swallowed it. A curious case of injury to a fox’s leg was reported by myself in the u Field,” in March 1868. Mr. E. Ward writes as follows

I send to the “ Field” office, for Mr. Buckland’s inspection two bones of a fox—the ulna and radius. Reynard’s path through

life had evidently been anything but a smooth one; but, being a remarkably fine fellow, I have him to stuff. These bones, which belong to the near side foreleg, appear to me to have been badly broken by the animal having become entangled by a fine snare, which was found on, and still surrounds, the bones. Eey-nard was also found, in the stripping off of his jacket, to have met with other dangers, there being a lot of shot lodged under the skin: but he seemed to have quite recovered, and, indeed, was in full condition, bearing no outward marks of having been in the wars with the exception of having a swelling near the carpel or wrist-bones, caused by the junction of the fracture of the two next them, which I have the pleasure of sending you, but which was not very perceptible with the fur on. After having met with these, and probably divers other narrow escapes of his life, he at last fell a victim to a more legitimate death by the noble sport of fox-hunting. Edwin "Ward.

My report on the above specimen was as follows

“I am obliged to Mr. Ward for allowing me to inspect this interesting specimen. It is quite evident, in a medico-legal point of view, that the fox bad been caught by the foot in a a rabbit wire. I do wire—probably not, however, think a positive fracture has taken place; for, upon minute examination, the two bones underneath the swelling show no symptoms of a fracture. The appearance of this accident is, however, caused by a considerable effusion of bony matter round the part which has been so firmly compressed by the wire—the natural consequence of the inflammation of the periosteum surrounding the bone.”

It is wonderful how careless the generality of taxider-mists are when they stuff a fox’s head. They can,

indeed, but rarely restore the wonderful appearance of cunning to the fox, but they may, at any rate, give him a properly-shaped glass eye. In nine stuffed foxs’ heads out of ten, the pupils of the eyes are made round like a dog’s, and not elliptic like a cat’s. The fact is, that a fox being a nocturnal animal, has a cat’s eye, and not a dog’s. This is a point which should be looked to. Again, it is curious to remark that a fox, when pleased, expresses his pleasure by wagging his brush, as a dog wags his tail. The poor fox is not often on terms of friendship enough with mankind to show his pleasure; but still I have observed a fox wag his brush, and once only and this at the Edinburgh Zoological Gardens.

Fox cubs are pretty little amusing things. A man who drove a Hansom cab about London used to have a handsome cub fox on the top of his cab, and the little fellow seemed quite at home up there. I was very sorry to hear the other day that this poor man was thrown off his cab coming from the Epsom races, and that both he and his fox were killed on the spot. A great number of cub foxes are sold every spring at Leadenhall Market; they are imported from France and Germany, and sold to owners of packs of fox hounds. I have seen as many as twenty or thirty of them all huddled together in a big flat box. When the cover is opened, and one peeps into the box, it is most curious

to see all the beautiful little heads of the dear little cubs crowded together, and their lustrous diamond-like

eyes staring at one. I have lately heard of an ancient village dame who had a litter of cub foxes and a cow given under her charge, the whole produce of the milk of the cow to be devoted entirely to the cubs. Old Mrs.—— was faithful to her charge, and got up at dawn to feed them every morning. She succeeded in rearing the whole number, and five out of the seven cubs were vixens. They were all turned down when they arrived at fox-hood; but long before this time the worthy old dame began to complain. “ Lor, master, do’e be so good as to let them things go; they gets so tarnation big now that they fights and scratches like a lot of young fiends when I gives ’em their victuals; and they pretty nigh stinks me and my daughter out of house and home. Now, do’e, sir, let ’em go, poor dears.” I need hardly say the old woman’s request was complied with, and the “ poor dears ” have long since done their foster-nurse credit by the excellent sport they have afforded before

the hounds.

Ladies have, I believe, as a rule, a better chance than gentlemen of taming wild animals, as the following will prove. My excellent and kind-hearted friend, the late lamented Lady Hornby, told me that she once expressed a wish, when residing at Constantinople, to

try if she could tame a wild Turkish street dog, and asked some gentlemen to catch her one. They ac* cordingly went out in pursuit, and in due course of time brought home their capture alive, half dead with fear, and as savage as possible.

The poor hunted thing immediately ran for protection to Lady Hornby, and would not quit her side. She tied it up in the stable, and by taking to it and feeding it herself, managed to make it quite tame. One day she was showing her pet to a gentleman who knows a good deal about animals. When he saw it he said, u Why, Lady Hornby, what have you got here? ” “ Oh, it’s my tame street dog,” was the answer. u It’s no street dog at all,” said; u it's a common

brute of a wild jackal.” “ Anyhow,” said the lady, dog or jackal, I have tamed him now, and don’t mean to part with him ’ ’— plain proof to all that female influence can tame the most ferocious of animals.

