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'Tibby Shiels's! Ye's no gang a fit to Tibby's the nicht. I'll warrant it's sixteen miles to Tibby's; and it'll be dark afore ye get frae amang the hills. Na, na; ye maun a' tak a bed at Juniper Bank. What wad the guidwife say if she kenned ye gaed past the door?' 'But look at all these ladies!'

'Houts, never mind; we've plenty up-pittin' for the hale o' ye. And the leddies, I'm thinkin', will be the maist welcome. Weel, what a strange thing to meet you here!'

Who could resist such persuasives? The preliminaries were speedily settled. We sorned during the night at our friend's house. I think we got to bed some

where about twelve o'clock, after a tremendous amount of talking-the ladies entertaining the guidwife with town news, and the guidman, whose farm was half pastoral, giving me such an insight into the subject of sheep, lambs, dinmonts, wethers, hirsels, wool, shepherds, and collies, that I almost felt inclined to pitch pen and paper to the dogs, and take up the trade of

store farmer.

The sheep-farming of the south of Scotland-to give form to our gossip on the subject-is a peculiar sort of thing, and is carried on over an extensive region, by rather a peculiar sort of people. If anybody has a notion of buying land, I should by all means recommend him to get hold of a cluster of Scotch hills. There they are the same yesterday, to-day, and forever; needing no enclosing, fencing, building, draining, or any other processes which pick the pockets of ordinary landed proprietors. Snow, rain, and sunshine are their sole appliances, and these nature bounteously imparts. Nor have the tenant farmers any heavy responsibilities. A considerable number of the farms are conducted entirely by resident shepherds, the master possibly living fifty miles off, and only requiring to visit his flocks at distant periods. But whether near or far away, the farmer resigns pretty nearly the whole management to his shepherds. Theoretically, these auxiliaries are in the capacity of hired servants; but practically, they are a species of subordinate partners in the concern; and left so much to themselves, this becomes an indispensable arrangement. The Scotch shepherd is an educated, religious, and highly trustworthy being. Living with his wife in a small thatched house in a remote glen, and his occupation being more of the character of watching than working, he has a large share of time on his hands, becomes a diligent reader, and as for power of argument on kittle points of theology, is a fair match for a bishop. The disposition to argle-bargle on religious topics is no doubt an unpleasant feature in the Scotch character; yet, after all, as everybody must have his weaknesses, I should incline to prefer a peasant metaphysician to a peasant nothing-at-all- -a shepherd whose mind keeps criticising all the week long on last Sunday's sermon, to a labourer in a smock who keeps thinking only of bacon or beer. Talking of this, I am reminded of an anecdote of a Scotch shepherd, which gives one an idea of the character. A minister engaged in making a periodical visitation to the houses of his parishioners, was addressed by a venerable worthy-Noo, sir, since ye've speered sae mony questions at me, will ye allow me to speer ane at you?' By all means, John; go on.' Weel, then, will ye tell me whether it's a greater sin to steal at mid-day or at midnight?' 'How can you ask so silly a question, John?' replied the minister. I shall give you no answer to it.' In the course of years, the minister was summoned to attend John on his deathbed. The veteran of the hills was at the last gasp; but something seemed to lie on his mind. If there be anything troubling your conscience, John, I hope you'll tell me what it is,' said the minister. I have naething particular, sir, except yon question you never answered.' 'What question?' The question

as to whether it's a greater sin to steal at noonday than in the dead o' night.' 'I cannot imagine,' answered the clergyman, why you should consider there is any difference in the sin, at whatever hour it be committed.' Ah, sir, I have ye noo,' replied the dying rustic with a gleam of satisfaction. Ye're clearly in the wrang; for he that steals at mid-day has only ae sin to answer for; but he that steals when it's dark thinks to cheat God, and that makes the theft a double sin!' With this delightful victory over the minister, John died in peace.

