up, and overpowers their victim. They are so far a blessing to India, for there is no doubt that but for them the breed of tigers would prove far more numerous and troublesome. I do not know that the dhole has ever been kept long in confinement in this country; nor do I think that confinement with an European climate would at all agree with him; and strict confinement would alone answer him, as, were he to be set at liberty, his ravages would surpass those detailed in the most romantic accounts of the depredations of the most ferocious wolf. If the latter be ferocious, he at least can be intimidated. Fear and the dhole are strangers to each other; he knows not what it is.

THE WILD DOG OF SOUTH AMERICA.-This dog, or as the natives term him, BUCK DOG, I take to be the same described by some naturalists under the name of Canis Braziliensis. His head resembles that of the dhole and dingo, but his muzzle is shorter, terminates more abruptly, and partakes more of the aspect of our common fox. His hair is long, and tail very bushy; his colour is grey, rather brownish above, on the muzzle, and on the legs. It is very like the wolf in appearance, and there is in the museum of natural history, in the Edinburgh University, a stuffed animal which strongly resembles it; not being labelled, however, I cannot say whether it be really a specimen of this variety of dog, or of one of the smaller varieties of wolf. This dog is about the size of a common Scotch colley, scarcely so large as the dingo, and not unlike the jackal in general appearance, but rather more hairy, shorter and stouter in his make, and much more powerful. These dogs form earths for themselves, like foxes, and are hunted by the natives and colonists just as we hunt foxes in Britain. They afford a long chase, and make little or no fight when taken. I have been informed by native Americans that they are oc⚫ casionally susceptible of domestication, and when tamed are often associated with domestic dogs in the chase of their own species, which duty they perform with all the good will imaginable, and from their speed and powers of endurance prove valuable allies.

A South American gentleman whom I met in Edinburgh assured me that he had some of these dogs so tame as to be used as civet hounds, and that they were infinitely superior to the curs commonly used in that description of sport, not only in their speed and sagacity, but in the skill they displayed in saving their legs from the powerful jaws of that animal. The civet, he told me, was not considered as one of the nobler beasts of chase; hence valuable hounds were never used in pursuit of it, as its capture would not compensate their owner for the desperate wounds, and perhaps broken legs, which they frequently received. The civet, he informed me, almost invariably directed its attack to the fore-legs, and possessed such force of jaw as not unfrequently to break the bone completely across.

We now come to the WILD DOGS OF AFRICA, of which there are evidently two distinct races. One of these has been described by Labat as being very ugly, naked animals, with erect ears like the fox, and unable to bark. However ugly they may be, the natives eat their flesh with much relish, and sell them in the market as we do

*Afrique Occidental.

sheep and hogs; and so highly are they esteemed as articles of diet, that a native considers a sheep or goat as a fair equivalent for a fat one. The natives reclaim some of them, but their progeny, as in other cases, turns out wild. Speaking of the wild dogs of Western Africa leads me to mention a curious anecdote respecting the domesticated ones. When first European dogs were brought among these people, they having never before heard a dog bark, took it into their heads that these foreigners spoke in a language of their own. It was to no purpose that the poor savages were attempted to be undeceived. They were convinced of the truth of their conjecture, and discovering that barking was capable of communication, formed establishments called "Barking Schools," in which European dogs were the teachers; and dogs out of these seminaries sold for very high prices. After awhile, such native dogs as had learned to bark were promoted to the rank of teachers, and employed in the instruction of their brethren. Whether the learning to bark was ultimately regarded as an acquisition or not I cannot say, but I think there can be no doubt that this new whim of their masters saved many poor dogs their lives, many animals that would otherwise have gone to the shambles, being thus found fit for other and nobler work. So I doubt not, whatever the sentiments of the masters may have been, the poor dogs hailed with infinite pleasure the happy tidings that "the schoolmaster was abroad."

