Emerging from this, we caught sight of a thousand Texan cattle feeding in a valley below. The leaders scented us, and, taking fright, began to move off in the direction of the open "park"; while we were about a mile from and above them. "Head them off, boys!" our leader shouted, "all aboard; hark away!" and with something of the "High, tally-ho in the morning!" away we all went at a hand-gallop down-hill. I could not hold my excited animal; down-hill, up-hill, leaping over rocks and timber, faster every moment the pace grew, and still the leader shouted, "Go it, boys!" and the horses dashed on at racing speed, passing and repassing each other, till my small but beautiful bay was keeping pace with the immense strides of the great buck-jumper, ridden by "the finest rider in North Americay," and I was dizzied and breathless by the pace at which we were going.

A shorter time than it takes us to tell it brought us close to and abreast of the surge of cattle. The bovine waves were a grand sight; huge bulls, shaped like buffaloes, bellowed and roared, and with great oxen, and cows with yearling calves, galloped like racers, and we galloped alongside of them, and shortly headed them, and in no time were placed as sentinels across the mouth of the valley. It seemed like infantry awaiting the shock of cavalry as we stood as still as our excited horses would allow. I almost quailed as the surge came on, but when it got close to us, my comrades hooted fearfully, and we dashed forward with the dogs, and with bellowing, roaring thunder of hoofs the wave receded as it came. I rode up to our leader, who received me with much laughter. He said I was "a good cattle-man," and that he had forgotten that a lady was of the party till he saw me come leaping over the timber, and driving with the others."

66

It was not for two hours after this that the real

J

business of the driving began, and I was obliged to change my thoroughbred for a well-trained cattle-horse -a broncho, which could double like a hare, and go over any ground. I had not expected to work like a vachero, but so it was, and my Hawaiian experience was very useful. We hunted the various canyons and known "camps," driving the herds out of them, and, until we had secured 850 head in the corral some hours afterwards, we scarcely saw each other to speak to. Our first difficulty was with a herd which got into some swampy ground, when a cow, which afterwards gave me an infinity of trouble, remained at bay for nearly an hour, tossing the dog three times, and resisting all efforts to dislodge her. She had a large yearling calf with her, and Evans told me that the attachment of a cow to her first calf is sometimes so great that she will kill her second that the first may have the milk. I got a herd of over a hundred out of a canyon by myself, and drove them down to the river with the aid of one badly'broken dog, which gave me more trouble than the cattle.

The getting over was most troublesome; a few took to the water readily and went across, but others smelt it, and then doubling back, ran in various directions, while some attacked the dog as he was swimming, and others, after crossing, headed back in search of some favourite companions which had been left behind, and one specially vicious cow attacked my horse over and over again. It took an hour and a half of time and much patience to gather them all on the other side.

It was getting late in the day, and a snow-storm was impending, before I was joined by the other drivers and herds, and as the former had diminished to three, with only three dogs, it was very difficult to keep the cattle in together. You drive them as gently as possible, so as not to frighten or excite them, riding first on

one side and then on the other, to guide them; and if they deliberately go in the wrong direction you gallop in front and head them off. The great excitement is when one breaks away from the herd, and gallops madly up and down hill, and you gallop after him anywhere, over and among rocks and trees, doubling when he doubles, and heading him till you get him back again. The bulls were quite easily managed, but the cows with calves, old or young, were most troublesome. By accident I rode between one cow and her calf in a narrow place, and the cow rushed at me, and was just getting her big horns under the horse, when he reared, and spun dexterously aside. This kind of thing happened continually.

There was one very handsome red cow which became quite mad. She had a calf with her nearly her own size, and thought every one its enemy, and though its horns were well developed and it was well able to take care of itself, she insisted on protecting it from all fancied dangers.

One of the dogs, a young, foolish thing, seeing the cow was excited, took a foolish pleasure in barking at her, and she was eventually quite infuriated. She turned to bay forty times at least, tore up the ground with her horns, tossed the great hunting dogs, and tossed and killed the calves of two other cows, and finally became so dangerous to the rest of the herd that, just as the drive was ending, Evans drew his revolver and shot her, and the calf for which she had fought so blindly lamented her piteously. She rushed at me several times, mad with rage, but the trained cattle-horses keep perfectly cool, and nearly without will on my part, mine jumped aside at the right moment, and foiled the

assailant.

Just at dusk we reached the corral—an acre of grass enclosed by stout post and rail fences seven feet high,

and by much patience and some subtlety lodged the whole herd within its shelter, without a blow, a shout, or even a crack of a whip, wild as the cattle were. It was fearfully cold, we galloped the last mile and a half in four and a half minutes, reached the cabin just as snow began to fall, and found strong hot tea ready. ISABELLA L. BIRD.

THE PRIVATE OF THE BUFFS.

1. Last night, among his fellow roughs
He jested, quaffed, and swore;
A drunken private of the Buffs,
Who never looked before.
To-day, beneath the foeman's frown,
He stands in Elgin's place,
Ambassador from Britain's crown,
And type of all her race.

2. Poor, reckless, rude, low-born, untaught,
Bewildered, and alone,

A heart, with English instinct fraught,
He yet can call his own.
Ay, tear his body limb from limb,
Bring cord, or axe, or flame :
He only knows, that not through him
Shall England come to shame.

3. Far Kentish hop-fields round him seem'd,
Like dreams, to come and go;

Bright leagues of cherry-blossom gleam'd
One sheet of living snow;

The smoke, above his father's door,
In grey soft eddyings hung:
Must he then watch it rise no more,
Doom'd by himself, so young?

4. Yes, honour calls!-with strength like steel
He put the vision by.

Let dusky Indians whine and kneel;
An English lad must die.

And thus, with eyes that would not shrink,
With knee to man unbent,
Unfaltering on its dreadful brink,

To his red grave he went.

5. Vain, mightiest fleets of iron framed;
Vain, those all-shattering guns;
Unless proud England keep, untamed,
The strong heart of her sons.

So, let his name through Europe ring-
A man of mean estate,

Who died, as firm as Sparta's king,
Because his soul was great.

SIR F. H. DOYLE.

fraught

XLVII.

AMONG THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.--IV. Travelling by Canoe.

Among all the modes of progression hitherto invented by restless man, there is not one that can compare in respect of comfort and luxury with travelling in a birch-bark canoe. It is the poetry of progression. Along the bottom of the boat are laid blankets and