Besides their love of polemics, the southland shepherds are great politicians, and take a considerable inteby which they carry on their literary correspondence rest in the moving events of the day. The expedient is curious. There being few houses in the compass of their extensive walks, they have certain well-known appointed places among the hills where newspapers and letters may be deposited. By this means a newspaper or magazine will be handed on from hand to hand, and read over a district of fifty miles. These post-offices, as they may be called, are usually the dry cleft of a rock, or a recess within a particular whin bush, not likely to be stumbled on by strangers. Hogg, who spent his early years as a shepherd, has pictured many traits of this class of men-their meetings at night to discuss social and ethical questions, their endurance of fatigue during snow-storms, and their generally primitive way of living. I think, however, that he has not recorded the manner in which they frequently rise in their profession. What a shepherd realises, put it altogether, may not be worth more than fifty pounds a year; yet look how he manages. A free cot-house; three loads of meal per annum; the grass of a cow; peat fuel free, if there be any, and the driving of coal, if there be none; and the keep of ordinarily forty-five sheep-a pig also, kept by the guidwife—are about the whole of it. In the country, however, there seems to be a blessing in the manner of living. Wants are limited, luxuries are scarcely thought of, and therefore little money is required to be given out. Nine sheep are sold every year, as they come to perfection; and as many lambs are left to make up the deficiency. The sale of these sheep, also of a certain number of lambs, and likewise of a quantity of wool, forms the cash-bringing-in principle. What is there to pay for but schooling to the bairns?'-a thing never omitted-and occasionally a new gown or coat; the bulk of the garments being of homespun material. Economy!-how badly the world would get on without thee! What a useless animal the man who habitually spends all he makes, in comparison with him who keeps adding to the capital of society! Shepherds occasionally rise to be farmers; and when such is the case, they usually help each other. Half-a-dozen acquaintances will lend their whole savings to a neighbour, on the occasion of his taking a small farm; and how creditable to have to tell that these loans are usually given without any kind of written acknowledgment.

The possession of a stock of sheep is indispensable to a shepherd seeking employment; and whatever be the number he possesses, it is a necessary arrangement that a portion of them shall mingle with each flock under his charge, by which means he is furnished with the strongest inducement to take care of the whole of the sheep on the farm. Sheep are sold in detachments at fairs and trysts, and always according to quality. A good is not mixed with a bad lot. As the shepherd's sheep are sold along with those of the farmer, and are afterwards accounted for, the shepherd has here another strong inducement to be careful; because the more sheep of his own which can be draughted into the good lots, the more money he receives. On this account he is as anxious as his master to improve the general breed on the farm, and to secure the flocks against injury or deterioration. I was curious to know how a shepherd is able to realise a stock at his outset in life. He commences while a boy. Employed first as a humble

assistant on a farm, his master, by way of rewarding his diligence, will probably give him a ewe lamb; and failing this present, he receives a lamb from his father. This lamb is his first venture. It feeds with his master's flocks, and its increase in due season is his property. In a few years, by means of this increase, and also by a rigid economy in wages, which enables him to buy a few sheep, he gradually attains a full stock, and then payment to him in money ceases. Now the owner of forty-five sheep, each with a distinctive mark as his property, he feels all the satisfaction and importance of having an investment liable to increase, and which care and perseverance may improve. When he leaves his place, he does not take his sheep with him. His master or his successor must buy his stock of animals, and let them remain, because sheep have curious ways about them, and don't like removals. Day by day, for a series of years, flocks range in the same unvarying circle; always coming round by the sweet low-lying pastures at noon, and nibbling their way to the higher grounds at night. With respect to the social character of sheep, a stranger looking at a hill-side might suppose that, dotted like white specks over it, the sheep had no connection with each other. Quite a mistake. They form distinct societies among themselves; and those which constitute one group of acquaintances never willingly mingle with another.

