the northern coast of America, also, down to Hudson's Bay, the present species is by no

means uncommon.

The Polar Bear is a strong and rapid swimmer, and dives with the utmost address; as a proof of which, it is stated by Cartwright, that he once witnessed a trial of skill between one of these animals and a salmon, which, notwithstanding the known velocity of the salmon's movements in the water, he succeeded in capturing. Indeed, if the Bear were not at home among the rough waves of the northern seas, he would be often much straitened for food, as his chief diet is obtained from the floating carcases of whales and fishes, to which he must often swim far away from the shore. He wages also a perpetual war upon the seal and walrus, watching for them as they appear at the openings among the ice: nor does he refuse whatever animal exuvia the waters cast upon the land, nor the few berries which the shrubs of these dreary regions afford.

From the best authorities, the males do not hybernate, as is the case with the others of this genus, but brave the severities of winter upon the ice by the open sea, wandering along the margin, and swimming from floe to floe in search of prey the females, however, do not make their appearance, or less frequently, till the approach of milder weather, when they sally forth from their retreat, accompanied by two cubs: at this period, gaunt, lean, and famished, they are especially formidable, hunger, and the presence of their young, adding to their ferocity.

The attachment of the females to their young is strong and enduring; they will fight till they die to defend them: they will swim after them when carried away, with the utmost perseverance; they will moan over them, and try to raise and support them when wounded, nor leave the spot upon their death till forced by hunger, or they themselves be attacked in their turn. In the tales of a voyager to the arctic regions, we are presented with several graphic narratives evincing the fondness of the Bear for her young, and the danger of rousing her vengeance by destroying it. Referring to the mate of the Dundee, who nearly lost his life in an encounter of this kind, the writer says:-" After killing the cub, he fired at her, (the mother,) and struck her on the jaw, which remained gaping as if dislocated, and believing her hors de combat, he got upon the floe (mass of floating ice) to take possession of her slain offspring. The she Bear, though she had fled, now returned, and rushing towards her enemy, threw him down, but was unable to mangle him, for her mouth was wide open, and she had lost the ability to close it, nevertheless she mounted upon his prostrate body, and trampled it severely before the crew of his boat could come to his rescue. When they did arrive, a sailor who brought a gun lost his presence of mind at the sight before him, and stood staring inactive; others more bold thrust the bear aside with lances, and the mate being freed from its weight arose, took the gun from its bearer, and shot away the unlucky lower jaw of the beast completely. She then fell a victim to the weapons of his men."

The maternal attachment of the Bear for her

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young is not, however, peculiar to this species; it is equally striking in all; and to this characteristic we find a beautiful allusion in Hosea xiii. 8: "I will meet them as a Bear bereaved of her whelps." In Samuel, we find also another similar allusion, which conjures up a strong and graphic picture: "For, said Hushai, thou knowest thy father and his men, that they be mighty men, and they be chafed in their minds as a Bear robbed of her whelps in the field," 2 Sam. xvii. 8. The Scriptures are ever true to themselves, no flaw can be detected; and even in these passing references to the manner of animals we not only see great force, beauty, and correctness, but an harmonious accordance dovetailing into the other portions, and stamping the whole with an irresistible air of genuineness and authenticity. The very style of the Scriptures may be offered as evidence in their favour.

Passing from the bears along the series of Plantigrade carnivora, as they approach a point on the eve of merging into that division termed Digitigrade, so as to constitute a sort of debateable ground, we meet with several genera highly interesting to the naturalist, as forming intermediate links between more conspicuous portions of the chains, and containing animals of no less interest to the general reader who loves to contemplate the First Great Cause of all, in the outgoings of his wisdom and power. From these examples we shall select a few of the most characteristic, commenting upon them in connexion with the particular genus to which they may belong. The first to which we turn is the RACOON.

The Racoon, with one or two allied species, is now separated from the bears, among which its station had been assigned by earlier writers, and forms the type of the new genus Procyon. The chief characters of the genus Procyon are as follow. The canine teeth are straight and compressed; the three last molares on each side are crowned with blunt tubercles; the toes are five, armed with sharp nails; the tail long. Although, while resting, the entire sole of the foot is applied to the ground, the heel is raised in walking, so that little more than the toes come in contact with the surface over which the animal passes, a peculiarity expressed by the word semiplantigrade.

The RACOON (Procyon lotor) (see Engraving, No. 12) is exclusively a native of America, being found from the borders of the Red River, north lat. 45°, down to Paraguay. Its habits are nocturnal; for the eyes, although the pupil is circular, are distressed by light. During the day, the Racoon, therefore, remains inactive, rolled up with the head between the hind legs, and sleeping away the time till the hour of darkness, when it begins to prey about with restless activity for food. Stealing to the river's brink, the edge of the swamp, or the sea-shore, (localities which this animal especially affects,) it seizes crabs or shell-fish, or such of the finny tribe as come within its reach, not neglecting worms, insects, roots, and the succulent parts of the sugar-cane. Its dexterity in opening oysters we have personally witnessed. The animal which we saw exhibit this feat first broke the hinge with his teeth, by

30

which means the shells were loosened; it then forced them apart with its fore-paws, dexterously hooking out the contents, which it seemed to relish exceedingly.

