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PASSIONAL ZOOLOGY. 
struggles against the destroying level of civilized customs, make head ere 
it be all too late for our native glories of the chase ; cure your own bacon 
as your own venison ; the woods are wide enough for both hog and deer, 
and the corn-crop is never scant ; but no more swine raised for sale to the 
distillery-pens. No more false labor of timb'er felling and corn planting for 
hogs and whiskey ? Let us have good game laws, protecting the beasts in 
their breeding seasons, and well supported by the spirit which you infuse 
throughout the country. Where the game is alas ! already destroyed, imi- 
tate the gentlemen of Europe, who reproduce the wild races in their parks, 
and join on our national banner the antlers of the Deer to the crest of the 
Eagle. — Tr. 
THE WOLF. 
My conscience has long comnaanded me to reinstate the wolf in 
public opinion. It is an arduous, immense, unpopular enterprise ! 
But what great truth, what new truth ever was popular ? The 
unity of God, the equality of men, the existence of the New- 
World, Passional Attraction, have not all these sublime discoveries 
availed to their authors respectively, hemlock, the gallows, the sar- 
casms or persecutions of their age ? Knowing the fate which the 
littleness and jealousy of men reserve to those who bring new doc- 
trines, I await without trembling, appealing in advance from the 
sentence of my epoch to the tribunal of posterity. 
The Wolf is the emblem of the Bandit of the lymbic societies 
(civilization, barbarism) ; it is the scourge of property. By these 
titles there is a natural antipathy between him and the dog, 
the police guard of man and friend of property. Now what is a 
bandit ? 
A bandit is often some richly-organized being whom his fellow- 
citizens have placed under the han of their society for some reason 
or other, or who has left it himself from hatred of the institutions 
of this society. 
The bandit, the brigand, is the Max of Schiller, the Lara of By- 
ron, the Hernani of Victor Hugo, the Paul Clifford of Bulwer, the 
Robin Hood of merry England ; he is the buccaneer of the Tor- 
toise islands, the Arab of the Atlas, the chief of the Spanish guerril- 
las, the contrabandist, the poacher. He may be some generous na- 
ture to whom the sight of iniquity is revolting — who stifles in the 