Within the last forty years a great change has taken place in the breeds of sheep pasturing in these regions. Formerly, the small or black-faced animal was universal; but now, for the sake of finer and longer wool, the Cheviot, Leicester, and other white-faced varieties are more common. The old Scotch sheep may be said to have been better adapted for a hilly country than the heavy and refined creatures of modern days. He was a capital climber, could loup a dike' like a hunter at a steeple-chase, and, according to my friend's account, he possessed a particularly happy knack of eating whins -prickly furze-without jagging his mouth.' This latter point of character, from long habit, was apparently engrafted on the instincts of the animal; for a young black-faced lamb, without instruction, would take quite naturally to the nibbling of whins, and do the thing so discreetly, that it escaped any sort of injury. With such chat the night was pleasantly spent; and even in the morning before starting I was able to squeeze out an additional budget of pastoral statistics. However, the time approaches for parting; and with many kindly adieus, we are on our way for Yarrow.

The road we took was by Traquair, the ancient seat of an earl of that title, with a scattered village adjoining. Up the valley of the Quair, a small tributary of the Tweed, our calash proceeded at a fair pace, passing on our right the scene of the old lyric, the Bush aboon Traquair,' till we got immersed among the hills, and nothing met the eye but bare round-topped mountains, wild and solitary. Up and up we went, till, reaching the height of the country, we descended by a southern slope to the vale of the Yarrow.

Suddenly the Yarrow, a silvery streamlet, is seen winding down the hollow. We can at first scarcely understand how a thing so small, and with so little of the garniture of nature around, can have excited such a variety of poetical emotions. Yet no river in Scotland, not even the Tweed, has been the theme of so many successive poems-generally, however, of a doleful or pensive kind, referring to acts of strife, or appropriate to

The grace of forest charms decayed,

And pastoral melancholy.'
First we have the old ballad describing an unfortunate
brawl on the banks of the Yarrow between Scott of
Tushielaw and his brother-in-law one of the Scotts of
Thirlstane, in which the latter is slain.

"Oh stay at hame, my noble lord!
Oh stay at hane my marrow!
My cruel brother will you betray,
On the dowie howms o' Yarrow.'

How far the rhyme of marrow and Yarrow' may have induced poets to make the vale of Yarrow the scene of their ballads may be left to conjecture. Marrow' is a good Scotch word, signifying a match-any two things not properly paired being said to be 'not marrows;" and it would seem that this was too excellent an idea in connection with Yarrow to escape poetic seizure. Thanks to this, perhaps, and also to the old ballad Hamilton of Bangour has bequeathed the fine effusion beginning,

'Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow;
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie bride,

And think nae mair o' the braes o' Yarrow.'

Other ballads involve in their respective imagery the
howms or holms of Yarrow, with the adjoining scenery,
in which some of the old Border castles still figure.
Finally, in consequence of these poems, old and new,
Mr Wordsworth contracted a veneration for the vale-
a feeling so high, that he refused in 1803, during a tour!
in Scotland, to enter Yarrow, lest the sight of it should
dispel the agreeable vision cherished by fancy. He con-
sequently wrote his fine poem of Yarrow Unvisited.
In 1814, making another tour in Scotland, he ventured
into this fairyland of poetic fiction, and commemorated
the result of the experiment in the kindred poem of
'Yarrow Visited,' commencing with the well-known
lines-

'And is this-Yarrow? This the stream
Of which my fancy cherished
So faithfully a waking dream?
An image that hath perished!

Oh that some minstrel's harp were near
To utter notes of gladness,

And chase this silence from the air,

That fills my heart with sadness!' Entering Yarrow by the route from Traquair, we have immediately before us the farm of Mount Benger, of which Hogg was some time tenant; and beyond, on the opposite side of the vale, Altrive Lake, a house of respectable appearance, in which the poor shepherd termi nated his earthly career. By an opening among the hills in this direction, a road proceeds to Ettrick, a kindred valley on the south. In turning to the right up the Yarrow, we have an almost immediate view of the chief beauty of the district-St Mary's Loch, a fine sheet of water several miles in length, fringed with a white pebbly beach. Passing the old tower of Dryhope, once the residence of the beautiful Mary Scott, the Flower of Yarrow, and the poetically as well as religiously-consecrated burying-ground of St Mary's Kirk, the drive is delightful, particularly if the day be warm and sunny, as it was on the present occasion. We are now in the bosom of the Vale of Yarrow; and bound for the general centre of attraction at Tibby Shiels's, we pass the opening into Meggetdale, also possessing scenes celebrated in tradition and Border minstrelsy.

