By Jacob Larwood and John Camden Hotton. Published by J. E. Hotton, Piccadilly, 1866,

gone and past, but there are still many nations upon the earth who keep up the custom with all due honours and observances, and among these may be included English men and women. It will be immediately asked what animal do we worship? The future historian of our age will (if he be jocosely inclined) be able to state,

with all truth, that the English people of the nineteenth century worshipped the fox. In the eyes of most of our country squires his life is regarded as sacred, and his death by violence (other than in the hunting field) simply murder. What are the high festivals in the country so often dedicated to? The fox, and nothing but the fox. We have our social reunions at the cover side; we have our hunt breakfasts, our hunt dinners, and our hunt suppers; and even here in London we have our “ Fox ” Club. The brush of the fox * is preserved as a trophy of prowess in the hunting field. 11 The deep deep draught

Mr. Edwin Ward, taxidermist, of 24 Wigmore Street, Cavendish Square, has shown me a novel and peculiarly ornamental method of mounting foxes’ brushes. He has discovered that without injury to the bushy character of the brush, and without cutting the brush or introducing any foreign fur or material into it, no less a number than fifteen distinctly-marked rings of alternate red and white may be produced in the process of mounting a fox’s brush. This gives the brush the appearance of belonging to a new and extraordinary species of fox, and at the same time is pretty in appearance.

SER. III. U

of the good Rhine wine ” is quaffed from his silver-mounted skull, and his image is made in gold and silver to adorn our dinner tables.

In country villages in hunting counties, as evening draws on, the orgies of fox worship are celebrated by copious libations of beer poured down the throats of those interested in his welfare, and by incantations, partly melodious, but mostly vociferous.

In higher circles wine is used in the invocations to u the God Fox; ” and there is a story on record, that a certain Head of BalJiol College, Oxford, who understanding not the meaning of terms used by certain young fox-worshippers in one of their midnight cele-orations, was much alarmed at being wakened at midnight by a most unusual uproar.

The next morning he sent for the whole party, and when they were all arranged in a row in the terrible study (the execution-room of so many delinquents), the worthy Don thus addressed them “ Gentlemen, I understand that last night you were holding an uproarious fox-hunting supper. You may be aware that the pursuit of the fox, either by dog or gun, is contrary to the statutes of the University.^

“ Statutum est quod scholares abstineant a venatione fera-rum cum canibus cujuscunque generis, viverris, retibus aut plagis; necnon ab omni apparatu et gestatione bombardarum et arcubalistarum sive etiam accipitrum usu ad aucupium.”— University Statutes,

“I heard from my windows, at midnight, many unacademical expressions, new and strange to my ears, frequently made use of by you: and, among them, I heard the words ‘ gone away,’ ‘ gone away," frequently and distinctly repeated; these words being in every case followed by the most tumultuous applause. u Now before I set you the impositions which you will of course receive, and which you really deserve, I must really beg to ask you, collectively and individually, to what member of this college you intended to apply the words 1 gone away; 5 and insist upon your immediately informing me who has dared to leave the college without my express permission in writing? ”

There is a story told of this dear old Don, alas! no longer among us, who was master of Balliol College, Oxford. He was returning one day from his constitutional ride on his quiet old cob along the Abingdon road. When he came to the turnpike he felt in his pocket for some money. Alas! he had none. “ My good man,” said he, “ I am Master of Balliol College, and you must let me pass.”

Ll I don’t care,” was the man’s reply, “ what you be master of; you ain’t master of twopence, and you can’t go through my gate.” And at the turnpike gate the old gentleman remained sitting on his cob till some of the very undergraduates who had lately received a jobation for fox-hunting

came up dressed in their red coats, and paid the twopence for their worthy Master. The undergraduates were rather frightened when they first saw the Master, as it were, lying in wait for them, but in his pecuniary difficulties, he dispelled their fears by exclaiming, “ I don’t

see you, gentlemen, I don’t see you.”

293

MY ADVENTURES AND JOURNEYS

WITH PORPOISES.

On Thursday morning, November 27, 1862, Mr. Bartlett sent a messenger to the 2nd Life Guards’ Barracks, Regent’s Park, to say that he had just received a

live porpoise. I immediately went over to the Zoological Gardens, and found the poor beast placed in a tank of sea-water

behind the aquarium-house.

I at once perceived that the porpoise was “ very bad.” He was upon his side—every now and then turning up his whitewaistcoat-like under side. His breathing, or rather blowing, was hard and laboured, and his wonderfully-constructed “ blow-hole ” at the top of his head was working with difficulty. I counted his respirations, which were eight in the minute, loud and powerful (especially the expirations), reminding one of a man snoring heavily.

It was quite evident that this porpoise was in a very exhausted state, and I could not help reasoning thus:— Here we have an animal with a four-cavitied heart,

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warm-blooded, and provided with air-breathing lungs his system is exhausted, and he feels faint.

