hunt equally well the cat and fox, pursue the former with a clamourous joy, and kill it with a zest, that they do not display when finishing off a fine run after Reynard. In fact, as an animal of sport, the cat in many respects is preferable to the fox, its trail is always warmer, and it shows more sagacity in eluding its enemies.

In Louisiana, the sportsman starts out in the morning professedly for a fox-chase, and it turns cat, and often both cat and fox are killed, after a short but hard morning's work. The chase is varied, and is often full of amusing incident, for the cat, as might be expected, takes often to the tree to avoid pursuit, and this habit of the animal allows the sportsman to meet it on quite familiar terms; if the tree is a tall one, the excitable creature manages to have its face obscured by the distance, but if it takes to a dead limbless trunk, where the height will permit its head to be fairly seen, as it looks down upon the pack that are yelling at its feet, with such open mouths, that they

Fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth,»

you will see a rare exhibition of rage and fury, eyes that seem living balls of fire, poisonous claws that clutch the insensible wood with deep indentations,-the foam trembles on its jaws, hair standing up like porcupine quills, ears pressed down to the head, forming as perfect a picture of vicious, ungovernable destructiveness as can be imagined. A charge of mustard-seed shot, or a poke with a stick when at bay, will cause it to desert its airy abode, when it no sooner touches the ground, than it breaks off at a killing pace, the pack like mad fiends on its trail.

"

Beside treeing, the cat will take advantage of some hole in the ground, and disappear when it meets with these hidingplaces, as suddenly as ghosts at cock-crowing. The hounds come up to the hiding-place, and a fight ensues. The first head intruded into the cat's hole is sure to meet with a warm reception, claws and teeth do their work, still the staunch hound heeds it not, and either he gets a hold himself, or acts as a bait to draw the cat from his burrow; thus fastened, the

dog, being the most powerful in strength, backs out, dragging his enemy along with him, and no sooner is the cat's head seen by the rest of the pack, than they pounce upon him, and in a few moments the «nine lives » of the « varmint »' are literally chawed up. At one of these burrowings, a huge cat intruded into a hole so small, that an ordinarily large hound could not follow. A little stunted but excellent hound, rejoicing in the name of Ringwood, from his diminutiveness succeeded in forcing his way into the hole after the cat, in an instant a faint scream was heard, and the little fellow showed

symptoms of having caught a tartar. One of the party present, stooped down, and running his arm under the dog's body, pressed it forward, until he could feel that the cat had the dog firmly clawed by each shoulder, with its nose in the cat's mouth; in this situation, by pressing the dog firmly under the chest, the two were drawn from the hole. The cat hung on until he discovered that his victim was surrounded by numerous friends, when he let go his cruel hold, the more vigorously to defend himself. Ringwood, though covered with jetting blood, jumped upon the cat and shook away as if unharmed in the contest.

Sportsmen in hunting the cat, provide themselves generally with pistols, not for the purpose of killing the cat, but to annoy it, so that it will desert from the tree, when it has taken to one; sometimes these infantile shooting-irons are left at home, and the cat gets safely lodged out of the reach of sticks, or whatever other missile may be convenient. This is a most provoking affair, dogs and sportsmen lose all patience, and as no expedient suggests itself, the cat escapes for the time. I once knew of a cat thus perched out of reach, that was brought to terms in a very singular manner. The tree on which the animal was lodged being a very high one, secure from interruption it looked down upon its pursuers with the most provoking complacency, every effort to dislodge it had failed, and the hunt was about to be abandoned in despair, when one of the sportsmen discovered a grape-vine that passed directly over the cat's body, and by running his eye along its circumvolutions, traced it down to the ground, a ju

dicious jerk at the vine touched the cat on the rump, this was most unexpected, and it instantly leaped to the ground, from a height of over forty feet, striking on its fore paws, throwing a sort of rough somerset, and then starting off as sound in limb and wind as if had leaped off of a «huckelberry bush.