Pity we have no time to go up the Megget; but it is approaching noon, and Tibby's cozy hostelry is now in sight, nestling among a few trees at the head of the lake. We must get on our way, for we have much work before us; and that vulgar affair, dinner, even in a land of poetry, must be thought of. Behold us, then, driving up to Tibby's. Erected on a slip of meadow land, with a small garden around, her little domicile may be considered quite an oasis in the desert; nor could it have been placed with better effect. To the east stretches St Mary's Loch, while a similar sheet of water, the Loch of the Lowes, bounds it on the west. Not properly speaking a public,' for Tibby would not expose herself to promiscuous intrusion by taking out the license,' the establishment-a neat slated house, with a surprising amount of stowage-answers all the purposes of a wayside inn; and nowhere will the angle: or knapsacked tourist find such a place of comfortable

repose.

*Busk ye dress or adorn yourself.

'Well, Tibby, ye'll not recollect me?'

Aih, I do that,' replied the worthy dame, in the mellifluous dialect of the Forest, as she bustles forward. 'I mind o' you real weel; and I am sae glad to see you. Will ye a' come in by?'

ruined abbeys of Melrose and Dryburgh, in the last of which lie the remains of Scott-and finally Kelso; the whole a chain of spots over a tract of twenty miles, in one of the loveliest districts in Scotland. But all this has been again and again described, and from me reNot at present, Tibby; we are going to the Gray-quires no repetition; so-to draw a long story to a Mare's Tail; and you will be so kind as prepare dinner close-here ends A DAY IN Yarrow. W. C. for us before we come back.' 'I'll do that.'

THE JAGUAR HUNTER. And so, with this arrangement, off we went on a walking excursion to see one of the greatest natural THE pioneer settlers in the southern states of America curiosities of the south of Scotland. The Gray-Mare's are often exposed to danger from the attacks of wild Tail, be it known to those who never heard of the thing animals. This is more particularly the case in approachbefore, is a streamlet from Loch Skene, a solitary sheet ing the tropical regions. The squatters of Texas relate of water, among the higher mountains, which dashes many fearful tales of conflicts with panthers and wolves. down a rocky and precipitous ravine, and forms a water- In the states of the Mexican union, however, the ferofall of some two hundred feet. Pursuing the Vale of cious jaguar, or South American tiger, is met with, Yarrow to its extremity on the west, we descend into which commits fearful ravages among the numerous the Vale of Moffat Water, down which, at the distance herds of cattle and horses, from the breeding and sale of a mile, we come upon the cataract. Rain had fortu- of which many large proprietors derive a princely innately been falling among the hills, and the Tail was in come. I was once staying for a few weeks at one of prime order—a grand stream of foam and spray leaping these estates, where a jaguar had for some time kept from point to point in snowy masses, till it was lost in the whole establishment in alarm, and escaped all atthe gurgling abyss beneath. Loch Skene, whence the tempts made for its destruction. At last, on the return rivulet proceeds, is reckoned to be one of the gloomiest of a hunter, who had been absent on a distant expedimountain tarns in Scotland. I had visited it the pre- tion, all apprehension as to further annoyance ceased; vious summer, and will ever retain a forcible recollec- for such were the courage and skill of the new-comer in tion of its appearance · silent, dark, and desolate. attacking these animals, as to have gained for him the Difficult of access, and surrounded by savage mosses name of Bermudes el Matasiete, or 'Killer-of-Seven.' On and hills, it was in its lonely sublimity a thing to be the night following his arrival, he invited me to join associated in the imagination with the fabled and inap-him in watching for the intruder, and appointed the proachable Waters of Oblivion.'

Back to Tibby's at four. The fowls and gigot excellent; but a greater treat was a renewed chat with the good-natured hostess.

