from the condition of deer in a northern climate, and on a churlish soil unsheltered by woods, conspire to reduce these animals to so feeble a state that the short summer which follows is wholly insufficient to bring them to the size they are capable of attaining under better management.

There is no animal more shy or solitary by nature than the red-deer. He takes the note of alarm from every living thing on the moor - all seem to be his sentinels. The sudden start

of an animal, the springing of a moor-fowl, the complaining note of a plover, or of the smallest bird in distress, will set him off in an instant... He is always most timid when he does not see his adversary, for then he suspects an ambush. If, on the contrary, he has him in full view, he is as cool and circumspect as possible; he then watches him most acutely, endeavors to discover his intention, and takes the best possible method to defeat it... In this case, he is never in a hurry or confused, but repeatedly stops and watches his disturber's motions; and when at length he does take his measure, it is a most decisive one; a whole herd will sometimes force their way at the very point where the drivers are the most numerous, and where there are no rifles; so that I have seen the hill-men fling their sticks at them, while they have raced away without a shot being fired.

When a stag is closely pursued by dogs, and feels that he cannot escape from them, he flies to the best position he can, and defends himself to the last extremity. This is called going to bay... If he is badly wounded, or very much over-matched in speed, he has little choice of ground; but if he is pursued in his native mountains, he will select the most defensible spot he has it in his power to reach; and woe be unto the dog that approaches him rashly. His instinct always leads him to the rivers, where his long legs give him a great advantage over the deer-hounds. Firmly he holds his position, whilst they swim powerless about him, and would die from cold and fatigue before they could make the least impression on him... Sometimes he will stand upon a rock in the midst of the river, making a most majestic appearance, and in this case it will always be found that the spot on which he stands is not approachable on his rear. In this situation he takes such a sweep with his antlers, that he could exterminate a whole pack of the most powerful lurchers that were pressing too closely upon him in front. He is secure from all but man, and the rifle shot must end him. Superior dogs may pull him down when running, but not when he stands at bav.

The deer, like many other animals, seems to foresee every

change of weather: at the approach of a storm he leaves the higher hills, and descends to the low grounds, sometimes even two days before the change takes place. Again, at the approach of a thaw, he leaves the low grounds and goes to the mountains by a similar anticipation of change. He never perishes in snow-drifts, like sheep, since he does not shelter himself in hollows, but keeps the bare ground, and eats the tops of the heather.

Harts are excellent swimmers, and will pass from island to island in quest of hinds or change of food. It is asserted that the rear hart in swimming rests his head on the croup of the one before him; and that all follow in the same manner. They do not run well up hill when fat, but they will beat any dog in such oblique paths as have been trodden out by them in the precipitous and stony parts of the mountain... The hardness and sharp edges of their hoof give them great tenacity, and prevent them suffering from the stones, whilst a dog, having no defense against injury, is obliged to slacken his pace. The bone also of a deer's foot is small and particularly hard, and it is this peculiar construction which renders him as strong as he is fleet. Scrope.

THE CHAMOIS, AND CHAMOIS HUNTING.

THE animals which lend the greatest charm to the mountains are the chamois; those beautiful, swift-footed goats of the rock, which wander in small herds through the loneliest districts of the Alps, people the highest ridges, and course rapidly over leagues of ice-fields. Though much resembling the goat, the chamois is distinguished from it by longer and larger legs, a longer neck, a shorter and more compact body, and especially by its horns, which are black and curved like a hook... These horns are much used in ornamenting those ingenious fabrics which the Swiss peasants make, and which travellers bring back as memorials from that country.

They live together in herds of five, ten, or twenty. Their grace and agility are very remarkable. They bound across wide and deep chasms, and balance themselves on the most difficult ledges; then, throwing themselves on their hind legs, reach securely the landing place, often no bigger than a man's hand, on which their unerring eye has been fixed. It is difficult to give a trustworthy account of this noble animal's agility.

Their wonderful sense of smell, sight, and hearing, preserves the chamois from many perils. When they are collected in troops, they will appoint a doe as sentinel, which grazes alone

at a little distance, while the others are feeding or gambolling, and looks round every instant snuffing the air with her nose... If she perceives any danger, she gives a shrill whistle, and the rest fly after her at a gallop. But their most acute sense is that of smell. They scent the hunter from an immense distance if he stands in the direction of the wind... The trained chamois hunters of Switzerland belong to the poorer classes. They are a sturdy frugal race, inured to all weathers and familiar with the details of the mountains, the habits of the animals, and the art of hunting them... The hunter needs a sharp eye, a steady hand, a robust frame, a spirit resolute, calm, ready and circumspect; and, besides all this, good lungs and untiring energy. He must be not only a first-rate shot, but also a first-rate climber; for the chamois hunter often finds himself in positions where he must exert every limb and muscle to the utmost, in order to support or push himself forward.

The ordinary preparations of the hunter consist of a warm dress, with a cap or felt hat, a strong Alpine staff, a pouch with powder, bullets, and telescope, bread and cheese, and a little flask of spirits. In order to procure something warm, he takes an iron bowl and a portion of meal, roasted and salted beforehand, and makes it into a porridge over a fire, morning and evening, mixing it with water. But the most essential parts of the equipment are a pair of stout mountain shoes and

a gun.

