them around him for a pleasant talk, "which is

the best to kill an enemy

way

?"

"Why, shoot him, to be sure," said one.

"No, starve him," said a second.

"But I think," said the father, "I can show you a better way than this. An enemy may be killed without taking from him his life, or shedding a single drop of his blood. Let me tell you

a story to show how.

There was a farmer once who was a very cross, surly, disagreeable man. Everybody in the neighbourhood knew him, and everybody disliked him. He was sure to make the most of whatever went wrong about him, and the poor offender always met with severe punishment. There was not a boy in all the neighbourhood who didn't feel uncomfortable as he passed his gate. He was a complete pest-as much so to himself as to those about him. Every day brought him some fresh trouble, and found him in continual 'hot water;' indeed, his life was made up of broils.

"After a time, good Farmer Green came to live near him, and was soon told the character of his not over-pleasant neighbour.

'Well,' says he, if he shows off on me, I'll very soon kill him!'

"This remark of Farmer Green soon got afloat, and all sorts of things were said about it. He seemed the very last man to'kill' any one; for his looks, and his words, and actions all told of a

loving heart which throbbed in his bosom and directed his life. Mr. Green's intention at length came to the ears of the ill-natured farmer, and you may be sure he was not at all pleased about it. Everything he could do to tease, annoy, and even injure Mr. Green, was done; but somehow the man who was to kill' this ugly-tempered farmer took it all in good part, and looked as kindly as ever.

"On one occasion Mr. Green's team of oxen stuck fast in a bog, and when he asked for a little help he told him, in a rough way, that 'he had enough to do to mind his own business,' and refused to help him.

'Never mind,' said Mr. Green, to one standing by, 'I'll kill him very soon, see if I don't.'

"Soon after this, the team of the ill-natured man was in the same plight that his neighbour's had been in. Mr. Green saw it; he ran for his oxen and chains, and set off to the bog. He spoke kindly, offered his help, and began to render it; but what did he receive in reply? Why, a fierce look and an angry word: 'I don't want your help! take your oxen away.'

66 6

'No,' said the other, 'I must help you, for the night is coming on, and what is bad enough by day is ten times worse in the dark.' Away pulled the oxen and the men, and soon all was set right again.

"A strange feeling did that rough, cross man

carry home with him that evening-something which he had never felt before. And a strange look did his wife give him as he said, 'Peg, Farmer Green has killed me! He said he would, and he has done it.'

6

"Yes, the enemy' was 'killed' without the loss of a single life or one drop of blood. He went in the morning to confess his ingratitude to his kind neighbour, and to ask his forgiveness; and the very man who had been noted for nothing but his wickedness became the friend of all."

QUESTIONS:-1. What is meant when it is said that the surly man was a complete pest? 2. How did he make himself a pest? 3. How was he killed? 4. What is the best way of killing an enemy? 5. How did the surly man show that he was conquered? 6. What lesson may we learn from this story?

THE true wild cat is gradually becoming extirpated, owing to the increasing preservation of game. Inhabiting the most lonely and inaccessible ranges of rock and mountain, the wild cat is seldom seen during the daytime; at night, like his domestic relations, he prowls far and wide, walking with the same deliberate step, making the same regular and even track, and hunting his

H

game in the same tiger-like manner; and yet the difference between the two animals is perfectly clear and visible to the commonest observer. The wild cat has a shorter and more bushy tail, stands higher on his legs in proportion to his size, and has a rounder and coarser look about the head.

The strength and ferocity of the wild cat, when hemmed in or hard pressed, are perfectly astonishing. I have occasionally, though rarely, fallen in

with these animals in the forests and mountains of this country. Once, when grouse shooting, I came suddenly—in a rough and rocky part of the ground-upon a family of two old ones and three half-grown ones. In the hanging birch woods that border some of the Highland streams and rocks, the wild cat is still not uncommon; and I have heard their wild and unearthly cry echo far in the quiet night, as they answer and call to each other. I do not know a more harsh and unpleasant cry than that of the wild cat, or one more likely to be the origin of superstitious fears in the mind of an ignorant Highlander. These animals have great skill in finding their prey, and the damage they do to the game is very great, owing to the quantity of food which they require.

When caught in a trap, they fly without hesitation at any person who approaches them, not waiting to be assailed. I have heard I have heard many stories of their attacking and severely wounding a man, when their escape has been cut off. Indeed, a

wild cat once flew at me in a most determined manner. I was fishing, and in passing from one pool to another had to climb over some rocky and broken kind of ground. In doing so, I sank through some rotten heather and moss up to my knees almost upon a wild cat, who was concealed under it. I was quite as much startled as the animal herself could be, when I saw the wildlooking beast so unexpectedly rush out from between my feet, with every hair on her body standing on end, making her look twice as large as she really was. I had three small Skye terriers with me, who immediately gave chase, and pursued her until she took refuge in a corner of the rocks, where, perched in a kind of recess, out of the reach of her enemies, she stood with her hair bristled out, and spitting and growling like a common cat. Having no weapon with me, I laid down my rod, cut a good sized stick, and proceeded to dislodge her. As soon as I was within six or seven feet of the place, she sprang straight at my face over the dogs' heads. Had I not struck her in mid-air as she leaped at me, I should probably have got some severe wound. As it was, she fell with her back halfbroken among the dogs, who quickly despatched her. I never saw an animal fight so desperately, or one which was so difficult to kill. If a tame cat has nine lives, a wild cat must have a dozen.

Sometimes one of these animals takes up his residence at no great distance from a house, and