'Tibby, ye'll often be rather lonely here, I suppose?' 'Ay, we are that. Sometimes in winter we dinna see a livin' cratur for three months. But we maunna compleen. There's generally plenty visitors at this time o' the year.'

'I've heard that you have sometimes as many as five-and-thirty in a night.'

'That's only about the twalt o' August, when the shooters come up amang the hills.'

'But you have not beds for so large a number?' That's true; but after a' the beds are filled, they just lie on the floor, or onygate. We do what we can to mak' them comfortable.'

And you have been here many years? It will now be a considerable time since your husband died?'

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And you always prefer keeping your own name?' Ou ay; folk a ken me best as Tibby Shiels; and I daresay, when I'm dead and gane, this place here will still be ca'ed Tibby Shiels's.'

'I understand there's been a grand wedding over at Lord Napier's.'

'A grand waddin', indeed; there hasna been the like o't in Ettrick for a hunder years I daresay.'

And so we had Tibby's account of this great local event, with a lot of gossip besides, until it was time to depart. We did not bid good-by without regret at the necessary shortness of our visit; and I feel bound to add, for the general enlightenment of mankind, that if anybody does not know what to do with himself, and can put up with the fare of the hills, and wishes to get out of the reach of post-offices and other sources of harassment, he should go and rusticate at Tibby Shiels's. Our drive down Yarrow was accelerated by the approach of nightfall; but a sufficiency of light remained, as we issued from the hills at Selkirk, to show that the scenery had changed its character, and that we were again entering on the soft landscapes of the Tweed. Next day was devoted to a series of visits to places abounding in interest and beauty: Abbotsford-the

rendezvous at the Ojo de Agua, a fountain at the foot of a slope stretching gradually away till it met the forest.

Soon after sunset I strolled towards the place agreed on. A tall cedar stood near the fountain, its lower branches dipping into the water as it bubbled away to the bottom of the valley. Behind the cedar rose the knotty trunks of a group of mahogany-trees, interspersed with flowery sumachs. On the opposite side, a little glade was formed by a cluster of ash-trees, at the entrance of which I found the hunter lying at his ease upon the grass, enjoying the coolness after the extreme heat of the day, with his blue-barrelled rifle at his side. I congratulated him on the choice of so picturesque a site for the rendezvous. I am delighted,' he replied with a smile, the whole meaning of which I did not at first comprehend, that the place is to your taste, but you will see before long that it is better chosen than you think.'

I was

We had not long been seated when a second hunter appeared, a tall Canadian, his rifle in one hand, and leading a lame colt by the other. After exchanging a few words with Bermudes, he tied the limping animal to the stem of the cedar by a long and strong cord, and then came to sit down by our side on the moss. at a loss to understand the object of these preparations, and of the fires which had been kindled in various directions. On questioning the Mexican, he rose, and conducting me to the edge of the fountain, showed me several formidable footprints in the damp soil. marks,' he continued, were made yesterday-of that I am certain. The jaguar, therefore, has not drunk for twenty-four hours, and for twenty leagues round there is not a drop of water but what is here on the estate. The fires yonder will scare the animal in that quarter; while thirst and the scent of the colt will certainly bring him here in the course of this night.'

Those

The logic of this reasoning appeared to me irresistible; and I found myself, quite unarmed, suddenly transformed into a tiger hunter. At first I thought my best course would be to make a quiet retreat; a mixture of curiosity and self-esteem, however, induced me to stay. The Canadian was stretched at full length on the bank, snoring loudly. Bermudes beckoned me to sit down by his side, and to pass away the time, gave me an account of his numerous adventures. As we had yet four hours to wait before the animal could be expected to make his appearance, I sat patiently listen

ing, while the hunter went on with his tale. For an hour no other sound save that of his voice and the loud breathing of the sleeper disturbed the silence. All at once the colt started and reared in alarm, and the dry bushes crackled with so dismal a sound, that I could not repress a shudder. Did you not hear a howl?' I inquired of Bermudes, who shook his head and laughed as he answered, When you have once, only once, heard a tiger's roar, you will never again be likely to mistake for it the humming of mosquitos. In a few hours you will be as well instructed on this point as I am.'

