The cuba I suppose to be peculiar to New-England. The male is of the size of a large cat; has four long tushes sharp as a razor; he is very active in defending himself, and, if he has the first blow, will spoil a dog before he yields. His lady is peaceable and harmless, and depends for protection on her spouse, and, as he has more courage than prudence, always attends him to moderate his temper. She sees danger, and he fears it not. She chatters at him while he is preparing for battle, and, if she thinks the danger is too great, she runs to him and clings about his neck, screaming her extreme distress; his wrath abates, and by her advice they fly to their caves. In like manner, when he is chained, and irritated into the greatest rage by an impertinent dog, his lady, who is never chained, will fly about his neck and kiss him, and in half a minute restore him to calmness. He is very tender of his family, and never forsakes them till death dissolves their union. What further shows the magnanimity of this little animal, he never manifests the least anger towards his lady, though I have often seen her extremely loquacious, and, as I guessed, impertinent to him. How happy would the rational part of the creation become if they would follow the example of these irrational beasts! I the more readily suppose the cuba to be peculiar to New-England, not only from my never having yet seen the creature described, but also on account of its perverse observance of carnival and neglect of _carême_.