When a litter of young wolves are about to come into the world, the mother carefully prepares a comfortable bed of any soft substance she can gather, and interweaves it with some of her undermost fur. When the cubs are born, they are gradually accustomed to eat flesh, and when about four months old are taken out by their parents and "learned their business." "Not the least curious part of their education," says a well-known writer, "consists of their being inured to suffering, and taught to bear pain without complaint; their parents are said to bite, maltreat, and drag them by the tail, punishing them if they utter a cry, until they have learned to be mute."

Not only is the she-wolf exceedingly fond of her progeny, she is, as there is abundant proof, pleased that others should notice her cubs. Hearne relates that he has frequently seen the Indians go to their dens, take out the cubs, and play with them. The wolf, however, knows he is perfectly safe in the hands of the Indian. Almost all Hindoos have a superstitious dread of destroying, or even injuring it, and the village community within whose boundary a drop of wolf's blood has been shed, believes itself cursed until sufficient atonement be made. Wolves, however, when confined have exhibited the same confidence in their jailers, as regards their young, and equal satisfaction at seeing them caressed. One confined in a London menagerie, though of fierce disposition, looked on contentedly while the keepers handled and played with her cubs; and it is recorded by Bell that a she-wolf which was exhibited with other wild beasts was so anxious that the public should see her pups, that, one after the other, she rasped the life out of them against the front bars of her prison.

Respecting the cunning of the wolf, it is doubtful if even that symbol of sly, the fox, can match it. When inhabiting populated districts, where of course constant war is waged against him, the craft he exhibits is wonderful. He will never quit cover to windward; as he trots along, he obliterates with his tail all trace of his foot-prints, while one ear is cocked forward and the other back; when he travels in company, he at every bound takes wonderful aim at the foot-prints of his predecessor, so that where a dozen have passed it seems no more than one or two; he will ever feign death. Captain Lyons, whose men caught a wolf in a trap, says, "The animal being to all appearance dead, the men proceeded to drag it aboard ship. The eyes, however, were observed to blink whenever any thing closely approached them, so some precaution was consider

ed necessary, and the legs being tied, he was hauled up head downward. To our surprise he suddenly made a vigorous spring at those near him, and afterward repeatedly turned himself upward so as to reach the rope by which he was suspended, endeavoring to gnaw it asunder, and making angry snaps at the persons who prevented him. Several heavy blows were struck on the back of his neck, and a bayonet was thrust through him, yet above a quarter of a hour elapsed before he died."

The wolf's fondness for pork is something remarkable, and concerning the same a curious anecdote is related by Lieutenant Aldenburg. While standing at the edge of a frozen lake, he saw a large pig approach a hole that had been made in the ice, and commence drinking. While looking toward the horizon, the Lieutenant saw some dark object seemingly no larger than a cricket ball bowling rapidly over the white snow; as he gazed, however, the ball increased in size, and gradually assumed the proportions of a wolf, evidently making for the unsuspecting porker at the top of its speed. Mr. Aldenburg loaded his gun and hurried to the rescue; but before he reached the spot the wolf had come up with his prey, and, large as it was, tumbled it over easily. So intent was he on the banquet before him that the Lieutenant approached quite close, and dispatched him with a bullet. A piece nearly a foot long had been torn out of the pig's flank, and the poor animal was so scared that he trotted home like a dog by his preserver's side.

The wolf of the far West is described as an animal of wonderful strength, ferocity, and sagacity. "As a general rule," says the author of an article on "Fur Hunting in Oregon," "the bear and the buffalo will not attack man; but in spring the wolf flies at every living thing he sees. Horses are his usual prey, and them he pursues with almost human cunning. When a band of wolves discover a horse, they encamp at some little distance, all the troop squatting on their hams except two old fellows, who sally forth toward the horse. He is frightened at first by his visitors; but they gambol so pleasantly in the field, and look so innocent and friendly, that by degrees his terror subsides, and he continues to graze. Then the wolves slowly separate, one going to the front of the horse, the other to his rear, and both frisking about as amiably and apparently as unconcerned as before. Slowly and cautiously they approach the doomed steed with equal steps; when they are within springing distance-they can cover over twenty feet at a bound-both dash at him together, one at his head, the other at his hamstrings. Horses are proverbi

ally helpless under some circumstances; this is one of them. The most the poor creature does is to turn round and round, uttering cries of pain. In a few seconds the wolf who attacked him from behind-this being the main attack-has cut the sinews of his legs, and he falls helplessly to the ground. Then the whole pack come rushing down, howling, and each eager to tear a morsel from the living carcase. There is little left for the vultures."

HOW THE WOLF IS TRAPPED AND HUNTED.