It was a false alarm: all became quiet as before, while the hunter continued the history of his exploits. But a second interruption followed; the colt began to utter a cry between a shriek and a moan. Is it mosquitos this time,' I asked, that so terrifies the poor animal?'

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'It is the jaguar,' said the hunter after a pause. At present he is playing the brave, but his hour is not yet come; and for the moment he is more afraid than you are. Do not think, however,' he pursued, that tigershooting has no dangers. You will be able to judge how much another hour without drinking will have exasperated the animal. I have seen many a brave man turn pale at their frightful roar.'

Having expressed my uneasiness at being unarmed, my companion promised to furnish me with a weapon when the fitting moment should arrive, and resumed his recital where he had left off. But as the night grew darker, the interruptions became more frequent, and by and by a distant growl was heard, followed by a plaintive and menacing howl. I was mistaken,' said the hunter, coming to a pause; instead of one tiger there are two. Males never attack in company; and should it be male and female, we shall have a double warning, for Providence, which has given a rattle to the most dangerous of serpents to announce its approach, has also given to wild animals eyes that glisten in the night, and roaring voices to proclaim their attack.'

This assertion was far from agreeable, but the danger was still distant; the moment had not yet come when thirst makes these animals forget the involuntary dread which they have of the presence of man. All was again quiet in the woods, whose gloomy depths were thrown into shadow by the moonlight. The Canadian had risen from the grass, and leaned drowsily against the tree, smoking a short pipe, with his rifle between his knees. I had learned enough of the course of the stars to know that the hour was at hand for which we had so long been watching. Bermudes again spoke :-'It is time now to think of you,' he said. 'Do you not perceive that the silence becomes more and more profound around us, and that the odour of the plants has almost changed? Under the influence of the night they exhale a new perfume. When you have lived longer in the desert, you will learn that each hour of the day, as well as of the night, has its peculiar signification. At each hour, as one voice becomes silent, another makes itself heard. At present ferocious beasts salute the darkness, as to-morrow the birds will salute the dawn. We are near the hour when man loses the imposing influence of his look-at night his eye becomes dim, while that of wild animals brightens and pierces the deepest gloom : man is the king of day, but the jaguar is king of dark

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Bermudes proceeded to explain that, on such an occasion, a rifle could be intrusted to those only who were sure of their aim. You will roll these skins round your left arm,' he continued, and take the knife in your right hand; then you put your right knee to the ground, and rest your protected arm upon the left knee. In this manner the arm defends your head and body, while your stomach will be shielded by the knee; for tigers have an ugly habit of trying to disembowel their enemy with a stroke of their paw. If you are attacked, you present your arm, and while the animal's tusks are buried in the wool, you rip him up from flank to shoulder with one plunge of the knife.'

All that appears to me incontestable,' was my answer; but I would rather hope that two hunters such as you will not miss your tiger. For my part, I shall hunt, as you call it, with my hands in my pockets; that will be more original.'

Failing the armour of sheepskins, the hunter urged me to take the knife, which I accepted. The two associates then primed their rifles, and we waited without exchanging a word. The lower part of the forest was now in profound darkness, while the little space around the fountain was brilliantly illuminated. We were sheltered by the drooping branches of a large mangrove, forming a kind of natural arch. Twenty paces in front reclined the colt, whose instinct was to be the hunters' guide. Presently I saw the animal raise its head with evident signs of uneasiness, which were soon after succeeded by broken cries of terror, and efforts to escape from its fastenings. These attempts being use less, it remained trembling in every limb: a breath of terror seemed to pervade the atmosphere. All at once a cavernous roar from the neighbouring heights pealed in echoes through the woods; the colt hid its head in the grass. A deep silence followed: the two hunters crept from the shelter, and I heard the double click as they cocked their rifles.

