back without motion, and we looked on victory as certain. The socket of the harpoon appeared, sticking out from the stomach of the fish the whole shank was buried in his body. We saw neither tail, nor head, nor horns, nor wings-nothing but an unsightly white mass, undistinguished by member or feature.

"After a moment's pause to single out some spot for a mortal blow, I plunged the lance, socket and all, into the centre of this white mass. The negroes who held the line of the harpoon took a turn round the gunwale to prevent its slipping. The boat lurched with the swell of the sea; and the moment the dead weight of the fish, unsupported by the water, was felt, the harpoon tore out! An instant before I saw it driven to the socket in the body of the fish; the next it was held up in the air in the hands of the negro, bent like a scythe. There was time, if there had been presence of mind, to plunge it anew into the fish, which floated a second or two on the surface. The moment was lost!

"I will not attempt to describe the bitter disappointment that pervaded the party. For a moment only a faint hope revived; my lance, secured by a cord, was still in his body-—it might hold him! 'Clear my line, boys!' Alas! the weight of the fish is too much for my tackle; the line flies through my hand-is checked-the socket of the lance is drawn through the orifice by which it entered —and the fish is gone! We spoke not a word, but set our sails and returned to the beach at Bay Point. We felt like mariners who, after a hard conflict, had sunk a gallant adversary at sea, yet saved not a single trophy from the wreck to serve as a memorial of their exploit."

But our adventurer was not always so unsuccessful in his novel and exciting sport; elsewhere he tells us how he pursued and destroyed his hideous "game."

"On the 15th of July, 1843," he says, "I set out from Bay Point on a cruise in a good six-oared boat, manned by five oarsmen, having T. R., a cadet from West Point, and his cousin, a youth of fifteen, on board with me. E. B. M. and H. R., Esqs., were in another boat. We stretched across, with a north-east wind, for Hilton Head, traversing that portion of the inlet which, on former occasions, I had remarked as constituting their favorite feeding or sporting ground. We passed onward as far as Mrs. Elliott's plantation without seeing a fish. Indeed, we were not much surprised at this, for we were anticipating, by several weeks, the customary time of seeking for them, and looked upon the expedition somewhat

G G

in the light of a reconnoissance. Our consort, discouraged by the non-appearance of the fish and the appearance of some inopportune thunder-clouds, turned the head of his boat to the east, and moved to Bay Point; while we, preferring to prolong the cruise, landed at Mrs. Elliott's, and leaving a look-out man on the bluff to report if the fish made their appearance, walked up to the house to partake of a collation that we had provided. At half-ebb we set out on our return, and had reached the Bay Gall breaker, when, close to the bank, a devil-fish showed himself on the surface. Before I could reach the bow and prepare my harpoon, he had disappeared, and we drifted down a quarter of a mile without seeing him again. I had scarcely resumed my place at the stern, when he appeared just under the bow of the boat; and had I not gone aft, I must certainly have struck him. Again he sunk; but I now resolved to remain at my post, and not suffer another surprise. A thunder-squall was in our rear, and the wind, veering to the east, was blowing so strong that a short, chopping sea was raised, and I found it impossible, from the pitching of the boat, to stand on the forecastle; so I took post (standing on the bottom of the boat) as near to the bow as I could comfortably get. I did not wait long before the fish rose, and as he crossed the bow with one of those rapid circular movements, so characteristic of this species, I made a cast at him; but from my unsteady footing, and the imperfect view of him (the tip of the wing only being visible, and the water exceedingly turbid), I missed him. Again he sunk, and, when he next rose, showed his whole back above the surface. From over-anxiety, I threw the harpoon too soon, it fell short, and slightly grazed him, without entering the flesh. The fish darted off in alarm, and rose fifty yards ahead, with a demi-vault in the air! The young cadet has the helm —and as the fish shows himself, now here, now there, heads the boat in the direction-while the oarsmen, with straining sinews, sweep after him in silence. Before we can overtake him, he sinks, is invisible for five minutes together, then suddenly reappears in some unexpected direction. Not a word is spoken-the staff of the harpoon silently indicates the point—and again we press forward to assail him. And now, to our great gratification, we find that two other devil-fish had joined company; and this giving greater assurance of success, I determined to select the largest fish, and await a fairer chance for the next throw. The roughness of the water, while it disqualified the harpooner from taking steady aim, rendered the fish insensible to the noise of the oars or the approach of the boat.

