species of bear (Ursus arctos) in Scandinavia, and we daresay it is quite sufficient. In consequence of the increase of cultivation, he is now confined very much to the northern portions of the peninsula, that is, from about latitude 58° to the North Cape. But to those districts in which he is wanting in quantity, he makes amends in quality, the bear of Lapland being inferior in size and prowess to those of Wermeland and the Dalecarlian forests. He sometimes weighs eight hundred pounds. Mr. Lloyd is very diffuse on the subject of bears, and in addition to his own actual observation and adventure, he quotes from all and sundry. We shall confine ourselves to the narration of a single expedition, which was attended by a tragical result. A faithful follower of the name of Svensson had ascertained the whereabouts of a bear, in a wild forest track between the rivers Dal and Clara, where the woods extend for about ten miles almost without a break. The party started long before dawn on a winter morning. The snow was deep and loose, and the track bad, but about ten o'clock they reached a wooded knoll, where bruin was presumed to be ensconced. The atmosphere was thick and hazy, and the sleet falling fast. Svensson was left on the look out, and cautioned not to leave his post, while the others moved onwards and around, threading their sinuous way through tangled breaks, and peering under mighty boulders.

"While cautiously looking around us, our expectations of seeing the bear constantly on the stretch, and my gun at the time being on the full-cock, I suddenly caught an indistinct glimpse of a large dark object amongst the trees on the rising ground above us. It was at a distance, as it seemed to me through the sleet and mist, of a good gun-shot, and though stationary so to say, it moved. Not doubting that it was the bear, I in almost the twinkling of an eye, raised and discharged my gun, when the object at which I aimed at once sunk to the ground. Though Elg and the soldier were standing immediately behind me, neither of them saw it. But this was not to be wondered at, as owing to the denseness of the cover, it was only from time to time that even a transient view could be obtained of any thing in the distance.

"Almost at the instant of firing, and at the very spot to which my aim was directed, the dog became visible, and began to bark loudly; on seeing which I cried out in great alarm:- Elg! is it possible? can I have shot my dog?' But observing by the way in which the animal pulled at his tether, that he was uninjured, and recollecting that he was with Svensson, the truth flashed at once across my mind, and I exclaimed, 'It is Svensson and not the dog that is killed!' And such was the dreadful fact! On proceeding to the spot, there lay the poor fellow stretched at his length, and stone dead! It was a piteous sight to look on; a grey-headed old man,—

he was then in his sixty-fifth year,--thus weltering in his own blood; and to me a doubly heart-rending spectacle, as it was my own hand that had sped the fatal bullet. We were all horror-stricken. For my own part, what with reflecting on myself for having been the cause of the calamity, and grief for the loss of an old and tried comrade, my feelings are not to be conveyed by words."-P. 338.

It can scarcely be expected that our adventurous hunter should himself escape uninjured from all the fearful frays on which he entered. On one occasion he observes a bear lying near the summit of a little knoll, at the outer edge of a thick brake. What picturesque elements!-the rocky height, the tangled wood, and old bruin at the mouth of his den, sunning a weather-stained garment, shaggy and rough enough to please Sir Uvedale Price! When eight or ten paces off, and just as the trigger was being pulled, the bear bolted from his lair, and made straight at his assailant. The latter had just time to fire his second barrel, and with effect so far as inflicting a severe wound without staying progress was concerned, but the brute almost at the same instant laid him prostrate. His only resource now was to bury his face in the snow to prevent mutilation of the most obvious portion of the outer man, and then lie motionless, the notion being that if a bear believes his victim dead, he inflicts no further damage. But in this case, although Mr. Lloyd played the defunct extremely well, he was sadly mauled, especially about the head.

