

 not be very greedy, he will keep it in his jaws some time before he 

 swallows it. — Ed. 



The latter kind of hook is to be thus ordered, viz: put 

 the lead into the mouth of the bait-fish, and sow it up; 

 the fish will live some time; and though the weight of 

 the lead will keep his head down, he will swim with 

 near the same ease as if at liberty. 



But if you troll with a dead bait, as some do, for a reason 

 which the angler will be glad to know, viz: that a living 

 bait makes too great a slaughter among the fish, do it with 

 a hook, of which the following paragraph contains a de- 

 scription: 



Let the shank be about six inches long, and leaded from 

 the middle as low as the bent of the hook, to which a 

 piece of very strong gimp must be fastened by a staple, 

 and two links of chain; the shank must be barbed like a 

 dart, and the lead a quarter of an inch square: the barb of 

 the shank must stand like the fluke of an anchor, which is 

 placed in a contrary direction to that of the stock. Let 

 the gimp be about a foot long; and to the end thereof fix a 

 swivel. To bait it thrust the barb of the shank into the 

 mouth of the bait-fish, and bring it out at his side near the 

 tail: when the barb is thus brought through, it cannot 

 return, and the fish will lie perfectly straight, a circum- 

 stance that renders the trouble of tying the tail unne- 

 cessary. 



There is yet another sort of trolling-hook, which is, in- 

 deed, no other than what most writers on this subject have 

 mentioned; whereas the others, here described, are late 

 improvements: and this is a hook, either single or double, 

 with a long shank, leaded about three inches up the wire 

 with a piece of lead about a quarter of an inch square at the 

 greater or lower end: fix to the shank an armed wire about 

 eight inches long. To bait this hook, thrust your wire 

 into the mouth of the fish, quite through his belly, and 

 out at his tail; placing the wire so that the point of the hook 

 may be even with the belly of the bait-fish; and then tie 

 the tail of the fish with strong thread to the wire: some 

 fasten it with a needle and thread, which is a neat way. 



Both with the troll and at the snap, cut away one of the 

 fins of the bait-fish close at the gills, and another behind 

 the vent on the contrary side, which will make it play the 

 better. 



The bait being thus fixed, is to be thrown in, and kept 

 in constant motion in the water, sometimes suffered to 

 sink, then gradually raised: now drawn with the stream, 

 and then against it; so as to counterfeit the motion of a 

 small fish in swimming. If a Pike is near, he mistakes the 

 bait for a living fish, seizes it with prodigious greediness, 

 goes off with it to his hole, and in about ten minutes 

 pouches it. When he has thus swallowed the bait, you 

 will see the line move, which is the signal for striking him; 

 do this with two lusty jerks, and then play him. 




288 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



The other way of taking Pike, viz: with the snap, is as 

 follows: 



Let the rod be twelve feet long, very strong and taper, 

 with a strong loop at the top to fasten your line to. Your 

 line must be about a foot shorter than the rod, and much 

 stronger than the trolling-line. 



And here it is necessary to be remembered, that there 

 are two ways of snapping for Pike, viz: with the live and 

 with the dead snap. 



For the live snap, there is no kind of hook so proper as 

 the double spring hook. To bait it, nothing more is ne- 

 cessary than to hang the bait-fish fast by the back fin to the 

 middle hook, where he will live a long time. 



Of hooks for the dead snap, there are many kinds: but 

 the one, which, after repeated trials, has been found to 

 excel all others hitherto known, we subjoin the descrip- 

 tion and use of as follows, viz: whip two hooks, of about 

 three-eighths of an inch in the bent, to a piece of gimp, in 

 the manner directed for that trolling-hook. Then take a 

 piece of lead, of the same size and figure as directed for 

 the trolling-hook above mentioned ; and drill a hole through 

 it from end to end. To bait it, take a long needle or wire; 

 enter it in at the side, about half an inch above the tail, and 

 with it pass the gimp between the skin and the ribs of the 

 fish, bringing it out at his mouth: then put the lead over 

 the gimp, draw it down into the fish's throat, and press his 

 moutii close, and then, having a swivel to your line, hang 

 on the gimp. 



In throwing the bait, observe the rules given for trolling; 

 but remember, that the more you keep it in motion the 

 nearer it resembles a living fish. 