The other species of wild dog peculiar to Africa is the wild dog of Loango, which hunts in large packs, like the dhole of India, and will, like that animal, hunt down and destroy the largest and most formidable beasts, as the lion and tiger, and even the elephant. The colour of this dog is a reddish brown. Their tails are carried in a curve like the greyhounds. Nearly allied to, if not actually identical with, this dog, is the animal since discovered by that enterprizing and scientific traveller, Mr. Burchell, and by him designated "Hyæna Venatica," or "Hunting Hyæna"-the canis pictus of Desmarest. This variety is a native of Southern Africa, and is particularly numerous and troublesome, even on the frontier settlement, at no great distance from the Cape. In size and form it differs from the hyæna or wolf, in being smaller and slimmer; but it bears, at the same time, a much closer resemblance to the former than to the latter. Its colour is reddish yellow-brown, with patches of black and white distributed irregularly over the body and along the legs; its muzzle is black, and a strongly marked black line passes from it over the head to between the ears. The ears are very large, black both on the inner and outer surface; the anterior margin is furnished with a tuft of whitish hairs. The tail is moderately long and bushy, divided in the middle by a ring of black, below which it is nearly white, as are also the forelegs below the joint. These markings are not the same in every individual, but vary considerably. I once saw a hyæna dog of a light bay colour, shaded above with black, and with dark stripes down the sides and on the legs; feet and belly white. This individual was very gentle, and suffered himself to be caressed by strangers.

The hyæna dog is an animal of nocturnal habits, and hunts in packs. He is not only resolute and fierce, but very swift and active,

so much so that no animal, a pack has once selected as a quarry, has much chance of escape. Sheep, cattle, and horses are its favourite prey. For the mode of its assault on cattle or horses, from whom it might expect some resistance, it exhibits singular caution. Its attack is made by night, and, creeping among its victims, it bites off their tails. This does not say much for its courage.

There are many other descriptions of wild dogs, which I do not think it necessary to treat of in these papers, and therefore have confined myself to the principal varieties.

SPORTS ON THE CORNISH MOORS.

BY MASTER HARRY.

How we adore those glorious old moors, barren and uninviting though they appear!

"What a superb day's hunting! what a delightful day's-by Jove! we were just going to say fishing! But, hold! we are no fisherman. To be sure, we have sat on a rock, opposite Barnpool at Plymouth, and "bobbed," not " for whales," but for sticklebacks; but this was when we were under the influence of Jack Macauley and his birch (peace to both their manes!); and even since then we have been goose enough, after reading some delightful, soul-exciting article on fishing in the pages of this Magazine, most probably from that most delectable of all amusing quills, SILVANUS SWANQUILL, to fancy that we could "go and do likewise;" and, as a child, after reading William Tell's history, immediately flies to bows and arrows, so have we put together the old fishing-rod, in a piscatorial monomania, and, having caused an earthquake in the stable-heap, and conjoined a line and gut with a "hook at the end of it," gone forth to impale worms, and insinuate, in anything but a gentle manner, "Limerick bends" (bother them!) into our legs, our fingers, and the surrounding bushes -in fact, into every imaginable locality, except that of a trout's mouth: so, never having even experienced the felicity of a "nibble" in our lives, it was very natural and excusable that we should "cut" angling, and take to "dragging." Should that be considered legitimate sporting, we just fancy we could give the reader a treat, and make his mouth water for the sport; but, for fear of raising old Izaak's ghost, and some fly-fishers' ill-feelings, we will be silent. Our last feat in that line was perhaps unparalleled in the annals of "fish-catching"-it was glorious! and all accomplished by an old

poaching cyclopean Vulcan of the village and "Master Harry!" Talk of your fly-fishing, indeed! we just turned off the mill-stream about a mile and a half up the valley-that sweetest of all valleysand picked up the "whole boiling" of trout, as they lay kicking, gasping, and floundering on the dry bed of the river-eight dozen, if there was one-and without all the disagreeabilities of hooking our legs, trying our patience, or wetting our feet. We just "could unfold," but not such a one, Mr. Gentle Reader, as you, being perhaps a fisherman, would delight no doubt in seeing unfolded, and a birch placed "in every honest hand"—

"To flog the rascal naked through the world."

No; we will have nothing to do with fishing on the moors-that is to say at present. If hereafter we are unfortunate enough so as to marry, or lose our 3 per cents., or get an attack of the small-pox, we won't say what may happen; but at present we say sincerely to the trout, what Uncle Toby said to the fly," Live on, poor devil! there's room enough in this world for both of us." (We don't know whether he said "poor devil!" exactly-we merely quote from memory.) No! besides, were we a piscator, it would be out of season to talk about it at this time of the year. The very name of rippling brooks only brings to our imagination icicles and skates, and makes us shiver and shake, in spite of the huge yule log that is burning beside us. Down, Carlo, you rascal! down, sir! Oh, you want us to write about shooting, do you, old boy, in order to come in for a slice of notoriety? Very well, old dog; you've done us many a good service, and we will do you one now. But the snow has ceased; and surely we must find a flight of ducks to-day on the moors; if we don't, snipe, plovers, perhaps a heron, or, at all events, a fine rattling walk will reward our exertion-En-avant!"

