many of these poor people have to subsist, during the latter part of summer, almost entirely on the skins which form their bedding and clothing; and, if happily a solitary rein-deer is killed, it is immediately cut up, divided among the whole tribe, and literally eaten, skin and all, the hair being just singed off. The contents of the stomach, and even the horns, are used as food. Fishes are not caught till later in the year, and even then only in small numbers; and few of the inhabitants venture to go in quest of game, fearing to miss the passage of the rein-deer, on which their subsistence so essentially depends. On the 12th of September, the starving people were filled with joy, by immense numbers of rein-deer approaching the right bank of the river opposite to Lobasnoji. I never saw such a multitude of these animals. At a distance their antlers resembled a moving forest. Crowds of people flocked in on every side, and hope beamed on every countenance as they arranged themselves in their light boats to await the passage of the deer. But whether the animals had seen and were terrified at the crowds of people, or whatever the

reason may have been, after a short pause, they turned, left the bank, and disappeared among the mountains. The utter despair of the poor starving people was miserable to witness. It manifested itself, among these rude children of nature, under various forms. Some wept aloud, and wrung their hands; some threw themselves on the ground and tore up the snow; others, and amongst them the more aged, stood silent and motionless, gazing with fixed and tearless eyes in the direction where their hopes had vanished. Feeling our utter inability to offer any alleviation to their misery, we hastened to quit this scene of woe and resumed our voyage." Several attempts have been made to introduce the rein-deer into the north of England.

Sir H. G. Liddell brought with him from Lapland, in 1786, five rein-deer, which he kept at his seat, Eslington Court, Northumberland; there was every prospect that he would succeed in breeding the race, but, unfortunately, two were killed, and the rest died of a disorder similar to the rot insheep; produced, doubtless, by the change from their humble diet to the rich pasture of England.

Mr. Bullock, who, it may be remembered, exhibited a Laplander's family some years since, brought two hundred rein-deer from Norway, but they all died. Some of these were turned out on the Pentland Hills, which was considered to be a peculiarly favourable spot. The failure, in these instances, is not to be attributed to the want of proper food, for the rein-deer moss grows plentifully in Scotland and the north of England. It also grows on Bagshot Heath. Proper attention has not been paid, perhaps, to the habits of the animal. Deer do not appear to thrive in any other country than the one in which nature has placed them. Some fine specimens of the American elk were turned into Windsor Park, a few years ago, but none of them lived a twelvemonth. The reindeer of the Zoological Gardens, which was added to this collection in 1828, appears to be an exception. She was a remarkably handsome specimen of the white variety, with fine branching horns; she lived and throve for two years. It seems strange that this creature, which had been confined to a small inclosure, should not have suffered so

much from the change of climate as others who had been allowed to range at will on the mountains of the north of England. The food was entirely dry provender. It is singular that the natives of North America have never made any attempt to domesticate this useful animal; they appear to have no idea of its value, except as an object for the chase, furnishing them with food and clothing; in many cases killing them for their tongues alone. It is in fact, in Lapland, that the rein-deer is properly appreciated. "To it, the Laplander is indebted for whatever he possesses of domestic comfort, or of European civilization; it is true that to obtain these advantages, the Laplander is compelled to adapt himself to the manners of his herds, to follow them in their summer migrations to the coasts or to the mountains, and to conduct them, on the return of winter, to the woods and plains of the interior. But in so doing, he relinquishes none of the enjoyments of life, for there is nothing in the desolate country, which he inhabits, to bind him to one spot more than another."*

* Gardens and Menagerie of the Zoological Society.