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where the stalker sees a stag about a mile off. He immediately prostrates himself on the ground, and in a second the rest follow his example. We will not follow all the different manœuvres of the deer-stalker and his followers, but bring them at once near the unconscious stag. After performing a very considerable circuit, moving sometimes forward and sometimes backward, the party arrive at length at the back of a hillock on the opposite side of which the stalker said in a whisper the stag was lying, and that he was not distant a hundred yards. The whole party immediately moved forward in silence and breathless expectation, with the dogs in front, straining in the slips. On reaching the top of the hillock a full view of the noble stag presented itself, who, having heard the footsteps, sprang on his legs, and was staring at his enemies at the distance of about sixty yards.

"The dogs were slipped; a general halloa burst from us all, and the stag wheeling round set off at full speed with Buskar and Bruin straining after him. The brown figure of the deer, with his noble antlers laid back, contrasted with the light colour of the dogs, stretching along the dark heath, presented one of the most exciting scenes that it is possible to imagine. The deer's first attempt was to gain some rising ground to the left of the spot where we stood, and rather behind us, but being closely pursued by the dogs, he soon found that his only safety was in speed; and (as a deer does not run well up-hill, nor, like a roe, straight down hill), on the dogs approaching him he turned and almost retraced his footsteps, taking, however, a steeper line of descent than the one by which he ascended. Here the chase became more interesting; the dogs pressed him

hard, and the deer getting confused, found himself suddenly on the brink of a small precipice, of about fourteen feet in height, from the bottom of which there sloped a rugged mass of stones. He paused for a moment, as if afraid to take the leap, but the dogs were so close that he had no alternative. At this time the party were not more than one hundred and fifty yards distant, and most anxiously excited, awaiting the result, fearing from the ruggedness of the ground below that the deer would not survive the leap. They were, however, soon relieved from their anxiety, for though he took the leap he did so more cunningly than gallantly, dropping himself in the most singular manner, so that his hind legs first reached the broken rocks below; nor were the dogs long in following him. Buskar sprang first, and, extraordinary to relate, did not lose his legs. Bruin followed, and on reaching the ground performed a complete somersault. He soon, however, recovered his legs, and the chase was continued in an oblique direction down the side of a most rugged and rocky brae; the deer, apparently more fresh and nimble than ever, jumped through the rocks like a goat, and the dogs well up, though occasionally receiving the most fearful falls. From the high position in which we were placed, the chase was visible for nearly half a mile. When some rising ground intercepted our view we made with all speed for a higher point, and on reaching it we perceived that the dogs, having got upon smooth ground, had gained on the deer, who was still going at speed, and were close up with him. Bruin was then leading, and in a few seconds was at his heels, and immediately seized his hock with such violence of grasp as seemed in a great measure to paralyze the limb.

The deer's speed was immediately checked; Buskar was not far behind, for soon afterwards, passing Bruin, he seized the deer by the neck. Notwithstanding the weight of the two dogs, which were hanging on him, having the assistance of the slope of the ground, he continued dragging them at a most extraordinary rate (in defiance of their united exertions to detain him), and succeeding more than once in kicking Bruin off. But he became at length exhausted, the dogs succeeded in pulling him down, and, though he made several attempts to rise, he never completely regained his legs."

"Nor will it less delight the attentive sage
T'observe that instinct which unerring guides
The brutal race, which mimics reason's lore,
And often transcends.

THE Newfoundland dog is in every respect a noble animal, strongly attached to his master, and ready in case of danger to display all his courage and strength in his defence; he has a generous, affable disposition, which is usually displayed in his benign, open, and friendly countenance. The Newfoundland dog is particularly useful in wildfowl shooting; and being so partial to the water and tender-mouthed, the sportsman may almost always calculate on his bringing to him a wounded bird that may have fallen into the water. He requires little training, from his docile disposition, and even when very young will take great delight in bringing to his master a stick or glove which he has thrown into the water. It is well known that numerous persons have been saved from a

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watery grave by the courage, perseverance, and indefatigable exertions of the Newfoundland dog; and there are several examples of ropes having been conveyed by these dogs from a sinking ship to the shore, by which means the whole crews have been saved from destruction.

What can display more the affection of this dog to his master than the affecting story which I related of the dog living and dying (for I have since heard that the dog is dead) by his master's grave in the churchyard at Stockholm? "In the immediate neighbourhood of Windsor a servant was saved from drowning by a Newfoundland dog, who seized him by the collar of his coat when he was almost exhausted, and brought him to the bank, where some of the family were assembled watching anxiously the exertions of the dog." "Those who were much at Windsor not many years since must have seen a fine Newfoundland dog, called Baby, reposing occasionally in front of the White Hart Hotel. Baby was a general favourite, and he deserved to be so; for he was mild in his disposition, brave as a lion, and very sensible. When he was thirsty and could not procure water at a pump in the yard, he was frequently seen to go to the stable, fetch an empty bucket, and stand with it in his mouth at the pump till some one came for water; he then, by wagging his tail and expressive looks, made his wants known, and had his bucket filled. Exposed as Baby was to the attacks of all sorts of curs as he slumbered in the sun in front of the hotel, he seemed to think a pat with his powerful paw quite sufficient punishment for them; but he never tamely submitted to insult from a dog approaching his own size, and his courage was only equalled by his gentleness." The follow