dred in this manner in the course of a winter. In later years, the rein-deer have occasionally suffered severely from the mildness of the weather. This occasionally happens when the surface of the snow is first thawed, and afterwards rendered impenetrable by a crust formed by a subsequent frost. The poor animals are thus unable to get at their only food, and die in great numbers. This state of things, added to the voracity of the wolf, has often stripped the mountain Laplander of his wealth; and when his stacks of moss, collected for winter use, are exhausted, have driven him to the coast to live. by fishing. The Laplanders, who from poverty are thus driven to the sea, are called Sea Laps.

The inhabitants of Siberia anxiously depend on the wild rein-deer, who descend from the forests to the coasts, about the end of May, in large herds, partly to escape from the gadfly, and partly for the sake of the better pasture afforded by the great deserts of moss and lichen which form the plains near to the sea. About August or September, when they are about to return to the forests, the hunting is carried on with great assiduity.

"On his first arrival in spring," says Captain Lyon, "the rein-deer is thin, and his flesh is tasteless; but the short summer, when he eats the young grass, is sufficient to fatten him to two or three inches on the haunches. When feeding on the level ground, an Esquimaux makes no attempt to approach him, but should a few rocks be near, the wary hunter feels secure of his prey. Behind one of these he cautiously creeps, and having laid himself very close, with his bow and arrow before him, imitates the bellow of the deer when calling to each other, Sometimes, for more complete deception, the hunter wears his deer-skin coat and hood so drawn over his head, as to resemble, in a great manner, the unsuspecting animals he is enticing. Though the bellow proves a great attraction, yet, if a man has a good stock of patience, he may do without it, and be equally certain that his prey will ultimately come to examine him; the rein-deer being an inquisitive animal, and, at the same time, so silly, that if he sees any suspicious object which is not actually chasing him, he will gradually, and after many caperings, and forming

repeated circles, approach nearer and nearer to it. The hunters thus, by ingenuity and patience, render their rudely formed bows, and still worse arrows, as effective as the rifles of Europeans. When the deer assemble in herds, there are particular passes which they invariably take, and on being driven to them, are killed by the arrows of the men, while the women with shouts drive them into the water. The deer swim with the ease and activity of water spaniels, the people in boats chasing and spearing them; the carcases float, and the hunter is entitled to as many as he finds in his track.

It

The office of spearing is a dangerous one. is no easy thing to keep the light boat afloat among the dense crowd of the swimming deers which, moreover, make great resistance: the males, with their horns, teeth, and hind legs; whilst the females try to overset the boat, by getting their fore feet over the gunnel; if they succeed, the hunter is lost, for it is hardly possible that he should extricate himself from the throng; but the skill of these people is so great, that accidents

rarely occur. A good hunter may kill a great number in an hour. When the herd is large, and gets into disorder, it often happens that their antlers become entangled with each other; they are then unable to defend themselves, and are soon despatched.

The whole scene," says Admiral Wrangell, "is of a most curious and singular character, and quite indescribable. The throng of thousands of swimming reindeer; the sound produced by the striking together of their antlers; swift canoes dashing in among them; the terrors of the frightened animals; the danger of the huntsman; the shouts of warning, advice, or applause from their friends; the blood-stained water, and all the accompanying circumstances,-form a whole, which no one can picture to himself without having witnessed the scene."

When the chase is over, and the spoils are distributed, the deer which have been killed are sunk in the river, the ice-cold water of which preserves them many days till there is time to prepare them for future use, for which purpose the flesh is either

dried in the air, smoked, or, if early frosts set in, frozen. The tongues are considered a great delicacy.

The Dog-rib Indians take these creatures somewhat like the Esquimaux, by concealing themselves in the hide of a deer, and imitating the motions of the animal. By tossing up the horns, they can thus succeed in getting into the very heart of a herd, and, singling out the fattest, speedily despatch him with their rifle. Though the deer instantly run, they halt, in a short time, and give the hunter time for another aim. The food of the inhabitants of the dreary regions where the rein-deer is not domesticated, depends almost entirely upon the migrations of the wild herds. Admiral Wrangell, during his expedition to the Polar Seas, witnessed the following scene of distress; a proof of the fearful excess to which famine is felt among a people whose main support depends on one precarious incident.

"The migratory rein-deer had not yet passed the river Aniaj (in North Siberia). Their arrival was expected with the utmost anxiety, for scarcity was already severely felt. It often happens that