When you have a bite, strike immediately, the contrary 

 way to that which the head of the Pike lies, or to which he 

 goes with the bait; if you cannot find which way his head 

 lies, strike upright with two smart jerks, retiring back- 

 wards as fast as you can, till you have brought him to a 

 landing place, and then do as before is directed. 



As the Pike spawns in March, and before that month 

 rivers are seldom in order for fishing, it will hardly beworth 

 while to begin trolling till April: after that the weeds will 

 be apt to be troublesome. But the prime month in the 

 year for trolling is October; when the Pike are fattened by 

 their summer's feed, the weeds are rotted, and by the fall- 

 ing of the waters the harbours of the fish are easily found. 



Choose to troll in clear, and not muddy water, and in 

 windy weather, if the wind be not easterly. 



Some use in trolling and snapping two or more swivels 

 to their line, by means whereof the twisting of the line is 

 prevented, the bait plays more freely, and, though dead, is 

 made to appear as if alive, which, in rivers, is doubtless an 

 excellent way: but those who can like to fish in ponds, or 



still waters, will find very little occasion for more 

 than one. 



The Pike is also to be caught with a minnow; for which 

 method take the following directions: 



Geta singlehook, slender, and long in the shank; let itre- 

 semble the shape of a shepherd's crook; put lead upon it, as 

 thick near the bent as will go into a minnow's mouth; place 

 the point of the hook directly up the face of the fish. Let 

 the rod be as long as you can handsomely manage, with a 

 line of the same length. Castupand down,andmanageit as 

 when you troll with any other bait. If, when the Pike hath 

 taken your bait, he run to the end of the line before he hath 

 gorged it, do not strike, but hold still only, and he will re- 

 turn back and swallow it. But if you use that bait with a 

 troll, I rather prefer it before any bait that I know. 



In landing a Pike, great caution is necessary; for his 

 bite is esteemed venomous. The best and safest hold you 

 can take of him is by the head; in doing which, place your 

 thumb and finger in his eyes. — Complete Angler. 



A SPORTING DIALOGUE. 



Enter Monsieur Bremond. 



D . Good morning, Mr. B. ; how do you 



feel after your excursion yesterday? I understood you 

 went after partridges. 



B . Oh, passablement, only leetel suSare vid de 



rheumatis. 



D . That is bad, but I heard you beat the whole 



company shooting; how came that? three of our best 

 shots too! 



B . Oh, vy, yes, you see, de first bird ven he get 



up. Major C fire — pong, (imitating the report of the 



gun.) No ting. — Mons. D he fire — pong — No ting. — 



Mons. F he fire too — pong — No ting. — I take a de 



pinch' of my rappee, (bringing his hands up in the line 

 of aim,) p-o-n-g — dat put her down. 



D . Excellent indeed; but how did you like your 



young dog, you tried him a few days ago, did you not? 



B . (With great emotion,) oh, mine cot, if you had 



see de perform of Dash. I will confess, ma foi, I nevare 

 have see dog like a dat — he range de field so grand, and 

 for settin bird, dere is no dog like him. 



D . But what did you find? I suppose you killed 



a great many birds. 



B . (shrugging up his shoulders,) Ah, to be sure, you 



may say I did not see no ting. But I will confess, mine 

 cot, I have in my life nevare see dog like a dat. 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



289 



NOTES OF A NATURALIST. 



By Jacob Green, M. D., &c. 



I HAVE passed a portion of the summer and autumn of 

 the last few years in the western part of Pennsylvania, in 

 a little village almost surrounded with lofty hills. Along 

 the base of one of the hills, a fine stream of water winds 

 its way to the mighty Ohio, which river it joins a few 

 miles from the city of Pittsburg. The great post-road 

 from Philadelphia to Wheeling passes through this village; 

 but it is quite remote from any thickly inhabited town. 

 Much of the surrounding country is as rude and unculti- 

 vated as when the red man of the forest was lord of the 

 soil. In such a spot as this, where hills, and dales, and 

 woods, and streams, are almost all fresh from the hand of 

 the Bestower, the lover of nature will be sure to find much 

 that is new to amuse and interest him. My present ob- 

 ject is to record a few scattered observations made during 

 some leisure hours when exploring this extensive and al- 

 most untrodden field of teeming nature. 



