The Sun.
London, England, 1832-11-02 00:00:00

curious :--

" A friend of mine has twice brought cats without tails
from the Isle of Man, where there is a considerable num-
ber, and they may he purchased for a trifle. They are
the most plentiful, I believe, in that part of the bland
called the Calf of Man. They are rather taller (if I may
be all,,wed the expression) than the common cat, but not
so broad and strong ; their colour is genet ally a lightish
grey. They resemble more the hare and rabbit, in their
movements, than the domestic cat ; which, perhaps, may
be owing to their hind legs being so much longer than
those of the common cat. I cannot speak to their quali-
ties as mousers ; one of those which I have seen had
four kittens (by a common cat), two of which had very
short thick tails (about two inches long). I saw them
almost every day, and paid particular attention to them.
The only work in which I have found any account of this
species (variety rather) is Le K'ux's Illustrations of
Natural History, vol. I. p. 356., in these words :
' There is also a hereditary variety of the cat in this
country without any visible tail. It is not uncommon in
Cornwall ; and Dr. Leach received one from the Isle of
Wight, which, however, could not be reconciled to its new
habitation.' The Isle of Wight,' I think, ought to l e
the ' Isle of Man.' I have conversed with a native of the
former island on the subject ; and he says he never saw or
heard of one there. Le Keux gives the following anec-
dote from Dr. Anderson's Recreations in Agriculture.
' A cat belonging to Dr. Coventry, the ingenious pro-
fessor of Agriculture in Edinburgh, which had no blemish
at its birth, but had lost its tail by accident when it was
young, bad many litters of kittens, and in every litt,-tt
there was one or more that wanted a tail.' I hope the
above will prove acceptable to some of your readers. I
remain, Sir, yours, &c.—illancuniettsis. Sept. 3, 1832.'

SPORTING -MAGAZINE, AND NEW
SPORTING MAGAZINE.
We hardly know how the conductors of the
above rival Magazines will approve of our plac-
ing them side by side, but in good truth it is
an arrangement which so suits our convenience,
having nothing to say of one which we have not
of the other, that we trust we shall be excused
for persevering in it as long as that is the case.
Indeed we do not see why we should even call
them rival Magazines, for we should imagine that
there are few sportsmen who would not be as
willing to take in both as one. To speak of
them together, then, the present numbers are
both good, and we shall show our impartiality
by giving an extract from each, only giving pre-
cedence to the great " original." A French
duck shooter in the Pyrenees unexpectedly falls
in with a bear :
" Just as the heads of three fine birds, in close contact,
had brought the gun half-way to his shoulder, a sudden
crackling of the dry hushes, together with a deep growl,
made him spring to his feet, and sent off the startled
ducks, now utterly unheeded by him. Within ten yards
stood a hear, one of the hugest of the huge black breed of
the Pyrenees, glaring on him with all the ferociousness of
hunger, and magnified by the snow to double his actual
size. B tptiste was a brave man ; he had seen fire on a
sharp day ; yet the blood ran back to his heart, and the
mist cane over his eyes. It was but for a moment : he
knew the strength and fierceness of his antagonist, and his
own inadt plate means of defence; but he knew also the
worse than hOpelesimess of flight, - and set himself for the
mortal struggle. • Motionless the animal stood before him;
but Baptiste, aware that instantly the rush would be made,
and that his only chance with the long unmanageable gun,
was an immediate shot,• fired. Ere the smoke cleared,
the bear, maddened by an ineffectual wound, bad sprung
on him with an hideous yell; the gun-stock shivered on
his head. Baptiste, though already within the fearful
hag, his back against a tree, bad with his lett arm griped
the throat, and forcing back the head,- was for a moment
untouched by the teeth. By Providential instinct he had
snatched one of his sabots from the ground,-and, with des-
',crate energy, be hailed blows and blows on the heal of

his adversary, which, cut as ;t was by the shot, streamed
thicker bloodltedvth the heavy-nailed wood. But the
unequal contest cad not long continue ; Baptiste's arm,
powerful though it was, grew weaker and weaker; his
sides were bruised and lacerated ; his breath became faint
and flurried ; dropping the sabot, he gdsped the throat
with both hands, but their force failed him ; his arms gave
gradually way, till the brute's muzzle touched and panted
on his cheek ; one more strnggle ...... they dropped un-
nerved ; he felt the gripe on his shoulder, and sank sense-
less to the ground." _ .