"My body also suffered greatly from his furious attacks, which extended from the neck and shoulder downwards to the hip. But he did not attempt in any manner to hug or embrace me, as we in England seem to imagine his custom to be when carrying on offensive operations; nor did he seemingly molest me in any way with his claws. All my wounds were, to the best of my belief, inflicted with his fangs.. Neither at the time of receiving my first fire, nor whilst making his rush, did the bear, as is usually the case when enraged, utter his usual half roar half growl. Even when I was lying at his mercy, no other than a sort of subdued growl, similar to that of a dog when disturbed whilst gnawing a bone, was made by the beast; and so far from coming at me with open jaws, as one would suppose to be the case with a wild beast when making his onset, his mouth at the time was altogether closed. The pain I suffered from his long-continued attacks was bearable. When he had my limbs in his jaws, it more resembled their being stuck in a huge vice than anything else; but when his jaws grasped, as they did, the whole crown of my head, during which I distinctly felt the fleshy part of his mouth to overlap my forehead, and his fangs very deliberately scored my head, my sufferings were intense. The sensation of his fangs slowly grating over the bare skull, was not at all that of a sharp blow, as is often the case when a wound is inflicted, but rather, though very

much more protracted, the craunch one feels during the extraction of a tooth. From certain circumstances I have reason to believe the bear continued to maltreat me for nearly three minutes. As I perfectly retained my senses the whole time, my feelings, whilst in this horrible situation, are beyond the power of description. But at length the incessant attacks of my gallant little dog drew the beast's attention from me, and I had the satisfaction to see him retreat, though at a very slow pace, into the adjoining thicket, when he was at once lost to view. Immediately after he left me I arose, and applied snow by the handful to my head to stanch the blood which was flowing from it in streams. I lost a very large quantity, and the bear not a little, so that the snow all around the scene of conflict was literally deluged with gore."-Pp. 422, 423.

This is good, and to the purpose in hand. Far better, surely, than the maukish and unnecessary extracts from Pontoppidan, a most excellent man in his way, and whose works when we were ourselves young and innocent, which is a long time ago, we were quite willing to swallow, cracken, sea-serpent, and all. But had we spent, as Mr. Lloyd has done, twenty of the best years of our life in Sweden and Norway, we should not have thought of making up our book by much quoting from the good old Bishop of Bergen. Then comes a chapter on cholera, which we shall leave for the consideration of the Board of Health. The first volume ends with an account of wolves, and their various modes of capture, --all rather tiresome in the telling.

Mr. Lloyd's second volume contains the sporting history of the fox, lynx, and glutton, among beasts of prey, of the lemming and hare among the rodent tribes, (the beaver, which is their glory, being not so much as even named,) and of the elk and rein-deer, as representing the antlered ruminants. But between the two latter we find interpolated a long and inappropriate history of Gustavus Vasa, a well-known and rather pugnacious person on the whole, but who was by no means so wild a creature as to deserve such a position, and whose sayings and doings have no possible connexion with the subject-matter of the present volumes. It is, in truth, this unnecessary amplification of irrelevant topics which forms their great defect, by increasing their size and price, and adding nothing to what any reasonable reader, on taking them up, expects and desires to know. The concluding fifteen chapters are devoted to ornithology.

The account of the lynx, as of the other animals, is greatly made up of extracts from the good Bishop, and some more recent writers. It would seem to be a sanguinary as well as a carnivorous creature; that is, it often slays far more than its necessities require. M. Skoldberg mentions that a female and her two cubs, killed in a single day no less than twenty-three sheep, of some of which the necks were partially eaten, but all the bo

VOL. XXI. NO. XLI.

