It should be observed that the Wild-cat is crouching a little, which takes off from its height, while full effect is given to that of the Tame.

as in the domestic animal, but is always a dusky grey, brindled on the belly and flanks with dingy brownhair long and rough,—the head exceedingly broad,ears short, tusks extremely large.

guishing point is the great length and

Another very distin

power of the limbs. It stands as high as a good-sized dog. But perhaps the most unfailing mark of all is the tail, which is so long and bushy as to strike the most careless observer. In the males it is generally much shorter than in the females, but even more remarkable, being almost as thick as a fox's brush.

The

The woodcut is taken from the largest female that has ever been killed in Dumbartonshire, and most correctly shows the difference of its size from that of a full-grown house-cat. It was trapped on the banks of Loch Lomond in the depth of winter, having come down to the low ground in quest of prey. The bait was half a hare, hung on a tree, the trap being set immediately under. person who went to inspect it thought, when at a little distance, that a yearling lamb was caught. As he came near, the cat sprang up two or three feet from the ground, carrying the large heavy trap as if scarcely feeling its weight. He would have had great difficulty in killing it, had he not dodged round the tree when aiming a blow. I have seen two males bearing the same proportion to this specimen, both in size and fierceness of aspect, as an old half-wild Tom to a chimney-nook mother Tabby. One of these was shot by a gamekeeper, when on a grouseshooting expedition, in a very remote range; the other was trapped near the top of a high mountain.

Except in the depth of a very severe winter, the wildcat seldom leaves its lone retreat. Nothing comes amiss to it in the shape of prey; lambs, grouse, hares, are all seized with equal avidity. The female fears nothing when in defence of her young, and will attack even man himself. She generally rears them in rocky clefts and precipices. I saw a couple of young ones that were killed in one of the mountain cairns; they were nearly as large as a house-cat, although not many weeks old. It was curious to see their short tails, and helpless, unformed kitten look, contrasted with their size. Several attempts were made to shoot the old one, but she was never seen; probably, upon missing her young, she forsook the rocks.

The wild-cat has seldom more than three or four young ones at a time—often only two.

One

A sad and rather romantic story in connection with the wild-cat occurred about seven years ago, in the neighbourhood of my residence at that time. The farmer of Ben Ledi had detected some young wild-cats among the massy precipices near the top of that sublime mountain. morning, after desiring his family to tell his brother (who was expected from Edinburgh on a visit) that he would be back in the afternoon, he left his home and wound his way up to the rocks of the wild-cats' den. Not appearing at nightfall, they became much alarmed, and arranged a party to search the mountain at break of day. As he had said something about destroying the wild-cats, they determined first to seek him there. Within a short distance of the