84 THE LAST DAY OF THE SEASON. 



Bengallee, on the 21st, instead of over the 

 mountain, as we had intended. Wilson and 

 his companion had two or three good shots 

 at tahir, but my Captain and I saw nothing 

 all day. One fine morning, out of three 

 thick misty days, enabled me to get a good 

 shot or two, and kill a tahir, which was no 

 sooner done, than the rain and hail beat 

 us home. 



September, 25th. — My last day. Went 

 out with Wilson, had a long walk and found 

 no tahir, but killed a gooral and a musk- 

 deer. Wilson's account of the latter animal 

 is most interesting, and being the result of 

 many years close observation, is of consider- 

 able interest, as a contribution to the natural 

 history of an animal, which, little known 

 itself, produces so valuable an article as 

 musk. 



This little persecuted animal would 

 probably have been left undisturbed to pass 

 a life of peace and quietness in its native 

 forests, but for the celebrated perfume with 

 which nature has provided it. Its skin being 