The Bat. 



■ Lucemque perosi, 



Nocte volant, seroque trahant a vespere i 



Ovid. Metam. 



There is scarcely any quadruped to which most persons 

 have a greater aversion than the Bat. The ancient poets 

 derived their terrible fictions of the Harpies from some 

 winged monster of this genus. Man}' of our antipathies 

 cannot easily be explained; but our aversion from the Bat 

 may be traced to" several causes. With some, it may in 

 part arise from the fact that it is one of the unclean animals 

 enumerated in the Pentateuch; or, perhaps, from the cir- 

 cumstance that it inhabits gloomy caverns and deserted 

 ruins. The principal reason is, no doubt, the general be- 

 lief that it is a noxious creature. In some cases where 

 the Bat has flown into a room during the evening, I have 

 heard of its getting entangled in the hair of the head, and 

 thus occasioning serious bites. Though it is considered by 

 most naturalists as a fabulous story, it is next to certain, 

 that some of the species suck the blood of man and other 

 animals during sleep. I am informed by my friend 

 Titian R. Peale, Esq., that several undoubted instances of 

 this kind fell under his own observation during a late visit 

 to South America. One was that of an individual who 

 slept on a hammock within a few feet of his own. He 

 examined the bleeding wounds of the person bitten, and 

 now entertains no doubt on the subject, though he often 

 slept with his feet uncovered, without being so fortu- 



nate as to receive an attack. The indefatigable natural- 

 ist, Mr. Waterton, who was for several months in Dutch 

 and Portuguese Guiana, where the vampyre abounds, is 

 fully convinced that they have this power, though he also 

 in vain threw himself into the most favourable situations 

 for the animal to exercise its sanguineous propensities upon 

 himself. "The provoking brute," he remarks, "would 

 refuse to give my claret a solitary trial, though he would 

 tap the more favoured Indian's toe, in a hammock within 

 a few yards of mine. For the space of eleven months I 

 slept alone in the loft of a woodcutter's abandoned house 

 in the forest, and though the vampyre came in and out 

 every night, and I had the finest opportunity of seeing 

 him, as the moon shone through apertures where windows 

 had once been, I never could be certain that I saw him 

 make a positive attempt to quench his thirst from my 

 veins, though he often hovered over the hammock." See 

 Loudon's JMag., Sept., 1832. The great mystery in this 

 whole process is how the Bat punctures the blood-vessels 

 so as not to wake the suflerers. As far as my observation 

 extends, none of the Bats which inhabit our northern 

 states, have the propensity to suck the blood of living ani- 

 mals. I have long been in the habit of observing this 

 wonderful quadruped, and some of my remarks on this 

 subject will be found published by the late Dr. John D. 

 Godman, in his American Natural History. The Rev. 

 G. White, in his Selborne, gives a curious account of a 

 tame Bat "that would take flies out of a person's hand;" 

 but although I have inade frequent attempts to domesti- 

 cate these birds of night, they all entirely failed; none of 

 the animals lived more than two or three weeks after their 

 imprisonment. 



From the equivocal character of the Bat, forming as it 

 does so striking a link in the chain of organized beings be- 

 tween quadrupeds and birds, it might be supposed that 

 the family to which it belongs was well understood by 

 naturalists, yet perhaps there is no one which is more con- 

 fused. Most of the genera are founded on the number and 

 position of the cutting teeth, characters which have been 

 fully ascertained to var}' with the age of the animal. Pro- 

 fessor Rafinesque has proposeda genus whichhecallsNycti- 

 ceus, which includes those Bats with two incisors in the upper 

 jaw near the canines, widely separated in front by an interven- 

 ing space. In this genus I placed the Bat which I shall present- 

 ly describe; but Mr. Gray, in his '■ Natural Arrangement 

 of the Genera of Bats," (Philosophical JNIagazine, vol. 6, 

 N. S.,) observes, thatthis genus dependson the "deciduous 

 nature of the teeth." The Baron Cuvier, though he men- 

 tions Nycticeus with some favour, still he does not adopt 

 it; I have myself, however, but little doubt that the dis- 

 tinctions noticed by Professor R. will be found permanent 




290 



THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, 



In the retired spot where I now reside, I have been 

 much amused with a species of Bat which differs in its 

 general appearance very much from tliose which common- 

 ly inhabit eastward of the Alleghany Mountains. Just as 

 the sun sinks behind the lofty hills which encompass our 

 village, it is my custom to pass the twilight hours near an 

 old dwelling which stands about midway up one of the highest 

 steeps, and is on the road side near the centre of the town. 

