THE RACCOON. 03 



mother -was flying rouiul his head. My 'coon 

 liked what was good — what a hruto ! Once I saw 

 him curled up on the hank of a lake ; a flock of 

 wild ducks came hy, and in a moment, my 'coon 

 gave a leap, and he had fast one of the fattest of the 

 flock. The only fault I had to find with my 'coon 

 was, that he hadn't a proper respect for my poultry- 

 yard ; hut even there, it was only the eggs that he eat. 

 Besides, he was • fed upon Indian corn boiled in 

 water, into which I sometimes threw a spoonful of 

 milk, hy way of treat. Ha ! the poor brute was 

 killed by eatin', one mornin' : he ate a whole hare 

 (sldn, flesli, and bone), just as if he had been 

 a boa-constrictor." Here poor Tom shed a tear of 

 regret; but immediately his mouth opened v/ith 

 the loud " ya ! ya! ya ! " followed by two "pshew! 

 pshew ! " which is stereotyped as the cachiuatory 

 symptom of the Laughing Nigger. 



I will finish this chapter (which is already too 

 long for the patience of my readers) with three 

 sporting adventui'es with raccoons, which I happened 

 to witness. One morning, I was shooting in the 

 neighbourhood of Charleston, in the plantations of 

 my friend Mr. Elliot. Vie had a brace of dogs 

 with us — Rover and Black — and the}' put up a 

 raccoon, which took refuge in a tree that grew up 

 against steep rocks, a kind of natural wall, about six- 

 teen yards in height. Caught in a trap, from which 

 escape seemed impossible, the raccoon determined to 