Eeasoning thus, I could not but advise stimu-lants, as with a human being; and, having gained the permission of Mr. Bartlett, we agreed to give the porpoise a dose of ammonia, but how to do it was the question. There was only one way; so I braved the cold water and jumped into the tank with the porpoise. I then held him up in my arms (he was very heavy), and, when I had got him in a favourable position, I poured a good dose of sal-volatile and water down his throat with a bottle.* This treatment I really think had some salutary effect, for his respirations, which when I first saw him were eight in the minute, increased to ten, and then to

twelve. In two hours’ time I paid him a second visit, and again going into the water, lifted the poor beast up as well as I could, while Mr. Bartlett poured down his throat a good glass of stiff brandy and water. Again the results were good; the respirations increased to

thirteen a minute. Perceiving that the water in which he was floating was stained with blood, I examined him all over, and

I used a bottle because I could get the stimulant well down into the pharynx (the back part of the throat), and the glass was strong enough not to break if he bit at it.—-See Engraving.

THE rORrOISE.

tbund a wound in his tail which had begun to bleed. This I soon stopped with common salt. The bones of his left fin were also fractured.

Seeing that the porpoise did not get much better, Mr. Bartlett and myself agreed to give him another chance; so we fished him out of his tank, and carried him quickly to the seal’s pond, and put him carefully and gently into the water. In about an hour he got decidedly better, and of his own accord swam twice across the pond, using his tail with the peculiar motion found only in the whale tribe.^ He was, however, * Porpoises at Play.—A fish, such as a salmon or trout, propels himself by means of horizontal movements of the tail. A whale’s tail is put on at right angles to his body—a wonderful provision to enable him to swim with ease, and yet come quickly to the surface to breathe. The motions of porpoises at liberty in the sea are very different from those of our poor blind prisoners. One fine day in September, when at Herne Bay looking after oyster cultivation, I fancied I saw a splash as of something heavy falling into the water at a considerable distance out at sea. Thinking that it was a gull dashing into the water, I took up my opera-glasses to watch; I then saw a sight which gave me more pleasure than any operatic scene upon which the glasses aforesaid could be brought to bear, viz. some six or eight porpoises at play. They were going steadily on a N.E. course from the pier-head, and I fancy were at play, and not feeding. About three times in a minute, they sprang to a good height right out of the water, and projecting themselves forward described a perfect bow in the air. Of course I could not tell the distance they jumped, but judging from the time the animal was in the air, the leap would not have done discredit to any hunter with a character for brook-jumping. The sun shone

£96 TEMPERATURE OF A PORPOISE’S BREATH.

very blind and stupid; for be invariably bit bis nose against tbe edge of tbe pond.

I was curious to take tbe temperature of tbis cetacean breath, for it felt warm to tbe band as it came out of tbe blow-bole in a jet, striking tbe band like a jet of steam from a kettle. I found the temperature of tbe porpoise’s breath to be about 53° Fahrenheit.

There were only two objectors to tbe porpoise being placed in tbe seal-pond, and these were 44 Kate ” and 44 Tom,” tbe two seals, tbe rightful inhabitants thereof. It was most absurd to see them bolt away, under water, in tbe greatest alarm, to tbe further end of tbe pond, turn suddenly round, and stare up at tbe poor sick por - poise with their huge eyes and their nostrils distended to twice their size; and then down again they went in an instant, plunging under their bouse, shortly to reappear and have another long and frightened stare

at tbe intruder. As I feared, tbis poor porpoise, who had been caught at Brighton, and allowed, unfortunately, to spend several

bright at the time, and the white skin on the lower two-thirds of the porpoise’s rounded carcass, shone like a silver spinning-bait. Sometimes two or three porpoises were in the air at the same time, and, as far as I could make out, there were young ones among the party; at all events there were big ones and little ones; the big porpoises were probably giving their children a lesson in jumping. This flock of Proteus’ sheep were still keeping up their game of leap-frog when they got so far out to sea that I could observe them no more.

hours panting on a fishmonger’s slab in Bond-street, died, after all, in spite of our efforts to save him. Two days after his arrival at the gardens the poor brute was found dead on the top of the seal-pond and the seals

sang paeans. Mr. Bartlett immediately handed him over to my tender mercies, with a request that I would hold an inquest and report upon the matter at the next meeting of the Zoological Society. Accordingly, having made a dissection of his huge, pig-like carcass, I found quite sufficient cause of death to kill any creature, marine or terrestial, even though he had been treated with ammonia and glasses innumerable of brandy and water. The fishermen who had caught him had kindly given their victim a gentle reminder by means of a tap on the side of the head, which had left a considerable bruise; and they had also (I was shocked to find) acted very cruelly towards the poor prisoner. It was with difficulty that I could find his eyes. At last I discovered them deeply sunk in their sockets, and perceived that they had been wounded; the cornea of both eyes, in fact, had beer cut or torn across by (I should say, from the appearance of the wound) some rude pointed instrument, such as a nail or bit of wire. Not only were the coats of the eye thus lacerated, but on passing a probe into the wound and searching for the lens of the eye, it

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