near perfection, to render hunting more delightful and sprightly, to ennoble this most beneficial and respectable of all exercises, it has been formed into an art.

“The chase of the stag requires a species of knowledge which can only be learned by experience: it implies a royal assemblage of men, horses, and dogs, all so trained, practised, and disciplined, that their movements, their researches, and their skill, must concur in producing one common end. The huntsman should know the age and sex of the animal ; he should be able to distinguish with precision whether the stag he has harboured be a knobber, a young stag, in his sixtir or seventh year, or an old stay. The chief marks which convey this intelligenco aro derived from the foot and the feument. The foot of the stag is better formed than that of the hind, or female. Her leg is more gross, and nearer the heel. The impressions of his feet are rounder, and farther removed from each other ; he moves niore regularly, and brings the hind foot into the impression made by the fore foot. But the distance between the steps of the hind are shorter, and her hind feet strike not so regularly the track of the fore feet. As soon as the stag acquires his fourth horns he is easily distinguished ; but to know the foot of a young stag from the hind, requires repeated experience. Stags of six, seven, &o., years, are still more easily known, for their fore foot is much larger than the hind foot; the older they are, the sides of their feet are the more worn ; the distance of their steps is more regular than those of young stags ; they always place their hind foot exactly in the track of the fore foot, except when they shed their horns ; the old stags misplace at this season, nearly as often as the young ones ; but in this they are more regular than the hind or young stag, placing the hind foot always at the side of the fore foot, and never beyond or within it.

" When the huntsman, from the dryness of the season, or other circumstances, cannot judge by the foot, he is obliged to trace the animal backwards, and endeavour to find his dung. This mark requires, per. haps, greater experience than the knowledge of the foot ; but, without it, the huntsman would be unable to give a proper report to the company. After the report of the huntsman, and the dogs are led to the refuge of the stag, he ought to encourage his hound, and make him rest upon the track of the stag till the animal be unharboured.

“Instantly the alarm is given to uncouple the dogs, which ought to be enlivened by the voice and horn of the huntsman. He should also diligently observe the foot of the stag, in order to discover whether the animal has started, and substituted another in his place. But it is then the buciness of the hunters to separate also, and to recall the dogs which have gone astray after false game. The huntsman should always accompany his dogs, and encourage without pressing them too hard ; he should assist them in detecting all the arts of escape used by the stag, for this animal has remarkable address in deceiving tho dogs. With this view he often returns twice or thrice upon his former steps; he endeavours to raise hinds or younger stags to accompany him, and draw off the dogs from the object of their pursuit ; he then flies with redou. bled speed, or springs off at a side, lies down on his belly, and conceals

* To misplace, is to put the hind foot out of the track of the fore foot.

himself. In this case, when the dogs have lost his foot, the huntsman, by going backwards and forwards, assists them in recovering it: but if they cannot find it, they suppose that he is resting within the circuit they have made, and go in quest of him. But, if they are still unable to discover him, there is no other method left, but, from viewing the country, to conjecture where he may have taken refuge, and repair to the place. As soon as they have recovered his foot, and put the dogs upon the track, they pursue with more advantage, because they perceive that the stag is fatigued ; their ardour augments in proportion to his feebleness, and their scent becomes more distinct as the animal grows warm. Hence they redouble their cry and their speed ; and, though the stag practises still more arts of escape than formerly, as his swiftness is diminished, his arts and doublings become gradually less effectual. He has now no other resource but to fly from the earth which he treads, and get into the waters (which is technically called “going to soil'), in order to cut off the scent from the dogs on the track of his foot. The stag, after taking to the water, is incapable of running far, and is soon at bay; but he still attempts to defend his life, and often wounds the dogs, and even the huntsmen when too forward, by blows with his horns, till one of them cuts his hams to make him fall, and then puts an end to his life by a blow of a hanger. They now celebrate the death of the stag by a flourish of their horns,—the dogs are allowed to trample upon liim--and at last partake richly of the victory by devouring his flesh.”

Having thus sounded the “mort,” or death knell of the “ broken” deer, some explanation of the technicalities here employed may perchance, to the uninitiated, not prove wholly unacceptable, to enable him to understand the “ pith and marrow" of the tale.

