250 
FANCIERS’ JOURNAL AND POULTRY EXCHANGE. 

everywhere, hopping about on the table and drinking from 
the bath ; crows perched on the window sill, and more crows 
about to come, and each crow doing all in his power to make 
the greatest possible noise. The faithful Pandoo would take 
all this in at a glance; then would ensue a helter-skelter re- 
treat, and the windows darkened by the black wings of the 
flying crows; then silence for a moment, only broken by 
some apologetic remark from Pandoo. 
When at length happy days of convalescence came round, 
and I was able to get up, and even eat my meals at the table, 
I found my friends, the crows, a little more civil and re- 
spectful. The thought occurred to me to make friends with 
them ; I consequently began a regular system of feeding them 
after every meal time. One old crow I caught and chained 
to a chair with a fiddle string. He was a funny old fellow, 
with one club foot. He never refused his food from the very 
day of his captivity, and I soon taught him a few tricks. 
One was to lie on his back, when so placed, fer any length 
of time, till set on his legs again. This was called turning 
the turtle. But, one day, this bird of freedom hopped away, 
fiddle string and all, and a whole fortnight elapsed before I 
saw him again. I was just beginning to put faith in a be- 
lief common in India—namely, that a crow, or any other 
bird that has been for any time living with human beings, 
is put to instant death the moment he returns to the bosom 
of his family—when one day, while engaged breakfasting 
some forty crows, my club-footed pet reappeared and actually 
picked the bit from my hand, and ever after, until I left, he 
came regularly thrice a day to be fed. The other crows 
came with surprising exactness at meal times; first one 
would alight on the shutter outside the window and peep in, 
as if to ascertain how nearly done I happened to be, then fly 
away for five or ten minutes, when he would return and have 
another keek. As soon, however, as I approached the win- 
dow and raised my arms I was saluted with a chorus of cawing 
from the banyan tree; then down they swooped in dozens, 
and it was no very easy task to fill so many mouths, although 
the loaves were government ones, 
These pets had a deadly enemy in a brown raven—the 
bramla-kite. Swifter than arrow from bow he descended, 
describing the arc of a great circle, and carrying off in his 
flight the largest lump of bread he could spy. He, for one, 
never stopped to bless the hand of the giver; but the crows, 
I know, were not ungrateful. Club-foot used to perch be- 
side me on a chair and pick his morsels from the floor, al- 
ways premising that two windows at least must be open. 
As to the others, their persecutions ended; they never ap- 
peared except when called upon. The last act of their 
aggression was to dovour a very fine specimen of praying 
mantis I had confined in a quinine bottle. The first day the 
paper cover had been torn off, and the mantis had only es- 
caped by keeping close at the bottom. Next day the cover 
was again broken and the bottle itself capsized; the poor 
mantis had prayed in vain for once. Club-foot, I think, 
must have stopped all day in the banyan tree, for I never 
went to the window to call him without his appearing at once 
with a joyful caw. This feat I used often to exhibit to my 
shipmates who used to visit me during my illness.—Chambers’ 
Journal. 

pa@g> On Tuesday last, Edward Ashbridge, of Hast Goshen, 
slaughtered his mammoth hog which had excited consider- 
able interest in the neighborhood as to its weight. When 
dressed, it weighed 1026 pounds. 


THE SKYE TERRIER. 
Sir: Before the type of Skye terrier is finally settled, I 
would fain, as an old fancier, say a word or two as to what 
the Skye terrier was in the days when I knew Skye. 
It is thirty years ago and more, and all my old friends 
are, I believe, gone long ago; but I speak of the dogs of 
Mackinnon, of Corrychattachan; of Macleod, of Drynach ; 
of Mackinnon, of Kilbride; of Macleod, of Orbost ; of Mar- 
tin, of Duntulm (pure white) ; of Macdonald, of Monkstadt; _ 
all of whom had numbers of the dog generally termed the 
Skye terrier. 
The sport we used them for was otter hunting, sending 
four or five of them into the cairns by the lock side to start 
the otter, at which we might get a shot as he bolted to the 
water. They were the gamest little creatures. I have 
known one bitch stay a whole night in a cairn rather than 
leave an otter she could not reach—very bold. Any dog 
wincing at the threat of a stone was believed to have a colley 
strain, 
The outline of figure was that of the weasel: long back, 
head set on neck at right angles, like the figure of ‘‘ Charlie”’ 
(Field, Feb. 14), but in a waving line like a ferret’s; brain 
pan large, muzzle long and pointed, nose fine and pointed 
and black, as also the palate; the eye, especially the bitch’s, 
large, expressive, like a gazelle’s; the head hair silky and 
long; the ear soft as a mouse’s, not tufted, the best pricked, 
but often drooping, or one erect, the other not. The back 
long and wavy; the legs short and bandied, but not turnspit; 
the foot clean, small as a fox’s, and not hairy (dew claws 
always twisted off); the tail, as nearly as possible straight, 
in a line with the back, not too long and feathered. The 
hair not cumbrously long, nearly quite straight, often, in- 
deed generally, a little waved; not too hard, but never flabby, 
sometimes very short, but not curly. Any color so that it 
was all one, and the nose black: the slate-blue gray most 
prized. 
There is a very good picture of one such as was considered 
perfection in those days in her majesty’s ‘Islay,’ by Land- 
seer, sitting up to beg of a macaw on a perch. 
Some of the creatures 1 have seen at English shows, with 
snub noses, large hairy paws, woolly coats and curly tails are 
‘‘Skyes” only in an entirely conventional and anglican 
sense.—ield. 
(i 
fas Loss oF Sone IN A CANARY WHILE MoULTING.— 
The loss of song is one of the usual accompaniments of 
moulting ; even though the moulting may be complete, the 
bird will not, probably, break into full song this side of 
Christmas. He will be none the worse for a good rest. The 
time occupied in moulting varies from three or four weeks 
to months. Birds which are apparently fully moulted will, 
upon examination, frequently show a great number of half- 
developed feathers.—W. A. BLAKsTON, in Journal of Hor- _ 
ticulture. 

POULTRY SHOWS FOR 1874 & 1875. 
Bucks Co. Poultry Association. 
ber 8, 9, 10, and 11. 
town, Pa. 
Maine Poultry Association. Portland, January 12, 18, 14, 
and 15, Fred. Fox, Secretary, Portland, Maine. 
Connecticut State Poultry Society. Hartford, Conn., De- 
cember 15, 16, 17, and 18. Dr. Geo. L. Parmele, Sec’y. 
Doylestown, Pa., Decem- 
Theo. P. Harvey, Secretary, Doyles- 
ees ee, 
naga 
ae 
