some safe place, and patiently
wait for her leg to heal. I have observed in many of the more refined
animals this sort of shyness, and reluctance to give trouble, which
excite our admiration when noticed in mankind.

The deer is called a timid animal, and taunted with possessing courage
only when he is "at bay"; the stag will fight when he can no longer
flee; and the doe will defend her young in the face of murderous
enemies. The deer gets little credit for this eleventh-hour bravery. But
I think that in any truly Christian condition of society the deer would
not be conspicuous for cowardice. I suppose that if the American girl,
even as she is described in foreign romances, were pursued by bull-dogs,
and fired at from behind fences every time she ventured outdoors, she
would become timid, and reluctant to go abroad. When that golden era
comes which the poets think is behind us, and the prophets declare is
about to be ushered in by the opening of the "vials," and the killing of
everybody who does not believe as those nations believe which have
the most cannon; when we all live in real concord,--perhaps the
gentle-hearted deer will be respected, and will find that men are not
more savage to the weak than are the cougars and panthers. If the little
spotted fawn can think, it must seem to her a queer world in which the
advent of innocence is hailed by the baying of fierce hounds and the
"ping" of the rifle.

Hunting the deer in the Adirondacks is conducted in the most manly
fashion. There are several methods, and in none of them is a fair chance
to the deer considered. A favorite method with the natives is practiced
in winter, and is called by them "still hunting." My idea of still
hunting is for one man to go alone into the forest, look about for a
deer, put his wits fairly against the wits of the keen-scented animal,
and kill his deer, or get lost in the attempt. There seems to be a sort
of fairness about this. It is private assassination, tempered with a
little uncertainty about finding your man. The still hunting of the
natives has all the romance and danger attending the slaughter of sheep
in an abattoir. As the snow gets deep, many deer congregate in the
depths of the forest, and keep a place trodden down, which grows larger
as they tramp down the snow in search of food. In time this refuge
becomes a sort of "yard," surrounded by unbroken snow-banks. The hunters
then make their way to this retreat on snowshoes, and