Our friends should be very careful how they injure vixen foxes at the time they are likely to be in charge of cubs laid up. In April 1868, a “ Warwickshire squire ” kindly sent me seven dead fox cubs found in a pollard oak, wishing to know if I could ascertain the cause of death. They were exceedingly pretty little things, and at first sight might be taken for young black

;

and tan terrier pups. The eyes, of course, were closed but a touch of the knife soon opened the eyelids, and then they looked more like foxes. The tongues were enormous, compared to the size of the head, and the back part of the mouth and the sides of the upper jaws were beautifully adapted to hold on to the mother, reminding us somewhat of the arrangement of the palate and fauces as described by Professor Owen in the young of the kangaroo. The first characteristic that struck me as common to them all, when placed in a row, was the fact that their mouths were dirty. Upon closer examination I found the tongues, the palates, and the back regions of their mouths, covered with “ dirt.” Upon examining this dirt under the microscope, I found it to be principally earth mould and decayed vegetable matter. I then opened them, and found that the lungs (the appearance of which, by the hydrostatic test, showed they had breathed air) and the rest of the internal organs were perfectly healthy; the stomachs I found to contain portions of the same dirt as was in the mouths, and also a very little white-looking substance, which the microscope told me was milk, the milk globules being easily distinguishable. My idea upon the subject is, that these cubs were born alive and suckled by the mother; she then, from some cause, was either driven away from them or else deserted them spontaneously;

they remained alive as long as the milk in their stomachs would last them, and then, suffering from hunger and

thirst, the poor little things crawled about the bottom of their nursery crying for their suppers, and licking up the material which composed the bottom of it. The verdict, therefore, is, in my humble opinion, u Died of hunger and thirst, not having access to the mother.” I sent this family of cubs to be stuffed in a family group, with the label, “ Babes in the Wood,” to show how careful sportsmen ought to be of the mother foxes, and what mischief may ensue to their little families should the poor things anyhow be killed, either intentionally or by accident. After exhibition in u The Field ” window, the group was sent back to the u Warwickshire Squire.” The sign of “ The Fox ” is not at all uncommon in country villages. At Steventon village, in Berkshire, which formerly was the nearest station on the Great Western Railway to Oxford (before Didcot Station was built), there is a “ Fox ” public house; and many a time I have had a glass of ale there in my younger days, when acting as whipper-in to the Berkshire fox hounds, of which my late uncle, Thomas Thornhill Morland, of Sheepstead, near Abingdon, was formerly the master. The inscription on the signboard ofthe “ Fox ” runs (if my memory serves me) thus—

I am a Fox, you plainly see, No harm you can derive from me,

My master he confines me here, Because I know he sells good beer.

Having published the above in u The Queen ” newspaper, Cuthbert Bede was good enough to send the following communication: “ Perhaps the four lines of doggerel mentioned by Mr. Buckland are to be met with in various parts of England; for, in 1851, I saw them on a signboard in the village of Folkesworth, near Stilton, Huntingdon-shire, and then copied them, and sent them to the u Illustrated London News,” where they were published, Dec. 27, 1851 (vol. xix. p. 783). As they vary from the lines givenby Mr. Buckland, and are also a remarkable specimen of rustic orthography, they may be worthy of preservation in your pages. A rude figure of a fox was painted on the upper portion of the sign, underneath which appeared these lines, here copied

verbatim et literatim

I . HAM . A . CTJNEN . FOX .

YOU . SEE . THER . HIS .

NO . HARME . ATCHED .

TO . ME . IT . IS . MY . MRS .

WISH . TO . PLACE . ME .

HERE . TO . LET . YOU . NO .

HE . SELS . GOOD . BEERE .

u This inscription, being translated, would read as

(ollows:

I am a cunning fox, you see; There is no harm attached to me It is my master’s wish to place me here, To let you know he sells good beer. “ The signboard with this inscription had been there since the earliest memory of the oldest inhabitant; but within these few years the inscription has been painted over. Folkesworth village lies in the midst of the Fitzwilliam Hunt.” From that interesting book, 11 The History of Sign Boards,” &c. &c,, f we learnt that formerly there used to be a sign of the u Three Foxes,” in Clement’s Lane, Lombard Street, carved in stone, representing three foxes sitting in a row; but a few years ago the house came into the possession of a legal firm, who, no doubt afraid of the jokes to which the sign might lead, thought it advisable to do away with the carving, by covering it over with plaster. We also read of the following signs Fox and Goose, Fox and Duck, Sheffield; Fox and Hen, Long Itchington; Fox and Lamb, Newcastle; Fox and Grapes, Fox and Crane, Fox and Hounds, Fox and Owl, Nottingham; Fox and Bull, Knightsbridge; Fox and Cap, Smithfield; Fox and Crown, Newark and Nottingham; Fox and Knot, Snow Hill; and the Flying Fox, Colchester; &c. &c. The days of animal worship are, to a certain extent,

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