SCENES IN BUFFALO HUNTING. QT 
imated specimen of the monsters of the antediluvian 
world. 
Rising on his fore legs, he shook his mane and 
beard in defiance, and flashed from his eyes an uncon- 
querable determination terrible to behold. 
Gazing upwards, we beheld, fearfully caricatured, 
the shaggy trappings of the lion, and the wild fierceness 
of a perfect savage, the whole rising above us in huge 
unwieldy proportions. He made no demonstration of 
attack, his usual expression of defiance had changed into 
that of seeming regret and heartsick pain; his small 
bright eye roamed over the beautiful prairie, and 
watched the retreating herds of his fellows, as would 
an old patriarch when about to bid adieu to the world ; 
and as the dying creature gazed on, the tear struggled 
in his eye, rolled over the rough sunburnt hair, dashed 
like a bright jewel from his knotted beard, and fell to 
the ground. 
This exhibition of suffering nature cooled the warm 
blood of the hunt within me; the instinct of destruction 
was, for the time, overpowered by that of better feelings, 
and could we have restored to health the wounded ani- 
mal, it would have given us a thrill of real pleasure to 
have seen him again free, and bounding over the plain. 
Instead of this, we took from our belt a pistol, called 
upon mercy to sanction our deed, and sent the cold lead 
through the thoughtful eye into the brain: the body 
sank upon its knees, in ready acknowledgment of the 
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