 Here flocks of Bats commence their nocturnal flights; im- 

 mediately on leaving their hiding places, they skim in 

 little groups through the air for a few minutes, and then 

 gradually separate from each other, some mounting very 

 high in the atmosphere, and others descending to the foot 

 of the hill for the purpose of drink. These Bats have 

 taken possession of the old building, in the space between 

 the weather-boards and the inside plastering, and are so nu- 

 merous, that I have counted at one time about two hun- 

 dred and fifty as they escaped through a single crevice. 

 Towards sunset they press forwards to this opening in such 

 numbers, that there are often some hard combats between 

 them which shall first push through and get on the wing. 

 As different genera of insects inhabit the air at greater or 

 less altitudes, so those animals which prey upon them will 

 fly most generally in diflerent ranges in search of food. 

 Our Bat seems to prefer a loftier region for this purpose 

 than those which I have noticed in the Atlantic States. By 

 this means they also escape in a great measure from their 

 deadly foe, the owl, who prowls most successfully in the 

 regions below. The following is a description of one of 

 these Bats, which darted into my study the other evening. 



Vespertilio Domesticus. — Green. 



Four incisors in the upper jaw near the canines, with a 

 large unoccupied space between them, each pair being of 

 unequal lengths — the tooth nearest the canines the long- 

 est; upperlip furnished with numerous short bristles; nares 

 placed laterally at the base of a wart-like prominence, 

 which gives to the nose a slightly bifid appearance; ears 

 remote, naked, broad, entire, much longer than the head; 

 auriculum, or tragus, entire, lanceolate, obtuse rather 

 more than half the length of the ears; pelage above mouse 

 colour, darkest over the nose; lighter below, with a dark 

 fawn coloured spot near the axilla; wings and interfe- 

 moral membrane naked; tail scarcely projecting beyond 

 the membrane; length from the tip of the nose to the end 

 of the tail, three inches and one-fourth; breadth across the 

 wings, when fully expanded, nine inches and a quarter. 



Shells. 



The stream of water which flows during the summer 



and autumnal months sluggish along the base of our hills, 

 becomes in the spring a deep and rapid river from the 

 melting snows and heavy rains. Large boats and rafts of 

 timber are thus easily floated from the village to Pitts- 

 burg. At the season of the year when I visit this spot, 

 the creek, as it is called, contains but very few fish, but it 

 abounds with many interesting aquatic productions. Seve- 

 ral species of he Unio and Cyclas in many places literally 

 pave the bed of the stream. Near its mouth most of the 

 fresh water shells common to upper portions of the Ohio 

 river are found in great perfection and abundance. Higher 

 up the stream we find beautiful specimens of the Unio 

 Rubiginosus in considerable numbers, a species not com- 

 monly met with near the junction of the creek with the 

 Ohio river. Every American conchologist is aware that 

 our great western rivers and their tributary streams con- 

 tain an almost infinite variety of species belonging to the 

 genus Unio. Some of the species appear to inhabit all 

 portions of these waters indiscriminately, while others 

 seem to be confined to distinct and often remote localities. 

 In illustration of these remarks, I would now describe a 

 few large shells which I examined and named a number 

 of years since, but which seems to have escaped the notice 

 of ourconchologists. The first specimensof this shell which 

 I observed were from the Falls of St. Anthony; I after- 

 wards received it from the Bayou Teche, but I have never 

 discovered nor ascertained that it exists in the Ohio. 



Unio Capax. — Green. 



Testa ovato-triangulari, ventricosa; valvulis tenuibus-hiantibus ; 

 natibus prominentibus ; margarita coeruleo-alba et iridescente. 



