672 Birds. 



of our readers. It abounds in description of the most graphic kind, 

 but treats principally of matters which have slender connexion with 

 Natural History. We select a passage on pig-killing. 



" As you enter Rome at the Porta del Popolo a little on your right, is the great 

 slaughter-house, with a fine stream of water running through it. It is probably infe- 

 rior to none in Italy for an extensive plan, and for judicious arrangements. Here 

 some seven or eight hundred pigs are killed on every Friday during the winter season. 

 Nothing can exceed the dexterity with which they are despatched. About thirty of 

 these large and fat black pigs are driven into a commodious pen, followed by three or 

 four men, each with a sharp skewer in his hand, bent at one end, in order that it may 

 be used with advantage. On entering the pen these performers, who put you vastly 

 in mind of assassins, make a rush at the hogs, each seizing one by the leg, amid a ge- 

 neral yell of horror on the part of the victims. Whilst the hog and the man are strug- 

 gling on the ground, the latter with the rapidity of thought, pushes his skewer betwixt 

 the fore leg and the body, quite into the heart, and there gives it a turn or two. The 

 pig can rise no more, but screams for a minute or so, and then expires. This process 

 is continued till they are all despatched, the brutes sometimes rolling over the butch- 

 ers, and sometimes the butchers over the brutes, with a yelling enough to stun one's 

 ears. In the mean time the screams become fainter and fainter, and then all is silence 

 on the death of the last pig. A cart is in attendance; the carcasses are lifted into it, 

 and it proceeds through the street, leaving one or more dead hogs at the doors of the 

 different pork shops. No blood appears outwardly, nor is the internal hemorrhage pre- 

 judicial to the meat, for Rome cannot be surpassed in the flavour of her bacon, or in 

 the soundness of her hams." — p. lxix. 



The following interview with Italian buffaloes is highly character- 

 istic of the writer. 



" As we were resting our horses at a little inn on the side of the road, I had a fine 

 opportunity of getting close to a very large herd of Italian buffaloes. These wild- 

 looking animals have got a bad name for supposed ferocity, and when I expressed my 

 determination to approach them, I was warned by the Italians not to do so, as the buf- 

 faloes were wicked brutes, and would gore me to death. Having singled out a tree or 

 two of easy ascent where the herd was grazing, I advanced close up to it, calculating 

 that one or other of the trees would be a protection to me, in case the brutes should 

 prove unruly. They all ceased eating, and stared at me as though they had never 

 seen a man before. Upon this, I immediately threw my body, arms, and legs, into all 

 kinds of antic movements, grumbling loudly at the same time ; and the whole herd, 

 bulls, cows, and calves, took off, as fast as ever they could pelt, leaving me to return 

 sound and whole to the inn, with a hearty laugh against the Italians." — p. lxxvi. 



The only remaining passage selected from the Autobiography, is 

 reprinted for two reasons : the first of these is that it exhibits a de- 

 gree of candour which, in our opinion, is the great and unerring test 

 of a true lover of Natural History ; and the second is, that we may 

 show our readers the estimation in which l The Zoologist ' is held by 

 one whose good word is of no little value. 