To “Harbour” a stag is to go round the covert or place of refuge in which he is supposed to lie concealed, to ascertain whether he has previously left it or not. This is done by tracking his foot, or “slot,” the impression made by his hoof on the ground, and by which an experienced forester can tell the age and sex, -as can likewise in some cases be ascertained by the “ fiant,” “ faunts,” or “ feument,” which corresponds to the billet” of the fox. When roused from his lair by the hounds, the stag is said to be “ unharboured.” What is called the " leg” are the two horny excrescences above the fetlock-joint, which always leave an impression on soft ground. A “knobber” is the term used for a stag after his first year, (previous to which he is called a “ calf,”) till his third year ; he is then called a “ young” stag, and does not assume. the name of stag till his fifth year, when, as Manwood ayers, he takes the title of “ hart.”

“Besides this title,” says Gilpin, “ he may still attain two higher degrees of honour,—those of a hart-royal, and of a hart-royal proclaimed.

“If he be hunted by the King, and escape, or have his life given him for the sport he has afforded, he becomes from thenceforward a hart-royal. If he be hunted out of the forest, and then escape, the King hath sometimes honoured him with a royal proclamation, the purport of which is to forbid any one to molest him, that he may have free liberty

of returning to his forest : from that time he becomes a hart- royal proclaimed.”

This referred, in Gilpin's time, to the New Forest deer.

In Thomson's Seasons will be found the following graphic description of a stag hunt:

“ The stag too, singled from the herd, where long
He rang'd, the branching monarch of the shades,
Before the tempest drives. At first, in speed
He, sprightly, puts his faith ; and, ruus'd by fear,
Gives all his swift aërial soul to flight.
Against the breeze he darts, that way the more,
To leave the lessening murderous cry behind.
Deception short! Though feeter than the winds
Blown o'er the keen-air'd mountain by the north,
He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades,
And plunges deep into the wildest wood;
If slow, yet sure, adhesive to the track,
Hot-steaming, up behind him come again
Th' inhuman ront, and from the shady depth
Expel him, circling thro' his every shift.
He sweeps the forest oft, and sobbing sces
The glades, mild opening to the golden day;
Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends
He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy.
Oft in the full-descending flood he tries
To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides ;
Oft seeks the herd; the watchful herd, alarni'd,
With selfish care avoid a brother's woe.
What shall he do? His once so vivid nerves,
So full of buoyant spirit, now no more
Inspire the course; but fainting breathless toil,
Sick, seizes on his heart: he stands at bay,
And puts his last weak refuge in despair.
The big round tears run down his dappled face;
lle groans in anguish ; while the growling pack,
Blood-happy, hang at bis fair jutting chest,

And mark his beauteous chequer'd sides with gorc." The above quotation—which I hope will be deemed appropriate-shall conclude this very imperfect sketch of what may be said to be the “ ruins” of the time-honoured and noble woodcraft art of hunting the royal stag, in his wild unfettered state ; and I cannot here refrain from expressing the hope—spite of the sword of Damocles now so threateningly hanging o'er the New Forest's venerable but devoted head-that destruction may be for a while averted from its sylvan shades ; that the tottering ruin of this princely chase, may-for at least another seasonnot crumble into dust ; that the echoes of old “ Ytene” may once more echo responsive to the deep-mouth'd blood-hound's bay, and that their gallant huntsman, whilst - winding horn and hallooing hound" through its romantic forest glades, may next Spring afford his wonted sport, and again lead fields numerous and brilliant as he did, during the last season of April, 1852.

THE JUNGLE, OR WILD COCK.

(FROM OUR EAST INDIAN CORRESPONDENT.)

MR. EDITOR, -As our common barn-door fowl derives its origin from the wild cock of the forests of Hindoostan, I would respectfully submit to you, for the information of a few of your general readers, some autoptical remarks on the nature and habits of the Gallus sylvestris Indicus as he is met with in his native wilds.

The above bird constitutes one of our best features in the catalogue of Indian game. Indeed, we possess but four of the Gallina genus in this country-viz., pea-fowl, jungle ditto, partridges, and quail ; the penultimate kind in a quadruple variety, consisting of the black, the brown, the red-legged (commonly called the chekoar), and the dwarf, or golden partridge.