"The largest fish now turned to go against the tide-this made his movements slower-and, as he brought his broad black back to the surface, I cast the harpoon, and had the satisfaction to see it this time take effect near the centre of his back-bone. Away he flew; the staff, which was firmly driven in the socket, disappearing with the harpoon, and we paid out rope to him merrily as he swept away for his fastnesses in the deep. When twenty-five fathoms were out, we took a turn round the stem, and gave him the full resistance of the boat. The iron held bravely; but his runs, though rapid, were short, and I soon inferred, from his stopping and hugging the bottom, that my aim had been deadly. These runs, however intermitted, were all toward the sea; and we found ourselves passing the last point of Hilton Head without any assurance that he might not take us over the bar before flood-tide; in which case we must cut our line and lose the fish. It was necessary, therefore, to give him a check; and we manned oars and rowed against him, to draw him to the surface. The manœuvre succeeded; and we soon had the satisfaction to see him rise to within a few feet of the top, his proximity being shown by the staff of the harpoon, still fixed in its socket, and standing up perpendicularly from his back. The thunder-cloud had now passed away, the wind had fallen, the sea had become smooth, and mounting the forecastle, which now afforded secure footing, I pitched my lance with all my force, and saw it planted alongside of the harpoon, the two staves bristling up from the back of the fish, while a gush of blood from the new wound crimsoned the surface of the sea. Away he dashed, and the stout cord that held the lance snapped like a pack-thread, leaving the iron fixed in his body, while the staff, broken in fragments, floated to the surface. By the same effort, the staff of the harpoon is disengaged, floats, and is taken on board.

Again the fish bears away for the sea, and we meet him by the same resistance of the oars. But he has now been taught that danger awaits him at the surface; he shuns it, and plunges downward for the bottom. It comes to a dead pull, and we have to choose between the risk of drawing out the harpoon or being carried out to sea. We take the former, and having no efficient lance left to annoy him, determine, if the opportunity offers, to make use of the gun. After a long effort we succeed in drawing him up; and when he once more showed himself to the light, we could observe the spear-head, with a portion of the broken staff, still sticking out from his back. The harpoon had drawn considerably from its former

hold, and the wound made by it had worried into a frightful gash more than six inches in length. Another such hard pull, and the iron may tear out. It becomes an urgent matter to dispatch him at once. His head emerges from the water, the gun, with a charge of sixteen buckshot, is leveled, the whole charge is driven into him, and a jet of blood with his next expiration is cast several feet into the air. The fish lay for an instant stunned, then plunged about madly, tossing himself quite over upon his back; then righting himself, and skimming over the surface with expanded wings, dashed his head blindly against the bow of the boat. Amid these plunges and convulsions of the dying animal it was impossible to keep a tight line or an equable pull; and we exchanged looks of dismay when we found that the harpoon had been torn out. We drew it into the boat, twisted and strained, but unbroken; and I looked undeserved reproaches at this tried and true weapon (which had already compassed the death of four devil-fish) as if the passive instrument had been in fault. What a disappointment!-to lose him thus in his very last struggle! A gleam of hope shoots across us! In this last struggle he might rise to the surface. It is possible yet to recover him. Let us prepare for it. In a moment the harpoon is straightened, the staff is refitted, and scarcely is it done, when 'There! by heavens, there he is! fifty yards ahead, floundering on the water! Now for it, boys!-reach him before he sinks!' Alas, he has already sunk!

"The turpid waters of the river have now given place to the transparent green of the sea, through which objects are distinctly visible for feet below; and look, he is rising again from his depths; every struggle and contortion of the agonized monster is clearly to be seen as he shoots upward to the light. He is upon his back-his white feelers thrown aloft above his head, like giant hands upraised in supplication. There was something almost human in the attitude and the expression of his agony, and a feeling quite out of keeping with the scene stole over me while I meditated the fatal blow. It passed away in an instant; and as he emerges from the water, the harpoon cleaves the air and is driven home into his head. A shout of exultation bursts from the crew. To have thus recovered him was, indeed, a gratification. The gun is once more brought to bear-another shot, and he is still; all to the singular movements of his feelers, which, plying restlessly about his head, curl and unfold with all the flexibility of an elephant's snout. Through the tough cartilage of one of these feelers the rope is passed, and we have him safe."

THE mufflon is one of the mammals most characteristic of the island of Corsica. It is not, however, peculiar to that island; it is also found in Sardinia, in Crete, and in Spain.

In the summer it keeps to the plateaus which border the regions of eternal snow; during the winter it descends lower. In the extreme cold it seeks the deserted cabins in which the shepherds had lodged in the summer; and it is said that in some exceptional win