The valves of this shell are much more convex or 

 globose than any of the uniones which I have seen; and as 

 they are quite thin compared with most of the western 

 species, the cavity in which the animal is lodged is ex- 

 ceedingly capacious — hence its name. The anterior end 

 is broad, rounded, and slightly angular near the hinge; the 

 posterior margin is very narrow, and also rounded; these 

 valves do not close perfectly on each other, but gape at 

 the opposite margins; this is more remarkable in old than 

 in young individuals. The epidermis is smooth, yellow- 

 ish, and frequently clouded with brown. The nacre is 

 bluish white, and often very beautifully iridescent. The 

 beaks are recurved over the tegument. The teeth resem- 

 ble very much those of the U. ovatus of Mr. Say, but 

 they are much thinner. These characters, I think, will 

 be sufficient to distinguish the Unio Capax from every 

 other shell. 



On some other occasion I propose to notice more parti- 

 cularly the multitude of land shells which inhabit our 




AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



neighbouring woods and mountains. I intend now to de- 

 scribe a beautiful little Helicina, found by James S. Craft, 

 Esq., last year, while rambling over the hills not far from 

 the mouth of our creek. The Helicina is by no means a 

 connmon shell in the United States, and has never before 

 been discovered so far to the north. It has, indeed, so 

 much the character and general aspect of a West-India 

 species, that I suggested a doubt on this subject to Mr. 

 Craft, who thus replied to my inquiries: "Of this fact 

 rest assured; it is a native of our own hills, whether an 

 emigrant from the West Indies may have been its progeni- 

 tor or not. I found the individual you have alive, and 

 have since discovered several others." Mr. Say, in his 

 excellent work on American Conchology, has described 

 and figured two species of Helicina; the one from Florida, 

 which he calls orbiculata, somewhat resembles our 

 species. 



Helicina Rubella. — Green- 



Shell more than one-fourth of an inch broad, subglobose; 

 spire slightly elevated, conical; whorls five or six, with 

 minute oblique striae; sutures slightly impressed; epider- 

 mis smooth and of a light brick-red colour; aperture irre- 

 gularly lunate, or semi-elliptical; outer lip white, callous, 

 and partially reflected near the base; operculum, corne- 

 ous, smooth. 



1 will conclude this paper by describing another little 

 shell, to which I have applied a very big name. It is 

 quite common in the fresh water streams in the mountain- 

 ous regions of Pennsylvania, but I think is not to be met 

 with near the Atlantic. 



Paludina Alleghanensis. — Green. 



Shell conical, spire elevated and rather obtuse; whorls 

 four, rounded and nearly smooth; the ultimate whorl the 

 largest; mouth oval, slightly angular near the upper part 

 of the peristome, where it adheres to the body-whorl, 

 umbilicus none; epidermis dark brown colour; length two- 

 tenths of an inch. Fine specimens of this shell are in the 

 Cabinet of Mr. W. Hyde. 



ON THE PHENOMENA OF HYBRID ANIMALS. 



It may be laid down as a general rule, admitting of 

 very few exceptions among quadrupeds, that the hybrid 

 progeny is steril, and there seem to be no well-authenti- 

 cated examples of the continuance of the mule race beyond 

 one generation. The principal number of observations 



and experiments relate to the mixed offspring of the horse 

 and the ass; and in this case it is well established, that the 

 male mule can generate and the female mule produce. 

 Such cases occur in Spain and Italy, and much more fre- 

 quently in the West Indies and New Holland; but these 

 mules have never bred in cold climates, seldom in warm 

 regions, and still more rarely in temperate countries. 



The hybrid offspring of the female ass and the stallion, 

 the ynm of Aristotle, and the hinnus of Pliny, differ 

 from the mule, or the offspring of the ass and mare. In 

 both cases, says Bufibn, these animals retain more of the 

 mother than of the father, not only in the magnitude, but 

 in the figure of the body; whereas, in the form of the head, 

 limbs, and tail, they bear a greater resemblance to the 

 father. The same naturalist infers, from various experi- 

 ments respecting cross-breeds between the he-goat and 

 ewe, the dog and she-wolf, the goldfinch and canary-bird, 

 that the male transmits his sex to the greatest number, and 

 that the preponderance of males over females exceeds 

 that which prevails where the parents are of the same 

 species. 



