“The Arctic Fox is an extremely cleanly animal, being very careful not to dirt those places in which he eats or sleeps. No unpleasant smell is to be perceived, even in a male, which is a remarkable circumstance. To come unawares on one of these creatures is, in my opinion, impossible; for even when in an apparently sound sleep, they open their eyes at the slightest noise which is made near them, although they pay no attention to sounds when at a short distance. The general time of rest is during the daylight, in which they appear listless and inactive; but the night no sooner sets in than all their faculties are awakened: they commence their gambols, and continue in unceasing and rapid motion until the morning. While hunting for food, they are mute, but when in captivity or irritated, they utter a short growl, like that of a young puppy. It is a singular fact that their bark is so undulated as to give an idea that the animal is at a distance, although at the very moment he lies at your feet. Although the rage of a newly-caught Fox is quite ungovernable, yet it very rarely happened that on two being put together they quarrelled. A confinement of a few hours often sufficed to quiet these creatures; and some instances occurred of their being perfectly tame, although timid, from the first moment of their captivity. On the other hand, there were some which, after months of coaxing, never became more tractable. These, we supposed, were old ones. “Their first impulse on receiving food is to hide it as soon as possible, even though suffering from hunger, and having no fellow-prisoners of whose honesty they are doubtful. In this case, snow is of great assistance, as being easily piled over their stores, and then forcibly pressed down by the nose. I frequently observed my Dog-Fox, when no snow was attainable, gather his chain into his mouth, and in that manner carefully coil it so as to hide the meat. On moving away, satisfied with his operations, he of course had drawn it after him again, and sometimes with great patience repeated his labours five or six times, until in a passion he has been constrained to eat his food without its having been rendered luscious by previous concealment. Snow is the substitute for water to these creatures, and on a large lump being given to them, they break it in pieces with their feet, and roll on it with great delight. When the snow was slightly scattered on the decks, they did not lick it up, as Dogs are accustomed to do, but by repeatedly pressing with their nose collected small lumps at its extremity, and then drew it into the mouth with the assistance of the tongue.” In another passage, Captain Lyon, alluding to the above-mentioned Dog-Fox, says, “He was small and not perfectly white; but his tameness was so remarkable, that I could not afford to kill him, but confined him on deck in a small hutch with a scope of chain. The little animal astonished us very much by his extraordinary