The hunter starts by starlight in the evening, or at midnight, in order to gain the highest hunting ground before sunrise. He knows the haunts of the game, their favorite pastures and hiding-places, and directs his course accordingly. The principal point is always to keep the animals before the wind; for, should the lightest breeze be wafted from him to the chamois, the creature scents him at an immense distance, and is lost. Many hours of patient waiting and watching must be passed before he can get within shot of them.

The chase is not only toilsome, but dangerous. The hunter is often led by the eagerness of his pursuit to the brink of fearful precipices, where a single false step may cause instant death; or to narrow ridges of rock and slippery ice, where it is hard to find firm footing, and where a fall might be fatal... Sometimes he is allured to a spot where he can neither advance nor recede. Sometimes a sharp frost overtakes the weary hunter, and cramps his limbs. If he yields to an almost unconquerable impulse to sit down, he immediately falls asleep, never to wake again. Sometimes a large falling stone wounds him or

dashes him into the abyss; or an avalanche overwhelms him, and buries him deep beneath the snow... But no enemy is more dangerous than the fog, when it surprises him in the awful labyrinth of peaks, leagues and leagues above the dwellings of man, closing in so thickly that often he cannot see six feet before him, and must inevitably be lost unless great presence of mind and local knowledge can extricate him from the peril. His situation is yet worse if the fog be followed by a snow-storm covering up every track on the ground before him.

The actual profits of the chase bear no proportion to the perils, labor, and loss of time which it involves. And yet the hunters have a perfect passion for the sport. One at Zurich, who had his leg cut off, gratefully sent his surgeon, two years afterwards, half of a chamois which he had killed, remarking at the same time that the chase did not get on so well with a wooden leg, but he hoped to kill many a chamois yet. This man was seventy-one years old when he lost his leg... Saussure's guide said to him, "A short time since I made a very happy marriage. My father and grandfather both met their end in chamois hunting, and I feel convinced I shall perish in the same manner, but if you would make my fortune on condition I should never hunt, I could not accept it." Two years afterwards he fell down a precipice, and was dashed in pieces.

It has been often remarked that this occupation exercises a decided influence on the character of the hunter. Undoubtedly, the constant warfare with peril, hunger, thirst, and cold which it entails, and the patience, resolution, and dexterity which it calls into such constant practice, must, after ten or twenty years of life, mark the tone of thought and feeling in no slight degree. Accordingly, we find the chamois hunter generally silent, prompt, and decided in word and action, and at the same time temperate, frugal, contented, and easily reconciled to unavoidable evils.

THE LION OF ALGERIA.

IT seems that, after all, we knew little about the lion till Gérard, an officer in the French army in Algeria, made that animal his study, and enlightened us. We hardly knew what the lion was like, to begin with; for we judged of him by the specimens we behold caged in menageries-animals, as Gérard says, taken from the teat when puppies, deprived of the liberty and free mountain air essential to them- in fact, reared like rabbits in a hutch. But wild, and in Algeria, the lion attains a size beyond our ideas; and, with his magnificent mane, puts on an

appearance which would absolutely frighten the poodle-like specimens of his kind to be found in zoological gardens.

We have been equally mistaken as to the lion's character; and our mistakes have arisen from this fact, that naturalists and travellers have been content to observe him in the day only, forgetting, at the same time, that he belongs to the feline race, which is quite out of its element in the sunshine. The fact is, that the existence of a lion is divided into two distinct portions, which assume two distinct phases; and thus numberless errors with regard to him have arisen. These two periods are the day and the night... Now in day-time, his habit is to retire into the shade and silence of the forest, there to sleep, and to digest at his ease the rather heavy meal of the night before. Thence, because a man has chanced to meet face to face, and with impunity, a lion in such circumstances, or when, compelled by thirst, insects, or the burning sun, he has been lazily seeking fresh quarters, it has been concluded that he will not attack man...It has been forgotten that the animal was half asleep, and had his stomach full, perhaps a little fuller than was convenient. The truth simply is, that the lion does not slay for the pleasure of slaying; he kills to eat, or to rid himself of an enemy when attacked; and in a country like Algeria, abounding with flocks and herds, the lion is never hungry during the day... The natives know that so well, that, while they do not fear to travel alone in daylight, they take care to be at home by the hour when he leaves his den to seek his supper. At night the Arabs never go many yards from their tents alone.

Gérard the lion-slayer, who would go down into the lion's path in darkness, declares that an unarmed man who meets a lion in the night is undoubtedly lost. Even if he be armed, the chances are immensely against him, owing to the fact that a first shot, however well aimed, seldom or never kills a lion; and a lion mortally wounded is infinitely more dangerous than a lion whole.

Lions usually couple about the end of January; but so many lionesses are cut off in infancy by teething that there are always many more males than females, and the lion has considerable difficulty in providing himself with a wife... The lion is the slave of his wife. She always takes precedence; when she stops, he stops. On arriving at the douar (a collection of Arab tents, what we would call a "village") which is to furnish their supper, she lies down while he leaps into the inclosure, and brings to her the booty. He watches her with satisfaction while she eats, taking care that no one shall disturb her repast;