The celebrated John Hunter has observed, that the true 

 distinction of species must ultimately be gathered from 

 their incapacity of propagating with each other, and pro- 

 ducing offspring capable of again continuing itself. He 

 was unwilling, however, to admit, that the horse and the 

 ass were of the same species, because some rare instances 

 had been adduced of the breeding of mules, which he at- 

 tributed to a degree of monstrosity in the organs of the 

 mule, for these, he suggested, might not have been those 

 of a mixed animal, but those of the mare or female-ass. 

 " This," he argues, "is not a far-fetched idea, for true 

 species produce monsters, and many animals of distinct 

 sex are incapable of breeding at all; and as we find nature, 

 in its greatest perfection, deviating from general princi- 

 ples, why may it not happen likewise in the production 

 of mules, so that sometimes a mule shall breed from 

 the circumstance of its being a monster respecting mules?" 



Yet, in the same memoir, this great anatomist inferred, 

 that the wolf, the dog, and the jackal, were all of one 

 species, because he had found, by two experiments, that 

 the dog would breed both with the wolf and the jackal; 

 and that the mule, in each case, would breed again with 

 the do;,. In these cases, however, we may observe, that 

 there was always one parent at least of pure breed, and no 

 proof was obtained that a true hybrid race could be per- 

 petuated; a fact of which we believe no examples are yet 

 recorded, either in regard to mixtures of the horse and ass, 

 or any other of the mammalia. 



Should the fact be hereafter ascertained, that two mules 

 can propagate their kind, we must still inquire whether 




THE CABINET OF NATURAL HISTORY, AND AMERICAN RURAL SPORTS. 



the offspring may not be regarded in the light of a mon- 

 strous birth, proceeding from some accidental cause, or 

 rather, to speak more philosophically, from some general 

 law not yet understood, but which may not be permitted 

 permanently to interfere with those laws of generation, 

 whereby species may, in general, be prevented from becom- 

 ing blended. If, for example, we discovered that the pro- 

 geny of a mule race, degenerated greatly in the first ge- 

 neration, in force, sagacity, or any attribute necessary 

 for its preservation in a state of nature, we might infer, 

 that, like a monster, it is a mere temporary and fortuitous 

 variety. Nor does it seem probable that the greater num- 

 ber of such monsters could ever occur unless obtain- 

 ed by art; for in Hunter's experiments, stratagem or force 

 was, in most instances, employed. 



It seems rarely to happen that the mule offspring is truly 

 intermediate in character between the two parents. Thus 

 Hunter mentions, that, in his experiments, one of the 

 hybrid pups resembled the wolf much more than the rest 

 of the litter; and we are informed by Wiegmann, that in 

 a litter lately obtained in the Royal Menagerie, at Berlin, 

 from a white pointer and a she-wolf, two of the cubs re- 



sembled the common wolf-dog, but the third was like a 

 pointer with hanging ears. 



There is, undoubtedly, a very close analogy between 

 these phenomena and those presented by the intermixture 

 of distinct races of the same species, both in the inferior 

 animals and in man. Dr. Prichard, in his " Physical His- 

 tory of Mankind," cites examples where the peculiarities 

 of the parents have been transmitted very unequally to 

 the offspring; as where children, entirely white, or per- 

 fectly black, have sprung from the union of the European 

 and the negro. Sometimes the colour, or other peculiari- 

 ties of one parent, after having failed to show themselves 

 in the immediate progeny, reappear in a subsequent gene- 

 ration; as where a white child is born of two black parents, 

 the grandfather having been a white. 



The same author judiciously observes, that if different 

 species mixed their breed, and hybrid races were often 

 propagated, the animal world would soon present a scene 

 of confusion; its tribes would be every where blended to- 

 gether, and we should, perhaps, find more hybrid crea- 

 tures than genuine and uncorrupted races. 



[LyelVs Geology. 



END OP SECOND VOLUME. 




INDEX TO VOLUME II 



A Day's Hunt on the Blue Mountain, or my first 



essay after Deer, - - - - Page 2 1 

 Angling in Surinam, - - - - - 112 



Anecdote of a Dog, 47, 88 



An Excursion to Lake George, - - - 

 A method of forcing Fruit Trees to bear, - 

 American Pine Trees, . . . - 

 A Pennsylvania Hunter, - - - - 

 An Extraordinary Pike, - - - - 

 Anecdote, -..-.. 



