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and its motions more light and springy. I have never observed it in any part of the Highlands.

The common Mus aquaticus is an ugly creature, and his disgusting look is increased by the apparent deficiency of ears. I remember three being taken alive, by a water-dog, on the Thames, of a rich cream colour. They all kept to the same bend of the river, and were constantly noticed gamboling among the reeds before they were captured. I never saw more savage little creatures; they seemed to surpass even an imprisoned weasel in ferocity.

I have often noticed that loathsome creatures prey upon loathsome food; a favourite morsel of the water-rat is a bloated toad,* while a nest of earwigs are the choice tit-bits of the latter. As many as forty have been taken out of a toad's maw. Sheridan's remark to a poor starved man eating shrimps is equally appropriate here—“You're very like your meat."

The otter, like all animals that depend on the waters for prey, loses much of his address and cunning when cut off from his native element. Bewildered on land, he seems to feel that he has no fair play, and sometimes refuses to take advantage even of the resources within his reach. In the river or loch, on the contrary, he has always his wits about him, and will try every ruse ere he yields up his life.

* I have frequently offered my brown owls a toad, but they always refused it. They, however, greedily devoured frogs; and once, when the old male had just swallowed one, we cheated him with a toad. As soon as he detected the nauseous mouthful, he threw it from him with every symptom of disgust, although, in his hunger, he had half bolted it. Even the voracious pike rejects a toad as bait.

Y

When hunted, and want of air forces him to the surface, he either takes advantage of a water leaf to cover the tip of his nose, all the rest of him being immersed, or comes up under some rotten stump precisely his own muddy colour. Flapper shooters may notice the same instinct, when they surprise a brood of ducklings, though in a far less degree. At the signal of the mother they all dive, but come to the top again so stealthily-some under a screen of weeds, wrapped round them like a green veil, and others hidden by a hollow bank or root-that, although several are within a few yards, none may be detected until they are winded by the sagacious retriever.

THE HILL POACHER

AN English poacher is generally to be found among the very dregs of the people - a hardened unscrupulous blackguard, who would shoot the gamekeeper with greater pleasure than he would a pheasant, who fears nothing but detection, and whose conscience would never sting him till on his death-bed. Scotch poachers are a different class of men. To be thieves, drunkards, and, if need be, murderers, is not a necessary part of their calling. And, although they are in general not the most reputable part of society, yet many, especially in the Highlands, stand pretty fair with their neighbours. The cause of this difference is easily traced. In England the ground is far more easily preserved, and the keepers much better trained; therefore no man need attempt the destruction of game, unless he is prepared to run all risks of a deadly skirmish with the watchers. Indeed there would be few poachers in England, were it not for the great abundance of what may be termed tame game. But the temptations to netting, snaring, ginning pheasants at perch, or

smoking them by means of brimstone, are so great, that the poachers traffic with the game-shops to an enormous

extent.

To be a good shot, or understand anything of sporting, is not of much consequence to the English poacher, his method of securing game being a good deal like robbing a hen-roost or rabbit-warren. These men generally poach in company, the numbers being regulated by the party of watchers they expect on the out-look. The gang, often half-drunk, sally forth from some low beer-shop whenever the night is clear and starry. If there are many hares or rabbits in the preserve, they take some mute curs to drive them about, after having set the snares. The fowlingpiece, though always carried, in case of an encounter, is seldom used upon game; except, perhaps, with a quarter of a charge, to knock down pheasants at roost, within pistol-shot. This makes little noise, but, of course, they prefer making none. It is well known, when they do resort to this method, that, by beginning at the lowest bough, they may nearly clear the tree. But, should they stupidly shoot the top bird first, the others are very apt to fly off when it comes rustling past them. They have various other methods of quietly destroying game, some of which are practised even in broad daylight. It is seldom, however, that love of sport can be urged in their defence, as these depredations are exactly akin to gipsy thefts, and have little of the excitement caused by love of hunting, so natural to man. It is easy to see that none but desperate characters would engage in such a life. By

constantly herding and drinking together, they corrupt each other more; and, by living in continual apprehension, and determining to brave the worst, they learn to set no value on human life, especially that of a gamekeeper.

Scotch poachers may be divided into Highland and Lowland. The latter class more nearly approximate to their brethren in England, especially those in the neighbourhood of large towns; viz., poach in company, have no pleasure in the sport, and care only for the profit. The deer on the islands of Loch Lomond were sometimes killed by printers from the Leven works, who, coming in boats, took their booty away with them to sell to the Glasgow poulterers. The foresters had not unfrequently to fire on the boats to keep them off. On one occasion, a party effected a landing upon the Duke of Montrose's deer island, and, having slain one animal and wounded another, were surprised by the forester and his friends. They all, except one, managed to get back to their boat, leaving the deer behind. When the unfortunate printer saw his friends row off, he managed to hide himself, and could not be discovered. The forester (a gallant Graeme) took measures to prevent his escape by immediately securing his own boat, and shotting his rifles. A perfect hurricane of wind most opportunely set in for several days, and prevented the gang, without imminent risk of life, from returning at night. During the day, the forester took his station on a point that commanded a view of the whole island, and, when a boat's crew appeared, ran down to meet them. The printers often attempted to land, but,

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