ad, and endeavored to drag him through;
the man's shrieks awakened the whole neighborhood, and assistance came,
but though the wolf was struck at by many, he escaped. Wolves have even
been known to attack sentries when single, as in the last campaign of
the French armies in the vicinity of Vienna, when several of the
videttes were carried off by them. During the retreat of Napoleon's army
from Russia, wolves of the Siberian race followed the troops to the
borders of the Rhine; specimens of these wolves shot in the vicinity,
and easily distinguishable from the native breed, are still preserved in
the museums of Neuwied, Frankfort, and Cassel.

Captain Lyon[4] relates the following singular instance of the cunning
of a wolf which had been caught in a trap, and, being to all appearance
dead, was dragged on board ship: "The eyes, however, were observed to
wink whenever an object was placed near them, some precautions were,
therefore, considered necessary, and the legs being tied the animal was
hoisted up with his head downward. He then, to our surprise, made a
vigorous spring at those near him, and afterward repeatedly turned
himself upward so as to reach the rope by which he was suspended,
endeavoring to gnaw it asunder, and making angry snaps at the persons
who prevented him. Several heavy blows were struck on the back of his
neck, and a bayonet was thrust through him, yet above a quarter of an
hour elapsed before he died."

Hearne, in his journey to the Northern Ocean, says, that the wolves
always burrow under ground at the breeding season, and though it is
natural to suppose them very fierce at those times, yet he has
frequently seen the Indians go to their dens, take out the cubs and play
with them. These they never hurt, and always scrupulously put them in
the den again, although they occasionally painted their faces with
vermilion and red ochre, in strange and grotesque patterns.

This statement is supported by incidents which have occurred in this
metropolis; there was a bitch wolf in the Tower Menagerie, which, though
excessively fond of her cubs, suffered the keepers to handle them, and
even remove them from the den, without evincing the slightest symptom
either of anger or alarm; and a still more remarkable instance is
related from observation, by Mr. Bell: "There was a wolf at the
Zoological Gardens (says that able naturalist) which would always come
to the front bars of the den as soon as I or any other perso