THE Esquimaux, whose sledge, dogs, and reindeer are in hourly peril, construct an ingenious trap for this their most terrible enemy. It is, indeed, fashioned on exactly the same principle as the familiar square wooden mouse-trap, only that the sides and roof are made of slabs of ice, and the front, instead of being wire, is likewise of ice and slides up and down in grooves. The sliding front is raised and secured by a string which passes through the back of the trap, and is attached to a hook within the icy walls on which the bait is hung. At the very first nibble the transparent door is released and slides down with a crash, and the Esquimaux, leisurely knocking a hole in the wall of the trap just large enough to insert his spear, thrusts at the helpless wolf till it dies.

The common mode of hunting the wolf in regions where sledges can be used, is for a party to take with them their guns, plenty of ammunition, and a porker a few weeks old. As has been already mentioned, the wolf is particularly partial to young pig, and can't

hear its tender voice without a violent hankering to make its closer acquaintance. Of this weakness of the wolf the sportsman makes capital, and when the sledge is fairly started in the wilderness, applies his teeth, or digits, to the little pig's tail, till it squeals lustily. If wolves are about, out they come, and boldly approaching the sledge, are easily picked off by the men with the muskets.

That this sport, however, is not always unattended by danger, was proved by a shooting-party that set out from the neighborhood of Forsbacka. The guns were loaded, the pig made to squeal, and, by and by, out came the wolves, and half a dozen of the pack were at once bowled over, and torn to fragments and devoured by their fellows. To the consternation of the hunters, however, they did not then retreat. Their appetites whetted with blood, the ravenous beasts came leaping boldly at the sledge, taking no heed of the shower of bullets by which they were assailed, and only a very few of the beasts lagging behind to eat up their stricken brethren. The driver lashed his horse to its utmost speed, which, after all, was but a miserable canter compared with the sinewy strides of the gaunt pack, who edged round the frail vehicle with glaring eyes and lolling tongues. To gain a little time, the pig was thrown to them. A little time, indeed! The porker was lapped up as quickly as redhot iron laps up a sprinkle of water, and on they came again, and with such a yell that the maddened horse made a great plunge, and freeing himself of the trace-chains bounded away, leaving the sportsmen in an awful predicament. A moment wasted and they were all dead men and wolf-meat, but luckily a brilliant idea shot into the mind of the captain. "Load and fire all at once," said he. No sooner ordered than executed, and the wolves, for a moment scared, held off. "Now let us turn the sledge bottom upward, and get beneath it." It was accomplished instantly; and there they were boxed under the fragile machine, and clinging to it with all their might, to save it from being overturned by the mad and baffled pack, who leaped at it and over it, and shook it with their disappointed fangs; and so the party remained till sought for and released by their friends.

One of the most thrilling recitals of wolf adventure is given by the author of The Hunting Grounds of the Old World," as it was related to him by an Abbassian chief with whom the writer in question fell in while hunting in Circassia.

During the winter of 1852, when the whole country lay covered with snow for months together, a force had been collected and sent out in the plains to harass and annoy the Russians, but having met

with a reverse they scattered, and each tribe made the best of its way homeward. The party to which the narrator belonged consisted of eleven men, fairly mounted, and armed with matchlocks, pistols, and swords, with five prisoners-four Russian soldiers and a woman. As they were travelling a vast plain they perceived a pack of seven wolves slowly following them, of which number they killed two or three with their matchlocks, for the sake of the fur, and, dispersing the rest, continued their journey.

Shortly afterward a strange howling noise was heard in the rear, which at first sounded like the roaring of the wind, but at length their attention was called to a dark mass of black objects spreading over the snow like a cloud on the horizon, and the full extent of their danger burst upon them, for they knew they were pursued by a horde of wolves.

Their horses were already fatigued with a long day's journey, but terror seemed to give them wings, for they tore along as if they knew their peril, and for a while seemed to hold their own. The nearest hamlet was at least seven miles distant, and the ground was in many places so deep with drifted snow that their horses could hardly get along. The crisis was now evidently fast approaching, for the advanced troop were almost within gunshot, howling and yelling as wolves only can. A brief consultation was held, and it was determined to sacrifice the prisoners one by one, so as to gain time for the rest to escape. The woman met her fate first. One of their number, stepping behind, drew his sabre across the hocks of her horse, hamstringing it, and causing both to fall heavily to the ground. A terrible cry rang in their ears for a moment, and then all was still.

They anxiously looked back, and found that this desperate expedient had enabled them to gain considerably on their pursuers, but it was not for long; they were soon again on their heels, when a Russian soldier was sacrificed by shooting his horse; a second, a third, and fourth followed, and much time was gained, and a considerable distance covered; still their insatiable foes pressed on apparently more ferocious than before, for their appetite was whetted with the taste of blood. They now commenced firing their guns among them, but it was of no avail, for although many fell the rest rushed on, and the course of the horde was not stayed. The horses of two of their number now gave up and fell with shrieks, as if they knew the fate that awaited them, and although their riders were swift of foot, they could not keep up their speed for any length of time in