A Fountain of Petroleum, called the Oil Spring, 



Almond Tree, 



Anecdote of a Newfoundland Dog, - 



Cat, 



Tame Panther, - 

 A Sporting Dialogue, . . - - 



Fox Hunting, (Breaking Cover, 

 Flocks of Wild Pigeons, - 



Page 49 



266 



B. 



Biographical Sketch of William Bartram, 



Bear Hunting, 



Birds' Eggs and description of Nests, 



Big Bone Lick, Kentucky, . . - 



Building a nest, . - - . - 



Common Salt a remedy for Animal Poison, 



Chamois Hunters, 



Composition of Gun-powder, - - - - 



Catching Wild Asses in Egypt, 



Classification of Animals, . . - - 



D. 



Destruction of Live Stock by Wolves in Russia. 

 Drifting of Animals on Floating Islands, - 

 Deer Hunting in South America, 

 Dispersion of Seeds over the Earth, - 

 Dangerous Plants among Water Cresses, 

 Deer Hunting in South Carolina, 

 Directions for Fishing for Pike, 



120 

 135 

 149 

 166 

 167 

 192 

 196 

 211 

 235 

 246 

 ib. 



71 

 121 



199 

 269 



96 

 107 



47 

 60 



87 

 146 



212 

 232 



gS6 



G. 



Game Laws of New- York, 



H. 



1, 2S, 



History of the Horse, 



Great Horned Owl, - 



Cougar, or Panther, - - - 



Canvas-back Duck, - - - 



Red-headed do., 



Ruby-crowned Wren, 



Blue Jay, - - - - - 



Raccoon, 



Maryland Yellow-throat, - 

 American Red Start, - - - 

 Esquimaux Dog, . . - 



Humming-birds, . - - 



Blue-eyed Yellow Warbler, 

 Scarlet Tanager, 



Gray Fox, . - - - 



Blue Crane, or Heron, 

 Hudsonian Godwit, - - - 

 American Buffalo, or Bison, 

 Flicker, or Golden-winged Wood- 

 pecker, . - - - 



Skunk, 



Gannet 



Polar Bear, . - - - 



Snipe, 



Graj' Squirrel, . - - - 

 Purple Finch, . - - - 

 Pine Finch. . . - - 

 Black Wolf, - - - - 

 Belted Kingsfisher, - - - 

 Buffel-headed Duck, - 



Hunting the Wild Cat in North Carolina, - 



Buffalo. 



■6, 101 

 13 

 25 

 36 

 40 

 61 

 62 

 73 

 S5 

 86 

 97 

 109 

 133 

 ib. 

 145 

 157 

 158 

 16f» 



181 

 193 

 205 

 217 



229 

 241 

 253 

 254 

 265 

 277 

 27S 

 191 

 209 



Extraordinary Sagacity of a Dog, 



Extraordinary Pigeon Match, - - - - 



Effect ofcertainMineralPoisonson Living Plants. 



Emigration of Birds, - - - - - 



Early Awakening of Birds, . . - - 



Extract from the Diary of an Ornithologist 



during a Southern Tour, - - - - 



156 

 190 

 204 

 234 

 240 



Instructions to Young Sportsmen, 



42, 6& 91, 140, 186, 254 

 Incubation, ------- sa 



Influence of Man 



mals. 

 Interesting Story of a Lost Child, 

 Indian Corn, - - - - 



Ivy. 



domesticating Wild Ani- 



128 

 137 

 203 

 260 




INDEX. 



Killing large Insects, 

 Kanguroo Hunting, - 



Page 24 



257 



List of Embellishments to Vol 2. - - - vii 



M. 



Mazeppa, 90 



My Favourite Walks, 95 



Microscopic View of Spiders Weaving their 



Web, 100 



Mahogany Trees, 130 



Manner of preserving Game by Poisoning 



Grounds, - - - - - - 168 



Manners and Habits of the Domestic Cat, - - 195 

 Memoir of a Celebrated Setter Dog, - - - 207 

 Method of Preserving Iron and Steel from Rust- 

 ing, -----.. 212 



N. 



N otes of a Naturalist, by Jacob Green, M. D. , 7, 53, 1 55, 289 



Natural History of the Basse, - - - - 1 38 



0. 