The hunter of the wild turkey, while calling,» in intimation of the hen, to allure the gobbler within reach of the rifle, will sometimes be annoyed by, the appearance of the wild cat, stealing up to the place from whence the sounds proceed. The greatest caution on such occasions is visible, the cat advancing by the slowest possible movements, stealing along like a serpent. The hunter knows that the intruder has spoiled his turkey sport for the morning, and his only revenge is to wait patiently and give the cat the contents of his gun, then, minus all game, he goes home, anathematizing the whole race of cats, for thus interfering with his sport, and his dinner.

"

Of all the peculiarities of the cat, its untameable and quar- relsome disposition is its most marked characteristic. The western hunter, when he wishes to clap the climax of bragadocio with respect to his own prowess, says, he can whip his own weight in wild cats. » This is saying all that can be said, for it would seem, considering its size, that the cat in a fight can bite fiercer, scratch harder, and live longer, than any other animal whatever. I am a roaring earthquake in a fight, sang out one of the half-horse and half-alligator species of fellows, « a real snorter of the universe, I can strike as hard as fourth-proof lightning, and keep it up, rough and tumble, as long as a wild cat. These high encomiums on the character of the pugnacity of the cat are beyond question. A singed cat, is an excellent proverb illustrating that a person may be smarter than he looks. A singed wild cat, as such an illustration, would be sublime. There is no half way mark, no exception, no occasional moment of good-nature; starvation and a surfeit, blows and kind words, kicks, cuffs, and fresh meat, reach not the sympathies of the wild cat. He has the greediness of the pawn-broker, the ill nature of an old usurer, the meanness of a petty fogging lawyer, the blind rage

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1

of the hog, and the apparent insensibility to pain of the turtle;
like a woman, the wild cat is incomparable with any thing
but itself. In expression of face, the wild cat singularly re-
sembles the rattle-snake. The skulls of these two varmints »
have the same venomous expression, the same demonstration
of fangs, and probably no two creatures living attack each
other with more deadly ferocity and hate. They will stare
at each other with eyes filled with defiance, and burning with
fire;
one hissing and the other snarling, presenting a most
terrible picture of the malevolence of passion. The serpent
in its attitudes is all grace, the cat all activity; the serpent
moves with the quickness of lightning, while making the at-
tack, the cat defends itself with motions equally quick, bound-
ing from side to side, striking with its paws, both are often
victors, for they seldom separate until death blows have been
inflicted on either side. The Indians, who, in their notions
and traditions, are always picturesque and beautiful, imagine
that the rattle snake, to live, must breathe the poisonous air
of the swamps, and the exhalations of decayed animal matter,
while the cat has the attribute of gloating over the meaner
displays of evil passions of a quarrelsome person; or speaking
of a quarrelsome family, they say, the lodge containing them
fattens the wild cat. »

St. Francis Villa, Louisiana, April, 1842.

(SPORTING MAGAZINE.)

THE WAR-SMITH'S SONG.

BY WILLIAM A. SHAND. M. A.

Give out, give out thy streaming folds
Unbosomed to the wind,

Thou raven flag! the foeman's arm
Thy wing shall never bind.

Lord of the deep, swoop onwards still!
Wherever thou hast flown-

The treasures of the land and sea
Were numbered as thine own.

Raise-raise-aloft the Battle-Rune
Jarl Harold sung of yore,
While to the breeze ye give the sail,
And to the wave the oar.

Of other days, when fiery plumes
Were quenched in blood, it tells,
As fiercely from each bearded lip
The raging measure swells-

Of Hours when through the drifting spray
We held our stern career,
And Ocean's stoutest rovers quailed
Before our Sign of fear.

When to the eagle on the deep,
And to the wolf on shore,
With ravening blades for Ella forged
We spread the Feast of Gore.

No heritage the War-Smith owns,
Won by another's hand-

No wealth he bears from other times,
Save shield and battle-brand.
His realm is on the wandering wave
That bears him on its breast-

Like swart sea-hawk upon its ridge
He rears his couch of rest.