Whilst I was on a visit to a friend at Jellasore, a very woodland portion of country, lying on the Soobunruka river, about 135 miles south of Calcutta, my ears were constantly assailed at earliest dawn by the reiterated challenges of the jungle cocks—some proceeding from spots immediately contiguous to the homestead, others from a more remote distance-insomuch that a person who was a stranger to the neighbourhood might be justified in believing that he was residing in juxta-position with a colony of farmers, whose object it was to encourage an almost unlimited stock of poultry upon his estates.

The plumage of the jungle cock is very rich. The neck feathers are of a resplendent golden hue, becoming darker as they extend towards and along the back of the bird. The wings are black ; breast feathers ditto ; the tail ditto, spotted with mallard green ; uropigium, white; crest lofty, thin, and florid; ears and wattles, white; legs, black; spurs, long and cuspid. His weight, when in good order, is about three pounds.

There is no bird, perhaps, throughout India so sensitive to selfpreservation as is the jungle cock. His vigilance, his wariness, and his cunning are so well balanced, that he is the most difficult of all others to approach. The only chance of meeting with him is about sunrise or sunset, when, with a party of his concubines, consisting of from three to four in number, he ventures forth into the plains or stubble fields to feed. His haunts are for the most part to be observed proximate to some heavy cover, almost impervious to the fowler, such as is composed of dwarf corinda, serrated cane brake, and Mysore thorn, which, when the same become interlaced, would almost break the heart of an elephant in the attempt of the latter to combat with them.

In the midst of these inaccessible retreats are occasionally to be met with a few detached mangal and tamarind trees, which these birds are apt to frequent and resort to as their roosting haunts, and it is in such positions that they afford means to the sportsman of securing them, and then oftentimes with the risk of lacerating his person in a most cruel manner, in his attempt to retrieve the birds from the jungle after he has managed to kill them.

The most successful mode to adopt in jungle fowl shooting is, for a person to attire himself in a black gauze suit of apparel, so as to resemble the sable complexion of the native character as nearly as possible (for these birds will allow a Hindoo labourer to approach them much nearer than they will an European), and take up a concealed position at the side of the cover, having a commanding view of the stubble field. The birds will be sure to come out when all is quiet, and when they entertain no apprehension of danger, and will advance some way into the enclosure, picking up what grain they may meet with. When they have extrava gated far afield, it is then advisable for the sportsman to rise and creep softly along the woodside, and endeavour thereby to intercept the birds in their retreat into the jungle, to which latter they will immediately make, the moment they become alarmed for their safety. Should the cock be foiled in his attempt to effect a current escape, he will thereupon take wing, and for the most part direct his flight towards the spot whence he egressed into the enclosure ; in the latter instance, himself, as well as the hens, will frequently arrive within reach of the gun's range, and thereby fall before the sportsman.

I have repeatedly watched, of an afternoon, for some hours together, concealed in ambush, for the appearance of these birds coming out to feed-in covers too, wherein I was aware they abounded ; and, although they were gasconading around me in every direction, and some of them were close at hand, yet, to my great mortification and utter disappointment, not a single bird has, during the whole course of the evening, ventured abroad.

The most effective practice I could pursue for securing these fowl was, to hire about two dozen parriah, or hill coolies, whose hides had become, by dint of long usage to jungle exercise, as invulnerable as those of a mailed rhinoceros, the same being furnished with thick bamboo poles, whilst two or three more of the gang were provided with tom-toms (small drums beaten by the wrists and fingers). These beaters I instructed to proceed straightway into the heavy covers, and drum away, and shout, and make as much noise as they could, at the same time to thrash and belabour the brakes and bushes with their long poles without intermission, whilst I myself, keeping in a parallel line with them, proceeded, gun in hand, along the side of the covers. This scheme, I soon found, had the desired effect. No sooner had this sort of tomasha (sport) begun, than (as the late William Cobbett was wont to say, in allusion to the effect of his political writing) “the straw began to move." There became quite a sudden revolution in the affairs of things; for, lo! deer of various kinds, wild hogs, wild cats, jackals, hares, jungle and pea-fowl, and every other quiet tenant of the jungle was roused, and appeared panic stricken. The scene somewhat resembled the inmates of a menagerie let loose, upon a limited scale. Had I been accompanied by half-a-dozen brother sportsmen, we might, collectively, have emburthened the coolies with more game than they could have sustained on their persons and carried home. The jungle fowl, in their alarm, made direct for the standing timber, several of these trees abutting immediately on that portion of the field