On the Habit of Cleanliness in Birds, 



Ode to May, 



On the Injury the Farmer sustains from Game, 



Obesity, 



On the Phenomena of Hybrid Animals, 



24 

 65 

 237 

 276 

 291 



P. 



Passage across the Great Cordillera, - - - lo 



Percussion Powder, ------ 47 



Pointer and Setter Dogs, or which are best, - 94 



Prognostics of the Weather, - - - - 116 



Partridges, - 120 



Poisonous Serpents, - - - - - 124 



Pigeon Shooting near Boston, - - - - 136 



Pike, ' - - - 175 



Poisonous Fish, 189 



Preservation of Iron from Rust, - - - 235 



Qualities of the 



204 



R. 



Rapid Propagation of Domestic Quadrupeds, - 83 



Rattlesnakes, 120 



Rail Shooting, 143 



Rural Sports, or Recollections of a Sportsman, - 164 



Rifle Shooting, 190 



S. 



Some Passages from the Diary of a Sportsman, 



Page 18, 65, 89, 113, 150 

 Stanzas to the Memory of Alexander Wilson, the 



Ornithologist, 22 



Sporting in India, ----.. 43 



Stanzas to my Horse, by Bulvver, ... gS 



Sargossa, or Sea Weeds, 155 



Sporting in the Wilds of Canada, - - - 158 



Scenes on the Upper Missouri, - - . . 134 



Swallows, - - 222 



Scenery of the West, ..... 230 



Sound the Horn, ...... 236 



Singular Occurrence, 240 



Snow Storm, - 249 



Sleep of Animals during the Winter, - - 259 



Study of Nature, 275 



Subterraneous and Ominous Sounds, ... ib. 



Stanzas to the Mocking-bird, .... 334 



T. 



The Variety of Game in New- Jersey, - - 15 



The Eagle and Wild Cat, -23 



The Lion, 33j 5^ 



The Sportsman's Chamber, .... 44 



To restore the Elasticity of a Damaged Feather, 47 



The Lion and Bear, 68 



The Tarantula, 132 



The Perilous Shot, 139 



The Chamois, 150 



The Grey Hound, 152 



The Leech, igo 



The Valley of Death in the Island of Java, . 2OO 



The Cougar, 2OI 



Tiger Hunting in the East Indies, - - - 210 



The Cork Oak Tree, ib. 



The Hunter's Morning Song, 212 



The Vices and Disagreeable or Dangerous Habits 



of the Horse, - - - 213,236,262 



The Lesser American Flying Squirrel, - - 223 



The Golden Pheasant 227 



The ]\Ielon, 233 



The coming of Winter, - - . . . 239 



The Mocking-bird, 243 



The Tamarind-tree, ----.. 245 



The Rein Deer, ----.. 248 



The Adder, 270 



The Bee, - 271 



The Wolf, 273 



The Wild Boar of Germany, .... 28I 



The European Quail, 285 



U. 



United Bowmen of Philadelphia, - - - 161 

 W. 



Western Shots, 45 



Wild Animals in the Illinois Country, - - 279 










Cabinet of Natural History. 1932 Vol. II 



Received: The book was bound in i straight 

 grained leather with pale green paper sides. 

 The endpapers were plain, and the endbands 

 vere marbled paper over cord. The title was 

 in gold in the 5th panel; the volume number 

 in the third panel. There were double gold 

 lines >dth a decorative roll to indicate 

 panels of the spine, as well as a decorative 

 tool in the panels. There v:as also a deco- 

 rative line where the paper met the leather. 

 The text had been trimmed in rebinding. 

 The leather had red rot, the front and back 

 boards were loose. Many pages were foxed or 

 broiled . 



Treatment: The text was washed in running 

 water and buffered in a solution of mag- 

 nesium bicarbonate. Due to the original 

 adhesive, there was severe abrasion at the 

 foldsof the signatures. The folds were cut 

 off and reguarded into folio signatures. 

 Guards and paper repairs were made with 

 rice starch paste and Japanese paper. The 

 text was veseim v.dth a continuous guard. 

 Adhesive used at the spine was Flex 720, 

 The plates were not treated because ot was 

 feared the hand coloring would run. Due to a 

 ragged tab at pages 157-58 it appears that a 

 plate -iras removed from the text.