We feel bound to add " that all too late the
advantage came," for Bruin died in the moment of
victory. The following sketch of a gentleman well
known in the sporting world, is from the New
Sporting Magazine. It occurs in the article
entitled " Noctes Nimrodiante."

" My first acquaintance with Mr. Chute was by acci-
dent, for although I had heard of him and his hounds I
never crossed him in my path till I went from London, in
the spring of 1822, to look at the house I afterwards
lived in in Hampshire, and in returning from an inspec-
tion of it to a post-chaise that was waiting for me in a
lane, I saw a person coming tit-up•ing along on a little
brown hackney, in rather a shabby surtout, with saddle,
bridle, hat, and boots—all a dead match. Now, to tell
the real truth, when he approached me I took him for the
parish doctor; but the sight of his pig-tail, in addition to
a slight how that he honoured me with en passant,'
convinced me of the fact. Seeing him then open the gate
that led to Beaurepaire-house, I ventured to holloa him
back, when he instantly pulled up his horse. ' Pray,
Sir,' said I, ' can you give me any account of this house,
for there is no one here but a drunken keeper, who can
tell me any thing about it?' What, Sir,' said he,
have you a mind to take it?' I told him such was my
wish. Are you a sportsman ?' said be, looking at
my boots and breeches in which I chanced to be clad.
A bit of one,' was my reply. 'Then take it Sir,' said
he, emphatically ; you will be within half a mile of
the best pack of fox-hounds in England.' My God !'
said I, is it Mr. Ci.ute whom I have the honour of
addressing, and with whom I have taken this liberty ?'
4 WILLIAM CHUTE IS THE MAN,' he replied; lam
going to see two puppies that are at walk, but I will mrer•
take you directly, and you must call and see my hounds.'
On entering his kennel, a hound called Larkspur' first
attracted my notice, and putting my stick on his back I
observed that he was a clever hound. ' You are a sports-
man,' said he, his countenance brightening as he spoke ;
and now the man appears. ' I would not take five hun-
dred guineas for that hound. I've just been telling Mrs.
Chute, who is writing to Lady Spenser' (her sister, and a
curious messase, by-the-bye, for a lady to convey), to
say, that if they want the best blood in England, in Nor-
thamptonshire, they must send to my Larkspur.' In
three weeks after this time I became a neighbour to Mr.
Chute, but as hunting was concluded I saw nothing of his
hounds in the field till the summer was over, and I believe
that never passed too quickly for him. Nevertheless I saw
a good deal of him, and he certainly was in his way a very
singular character—something approaching Sir Roger de
Coverley, but without his gravity. He had, however,
many of the good qualities of the worthy knight—he was
a good landlord and a good master. He conversed with
his tenants as if they were his equals, and treated his ser-
vants as if they were his friends; indeed, the easy, good-
humoured, but rather unfashionable, manner in which he
generally spoke to them, gave somewhat a license to their
tongues. He told me that one day, as he was sheltering
from a
some
under one side of a thick hedge on his farm,
and some of his labourers were doing the same thing on the
other, he overheard a conversation in which the names of
his butler, his bailiff, his huntsman, and himself, were
every now and then introduced. "fhere was Mr. Chap-
man,' said he, my bailiff; there was Mr. Woods, my
butler ; there was Mr. Nixon, my huntsman ; but when
my name was introduced, I was Old Billy' ! "