"Hi, Fan bitch! come, Carlo!" And we are standing on the untrodden, spotless snow, "sending home" two loads of No. 7, with a walk of four miles before us to the moors. Across the lawn, through the plantations, and up the "interminable" hill, we stand at last on the "common;" a few furze (gorse) bushes interrupt the otherwise unbroken carpet of snow that has fallen on its surface; no other vegetation is visible. How black the heavens look, in contrast with the snowy surface of the ground! and how the north-east wind whistles through the few gorse-bushes that lie in our path! Not a cottage is visible-not a sign of life-and so silent, with the exception of the gusts of wind whirring over the expanse, is everything around, that our very footfall on the snow seems loud enough to frighten off whatever may be within gunshot of us. Ah! the track of a puss! To heels, dogs! back! And, slinking down, we examine the marks, which have evidently been left since the snow ceased-(click, click!) -and slyly and steadily we crawl onwards, our eye intently tracking pussy's path. The dogs get impatient, and it is as much as we can do to restrain them. Faster and faster we proceed as we near a large patch of gorse-bushes, whose branches are almost broken with the weight of snow, and through the apertures of which we perceive the green sod beneath. We are among them. We are among them. "Hie in, dogs!" Well,

not here! this is a mystery: when, lo! we accidentally "put our foot in it," and actually kicked Miss Puss from out of her snug and cosy seat. Away she bounds over the snow, with the spaniels at her heels; but her figure, thrown in bold relief against the ground of snow, made our aim too sure, and in another minute "poor puss" had found her last "form" in our shooting-coat pocket. Well, that has put a little life in us; at all events, we have not come out for nothing. And how delighted, too, appear the spaniels! But we cannot carry this huge hare in our pockets all day-no, no; we want to have those empty for the ducks and snipe that it is our present intention to fill them with, before we again get home. Ah! the very thing: before us appears in sight the old turnpike; its walls were white before, and now the roof is in keeping with the remainder; no one that did not know where it stood would, in fact, be able to see it at all, so completely has it put on the uniform of all nature around it. We'll run up, and leave our game there until we return, and see if we can get a bet out of the old "'pikeman," similar to the one he made with our friend Captain G, R.N., some time previously. But we must not hint at that, or we shall find our hare roasted and eaten on our return, to a moral certainty. However, although we must not broach the theme before our "'pike"-keeper, that is no reason why our reader should be debarred the pleasure of hearing how the old boy lost a five-pound-note, one fine snowy morning, by a presumptuous bet.

Few people were better known in the neighbourhood than Captain G-, both for his reckless intrepidity on his own quarter-deck, before an enemy, and his equal courage in the chase, and eccentricities generally. It was on some such a morning as the one we have just before spoken of, that, being attacked by a fit of blue-devils-and where are they more plentiful than in a country-town on a snowy December's day, to a person having nothing to do?-he took his gun, and proceeded forth on an excursion against anything that came in his way. At length he reached the turnpike: there was its lord and master, looking out in vain expectation of taking a sixpence, for neither horse nor carriage was visible such weather, with a nose as blue as his old "missus's" apron. He soon spied the captain, and, with a malicious grin on his countenance-for the captain, although a staunch sportsman, was never, if we recollect right, a very "crack shot"-began the parley:

"Thee beest gwaing (going) shooting, eh? Much thee'll shoot, I fancies. He! he! he!

"Ill shoot more than you'll carry, old gentleman, with all your 'He! he! he!'s, or I'm much mistaken."

"Thee shoot more than I'll carry ?-THEE? Why, thee can't hit a haystack."

This roused our hero's bile.

"Why, you d-d old Philistine, I'll bet you £5 down that, if you'll come on the moors with me till the evening, I will kill as much and more than you'll carry home."

"Done!" said the "Philistine," lugging out a "flimsy" from an old greasy bag, and, calling on the "missus" to mind the gate, he