An instant after, a terrible roar again burst upon our ears a form of light colour darted through the air upon the colt, which had crouched down in terror: there was a noise of crashing bones, followed instantaneously by the report of Bermudes's rifle.

'Your knife!' he cried to his companion, who was preparing to fire. Look up; that is for you!'

I turned my eyes in the direction indicated by Ma tasiete, as he took the Canadian's knife. High up among the branches of the cedar I saw two large eyeballs shining like burning coals, watching all our movements: it was the second jaguar, whose tail was lashing the foliage, and beating off the dried moss from the branches in showers. The Canadian stood motionless, with his eye fixed upon the two fierce-gleaming lights in the tree. Meantime the wounded jaguar sprang at one leap close to Bermudes, where the moonlight showed the furious animal. The blood was streaming from one of his legs, shattered by the ball. Collecting himself for a last rush, the animal lowered his head, beat the air, and howled in fury; his blazing eyes seemed to expand to twice their ordinary size. Bermudes stood, self-possessed, on the defensive, holding his knife forwards. At length the tiger leaped; but his muscles were weakened by the wound, and the hunter, stepping aside, buried his knife in the monster's heart as he fell: there was a terrible yell-a struggle of agony-and then all was over.

Whether or no,' exclaimed the brave Matasiete, 'there is a skin badly torn, to say nothing of my own, at the same time showing his arm lacerated by a long gash. He had scarcely finished, when a second roar was heard in the direction of the cedar: it was answered by the report of a rifle a noise of rending branches,| followed by a heavy fall, announced the skill of a practised marksman. The Canadian had aimed between the glowing eyes. When the two hunters, going round to the other side of the spring, had found the body, their shouts of triumph gave me to understand that the Canadian's accurate eye had not been deceived.

It was not without a feeling of compassion that I approached another victim of the slayers and slain-the dead colt. The poor animal lay stretched upon the grass; a bleeding wound at the back of the head, and another on its nose, showed where the tiger's claws had fallen; the complete fracture of the vertebræ of the neck proved death to have been instantaneous. Already cold and rigid, the first jaguar lay near: I measured it with my eye, but at a distance, when the two others arrived dragging the female, whose skull had been shattered by the ball: this time, at least, the skin was unbroken.

Bermudes complimented me on my courage, in what he persisted in calling tiger-hunting. I, however, disclaimed anything like bravery. The hunters seemed disposed to pass the night near the booty which they had so well earned; and preferring the open air to my close chamber, I agreed to keep them company if they would light a fire. My wish was soon gratified; we stretched ourselves on the moss near the blazing wood, and before many minutes had elapsed, were sound asleep.

On awaking the next morning, I found the two companions with their shirt sleeves tucked up to the elbow, and stained arms, busily engaged in flaying the two jaguars. When they had completed their task, which was performed with the dexterity acquired by long practice in similar operations, they threw the skins over their shoulders, and we all took the way to our original quarters, where our arrival was hailed with prolonged congratulations. Bermudes and his comrade received the usual reward of ten dollars for each skin; and the 'Killer-of-Seven' would now have to add another number to his surname.

COMMODORE THUROT.

In the year 1727, at Christmas, a man named Thurot came to one of the churches in Boulogne with an infant to be baptised. It was then customary for ladies of rank to attend churches at Christmas time, in order to stand as sponsors for infants belonging to the humbler classes. One named Madame Tallard came forward to offer herself as sponsor for Thurot's child. The ceremony was proceeding, when Madame Tallard was surprised to observe tears streaming from the eyes of the father. She inquired the reason, and learned that his wife, the mother of the infant, was just then receiving the last rites of sepulture in the churchyard. Touched by the incident, the kind-hearted lady did not leave the church without making the poor man a present, and requesting that, if the child should live till she returned to Boulogne, he might be sent to see her.