The Racoon climbs trees with great facility, and is one of those enemies against whom the birds have to guard, as it not only plunders their nests of eggs or young, but often surprises the parents while fostering their callow brood during the darkness of the night. If taken young, this animal is easily tamed, and when permitted the liberty of a room manifests an insatiable curiosity, examining every thing within its reach, and hunting into every corner and crevice with unremitting assiduity. Though not capable of using the fore-paws, like a monkey, (there being no opposing thumb or pliability of finger,) still it manages to grasp any object by compressing it between both together, and in this manner, sitting upon its haunches, it will take its food, which before eating it usually dips into water. Water, indeed, seems essentially necessary, if not to its existence, at least to its health and comfort; and its specific name, lotor, or washer, is taken from the circumstance just alluded to, in connexion with its predilection for this element. The fur of the Racoon is soft and valuable; the hairs are of two kinds, one forming a short woolly undercoat, the other long and silky, ringed with black and white; the general tone of colour thus produced is grey; the face is lighter, with a black band encircling the eyes; the tail is bushy, and ringed with black and grey alternately; the nose is long and pointed, extending beyond the jaws; the body fat and round. A more intimate account of its habits in a wild state is still a desideratum.

Allied, in many respects, to the racoon are those singular animals which, though not uncommon in our menageries, are yet little understood, namely, the Coatis, a tribe peculiar to the warmer regions of America, as Brazil, Guiana, Paraguay, etc. They form a genus under the name of Nasua, characterized, as is that of the racoon, by nocturnal habits, a semiplantigrade mode of progress, and a facility of climbing. The teeth and tail are also very similar. The nose is also elongated, but to an enormous extent, so as to form a prolongated snout, ending abruptly, and extremely flexible. Their body is, however, longer and more slender; their feet stronger, and well adapted for digging. Of the COATI, or COATIMONDI, two species are known: the BROWN, (Nasua fusca,) and the RED, (Nasua rufa,) (see Engraving, No. 13,) with several acknowledged varieties; some, indeed, have suspected this to be the case with the brown and red, as in habits, manners, and every particular, except colour, they precisely agree.

Of all the senses of this animal, that of smell seems to be the most highly developed. The Coati examines every thing with its long nose, which it turns about in all directions; and as the animal is extremely inquisitive, the powers of this organ are in perpetual requisition. In its wild state the Coati lives in small troops among the woods, where it climbs the trees with great address, and descends with the head foremost. Its food consists of small animals, birds and their

[CARNIVORA.

It is

eggs, reptiles, insects, and worms, which it searches for by digging with great avidity. The plantations of sugar-cane are said also to suffer from its fondness for the luscious juice. easily tamed, but is restless, irritable, and capricious, and consequently not to be touched without caution; its bite is very severe and dangerous. In size this animal is as large as a fox or racoon, although not so high, its length being two feet four or five inches. The tail is long and tapering; the ears small and round. Its voice, when the creature is irritated or alarmed, is a singularly shrill cry; at other times it is silent, or utters only a gentle hissing.

To this place in the scale, Cuvier and Lesson have assigned one of the most remarkable animals with which we are acquainted, the history of which at present is but imperfectly known. We allude to the KINKAJOU, the sole species as yet discovered of the genus Cercoleptes; the characters of which are these: incisor teeth in each

jaw six; canines, one on each side, followed by five grinders, the two first of which are pointed, the other three blunt and tuberculous; the tail long and prehensile, but covered with fur; the muzzle short; the tongue long, slender, and very extensible; toes five, claws strong and hooked; mode of progression semiplantigrade.

The KINKAJOU (Cercoleptes caudivolvolus) (see Engraving, No. 14) is a native of the warmer regions of South America, where it is known by various names among the inhabitants of different districts. Baron Humboldt informs us, that among the Musica Indians, in the Mesa of Guandiaz, it is called Cuchumbi; in the mission of Rio Negro, Manaviri; names preferable to that usually given, which is a word of uncertain etymology, and said to be one of the appellations of a very different animal, namely, the glutton of North America. However this may be, we suppose it must be now retained. The Kinkajou is evidently nocturnal in its habits, searching for food at night, and remaining torpid during the day, rolled up in some dark hole or crevice to avoid the light, which is borne with difficulty. Its eyes are dark, the pupils round, and contracted almost to a point under the influence of the sun; the ears are round; the fur thick, close, and of a pale yellowish white; the naked soles of the feet and paws flesh-coloured.

We learn from the observations of Baron Humboldt, that this animal is a great destroyer of the nests of wild bees, for the sake of obtaining the honey, of which it is very fond; hence the missionaries from Spain have given it the name of Honey-bear. Its usual food, however, appears to be small animals, birds, eggs, insects, and fruits. Its size is that of a cat, but its limbs are shorter, and much more thick and muscular. Our scanty knowledge of the native habits of this beautiful animal may perhaps, in some measure, be atoned for by the observations we have been enabled to make upon a living individual. During the day it usually reposed in a little inner den, but by no means constantly, as, especially in the afternoon, it came out from time to time, and readily engaged in play with those to whom it had been accustomed, pretending to bite, and twisting itself into a variety of antic positions.