a few leaps, and disappeared from my sight with the swiftness of an arrow. There was no longer daylight enough for me to follow his traces, so that I found myself obliged to wait till the next morning.

"It was scarcely daylight when I hastened to begin my search. I soon discovered traces of blood, which convinced me that I had not missed my aim; and afforded hopes of soon reaching my prey; but it was not until noon that I discovered the animal lying down at a great distance. He rose, made a few bounds, and lay down again. When I had crept nearer, he appeared to see me; but, as he made a bound, he was reached by another shot, which I aimed at him; and I at length found myself in possession of a prey which had been the object of all my efforts during twenty days.

"I still had many dangers to encounter from the jealousy of the Italian hunters; for I was not on the Swiss territory. In order to avoid this risk, I was obliged carefully to shun the beaten paths and inhabited places, and steal, by night, through the most difficult passes, I was more than once on the point of losing my life. At length, I accomplished my task, and arrived at my house extremely fatigued."

LONDON SIGHTS.-No. 3.

St. Paul's Cathedral.

In every quarter of the globe has the name of Loti don been heard; the fame of her greatness extends to the limits of the earth. On the first view, London appears all wealth, all power, all happiness, the public buildings which adorn her streets seem noble enough to form palaces for the world's monarchs; and the houses of her citizens splendid enough for nobles' halls. But look closer, and the delusion is broken. Thousands are at the lowest ebb of poverty-whilst the warehouses of this emporium are crowded with merchandise. Many, very many, are wanting the necessaries of life, whilst the ships of England are dotting every ocean, and bringing from every land the choicest of its productions.

The view we present of this mighty city is taken from Blackfriar's Bridge.

Here are houses so thickly clustered that they seem one solid mass; at short distances from each other, the heaven pointing spires rise; whilst in the centre of them, and far above them all, like a monarch surrounded by his princes, the magnificent Cathedral of St. Paul rears its lofty dome, a short account of which magnificent structure we subjoin for the instruction and amusement of our youthful readers :

This vast fabric and its churchyard are surrounded by a low wall, surmounted by a strong iron balustrade. The form of the cathedral is that of a cross. Its length, within the walls, is 500 feet; its breadth from north to south, within the doors of the porticoes, 223, and in the grand entrance, 110 feet.

Magnificent as the appearance of this structure is without, the interior is, if anything, still more imposing. On entering the building, its vast extent fills the beholder with admiration; but it is immediately beneath the dome, on casting the eye upward, that the grandeur is more particularly descernible. The interior of the dome is adorned with a series of paintings by Sir James Thornhill, illustrative of the most remarkable events in the life of St. Paul; but the effect is lost from their being placed at too great a distance from the spectator.

The first stone of this cathedral was laid on the