A curious experiment, at Carnot, in the Congo, is described in the journal _Le Chasseur Français_ in the shape of the collection and raising of the animals which the natives bring in from the bush. Large numbers have been taken in. Some of the animals die, some escape. Among those that have stayed are two wild hogs, which roam at liberty, eat from the hand, and follow like dogs. There are a jackal, mangoustes, small rodents, a company of monkeys, and a young tiger cat, "which is the lawgiver to the others." None of the animals is confined, except that the jackal is tied, though he follows; but it has been necessary to separate the guinea-pigs from the rest. A large monkey has assumed the office of shepherd's dog, and takes care of the sheep. There are also dogs--"good company, but not of much value"--eight horses, with a colt that will eat at the table if allowed to; forty horned cattle, which are multiplying; and asses, which are also increasing. HAWK LURES. BY W. E. CRAM. It is a pretty well known fact among hunters and students of Nature generally that most flesh-eating animals, whether in fur or feathers, can be more readily called by imitating the squeaking of mice than in any other way, and proves conclusively enough that these creatures depend largely on the sense of hearing in their struggle for a livelihood. My first practical illustration of this fact occurred so long ago that it seems almost like ancient history. For some reason or other one summer's vacation began some six hours earlier than was expected, and although apparently insignificant enough when compared with the entire three months that were to follow, that extra half holiday was probably valued out of all due proportion by the pupils, owing to its unexpectedness, and for that reason, perhaps, more than any other, is still recalled by one at least as distinctly as ever. One of the boys had a contrivance known as a bird-call--a simple instrument of wood and some soft metal--that, on being turned, produced noises that bore not the slightest resemblance to the cries of any bird, but were not entirely unlike the squeaking of a mouse in distress. Some of us were more or less skeptical as to its powers of attracting birds, and decided to put it to the test. So we loafed about under the apple trees working the thing for all it was worth, but no birds came about us, and the bird-call was in danger of being thrown away in disgrace, when a small brown beast appeared from under a pile of boards and came running toward us, till suddenly scenting danger it disappeared. There was some discussion at the time whether it was a rat, chipmunk, or red squirrel; none had seen it very clearly or could give any very definite description of it, but in all probability it was a weasel attracted by what it supposed to be the voice of its accustomed prey.