dies were untouched. Although the cat tribe to which the lynx is so nearly allied, are usually regarded as the worst of carrion, this animal forms an exception, its flesh being palatable, and in appearance resembling veal. The glutton (Gulo borealis) is now found only in the northern parts of Scandinavia. He subsists almost wholly on what is fresh, and so usually kills his own meat, which ranges from the young of the gigantic elk, to rats and lemmings. However, his favourite food is the hare, of which he is almost constantly in pursuit. He also angles a good deal in summer, being very fond of fish. Læstadius tells us that on one occasion he saw four full-grown gluttons on a stone in the midst of a rapid, occupied in catching grayling. It is often shot during winter in the Gulf of Bothnia, on the ice, at a great distance from any land, having probably roamed away from terra firma in pursuit of seals. The Lapps use the glutton's flesh as food. The chapter on the fox offers nothing new. In his former work Mr. Lloyd had given the black-fox as a native of Scandinavia, and he now modifies that opinion in favour of Professor Nilsson's view, which is, "that the black-fox, as a species, does not exist in the peninsula." As a species it does not exist anywhere. Several kinds of fox are subject to that darkened condition called melanism, in the completed state of which the fur is black and glossy, and of very high value. De Capell Brooke informs us that a few are taken in the Lafodden islands, but these are merely varieties of the common fox of Europe,-Canis vulpes. In the northern parts of America, again, we meet, though rarely, with what Godman and other western writers call the black or silver fox, which La Hontan told us long ago was worth its weight in gold. Pennant has remarked that "the more desirable the fur is, the more cunning and difficult to be taken is the fox that owns it," and Mr. Hutchins adds, that "the blacker the fur the lesser the fox." Sir John Richardson does not confirm either of the last two statements. This American variety belongs to Canis fulvus. The observation we have made regarding black foxes, applies equally to the crucigerous variety called the crossfox. Among the various species known to naturalists, we find in each individuals more or less marked in a cruciform fashion by a bar of black upon the neck or shoulders, but there is no such species as the cross-fox. In Scandinavia this variety is very strongly manifested, the black line running all along the back, while the cross bar stretches over the shoulders, and down the fore-legs. But it nevertheless belongs to the common species. The fur of the American cross-fox is of great value. A good many years ago it was worth four or five guineas a skin, while that of the red fox, (Canis fulvus,) of which it is a variety, did not bring more than fifteen shillings. The difference of value,

The Scandinavian Elk.

243

according to Sir John Richardson, depends chiefly on that of colour, as some of the ordinary red foxes are found to have the fur equally long and fine.

On the history of the lemming, (Lemmus Norvegicus,) and its multitudinous migrations, we need not here dilate, as they are given with more or less exaggeration, in almost all works on natural history. That this creature should form a favourite food on the part of a herbivorous animal like the rein-deer, is a curious but distinctly established fact.

We should have liked some precise and specific information regarding the hares of Scandinavia, but this we fail to find. There seem to be two sorts there, we cannot well say whether species or varieties. The Lepus borealis is white, and inhabits the higher and more northern mountain ranges,-while the Lepus canescens is only hoary, and dwells in the southern districts. Our British hare is unknown.*

The Elk (Cervus alces) is the largest and most remarkable of the antlered animals of Northern Europe. It was formerly abundant in all the wooded districts of Scandinavia, but, in consequence of constant persecution, it has become greatly more restricted, both in distribution and amount, and has long ceased to be in use as a domesticated species. Legislative enactments, however, having been of late years passed in its favour, its numbers are again on the increase. This creature delights in the deepest recesses of the forests. During the summer season his favourite resorts are low and marshy grounds, with plenty of water, and abundance of deciduous trees. But in winter he seeks the higher grounds and thicker covers of the pine tree boughs. He is a first-rate swimmer, and ploughs the water with such force, that you "deem the deep to be hoary." In regard to the geographical distribution of the elk, Ekström states its Scandinavian boundaries as between 58° and 64° of north latitude, although no doubt exceptional cases occur on either side. Its American representative (we really know not of any difference between the moose-deer of the western world and the species now in hand) is found as far north as the mouth of the Mackenzie, in lat. 69°. In the opposite direction it was formerly found as far south as the Ohio. Denys, as quoted by

* In Britain it is well known that we have two kinds of hares,- the common sort, L. timidus, widely diffused over the island, and the alpine hare, L. variabilis, confined to the more mountainous districts of Scotland. In summer it is of a bluish grey colour, tinged with tawny, and becomes white in winter. As there are no white hares in Ireland, and those found there are distinct from our common kind, they were long supposed to constitute a third species. But this is not the case. The Irish hare is identical with the alpine hare of the Grampians, but its coat in winter undergoes no change, in consequence, we presume, of the greater mildness of the Sister Isle. We owe this observation to the late Mr. Thompson of Belfast.