Thurot, though now in comparatively humble life, was the son of parents who had moved in a superior rank. His father was a gentleman named Farrell, who had been a captain in the army of James II. in Ireland, and following the fortunes of that monarch, had become a member of his household at St Germains. There a gentlewoman of good connexions condescended, poor as he was, to marry him. The displeasure of relations, the loss of employment and means of subsistence, followed. The husband came to an early grave, and the lady survived him but a few months, having first, however, given birth to an infant, who was taken charge of by her relations, and brought up under his maternal name. This was the father of the infant of whose history we are now to give some particulars.

Young Thurot grew up under the care of his father at Boulogne. Madame Tallard continued to have a regard for the child, and permitted him to be the occasional playfellow of her own son. When he was fifteen years of age, one Farrell, the captain of a smuggling vessel, became acquainted with his father, and claimed relationship with him. This man told Monsieur Thurot that the O'Farrells were a flourishing family in Connaught he himself was a prosperous gentleman, and he offered to take charge of the boy, and make his for

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tune. Thurot having agreed to this proposal, the youth was fitted out at the expense of his Irish cousin, and sailed with him for Limerick.

Touching at the Isle of Man, then the grand entrepôt of the contraband trade, young Thurot became disgusted with the conduct of his relative, and declined to proceed further in his company. While waiting for a vessel in which he might return to Boulogne, his handsome and sprightly appearance attracted the attention of a gentleman of the island of Anglesey, who had come to Man upon some smuggling business, being extensively engaged in that traffic. With little persuasion, the young man entered his service. He was soon initiated into the mysteries of the smuggling trade, and repeatedly visited Ireland on business intrusted to him by his master. One whole year of this early period of his life was spent on smuggling duty at Carlingford, where he acquired a knowledge of the English language. At length, tiring of this way of life, and anxious to learn something of his Irish relations, he set off for Dublin with only a few shillings in his pocket. The adventure ended in his being glad to engage himself as a nobleman's valet, in which capacity he served for nearly two years, when some irregularities in his own conduct led to his being discharged. He then went to the north of Ireland, and re-engaged in the contraband trade, for which his active enterprising genius was peculiarly fitted. It must be said in his favour, that, while his irregular education had furnished him with no protection against this demoralising career, which was then followed by thousands of apparently respectable persons, he conducted himself throughout all its rough scenes with a degree of both honour and generosity hardly to have been expected, and which could only be owing to his own natural good qualities.

War breaking out between Britain and France, it would appear that Thurot engaged in a privateer of his own country, and in this capacity became a prisoner of war in England. It was in the year 1745, when Marshal Belleisle was about to be discharged from captivity in our country, that Thurot effected his escape under extraordinary circumstances. Having left his prison, he concealed himself in the country by day, and came to a port on the southern coast at night. Here his object was to lay hold of some little unoccupied vessel in which to sail for France. Swimming about the harbour with great precautions against being observed, he came at length to a small smuggling bark, which he thought well fitted for his purpose. It lay, however, beside a larger vessel, to which it was attached, and it had no sails. The danger was, of course, that some person in the larger vessel would detect him before he could get it set adrift. Nevertheless this bold adventurer actually climbed the shrouds of the larger vessel to possess himself of a sail; returned with his prize, set free the little bark, and got clear off without detection. In two days, half famished, yet in the highest spirits, he entered the port of Calais. This strange adventure made him an object of public curiosity; nevertheless, the bark which he thought he had made his own was appropriated for the government. Thurot was reduced to despair. It chanced, however, that the lady of the Marshal Belleisle had come to Calais to meet her husband, then about to be set at liberty in England. Thurot was introduced to her to tell his own tale. At her intercession the marshal took up his case, and in the long-run Thurot obtained possession of the vessel, together with the friendship of that eminent commander. It is alleged that this was the first step of advancement made in the world by one who was subsequently to become a figure in history.*

In the course of his subsequent smuggling career He sailed as master of the Thurot visited Scotland. Annie of Leith, in one voyage from Leith to London.

* This anecdote appears in a rare book, entitled 'A Series of Letters, Discovering the Scheme Projected by France in 1759, &c.

By Oliver Macallester, Esq. 2 vols. 4to. 1767. We cannot say much for the authority, but the story may nevertheless be true.

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