It is not generally known, we believe, that a wound from a stag's antlers, however slight--the merest scratch or abrasion of the skin, if only blood is drawn--is exceedingly dangerous. A short time ago [December 1874], on ascending from the cabin of a steamer, we went forward in order to enjoy an uninterrupted smoke in the fresh breeze that swept across the vessel, when we noticed a fine-looking young man, closely wrapped up in cape and plaid seated, in the shelter of the capstan, as if the breeze, to him at least, was, if anything, too brisk and keen. Glancing at him once and again, we observed that he was pale and sickly looking; and concluding from his dress and caste of features that he must be a Highlander, we went over to him and addressed him in Gaelic. It turned out that although we did not know him, he knew something of us, and we were soon on friendly terms. He told us he was going to Glasgow to consult the doctors about a stag's horn wound in the thigh that was daily, in spite of all the salves, ointments, and healing applications that he and all the "wise" people of his glen could think of, getting worse instead of better. About two months ago he was helping to take a stag off a hill pony's back, when, by some accident, the sharp point of one of the tines penetrated the thigh for a short distance, and then, by the force of the falling weight of the head, rasped downwards for about an inch and a half, leaving an ugly, ragged gash, though of no great depth. He thought but little of it, he told us, having often had more serious wounds before, though not from a stag's horn, that gave hardly any trouble, and soon healed of themselves--of the first intention, as the surgeons have it. How it may fare with him among the Glasgow doctors we do not know: well, poor fellow, we sincerely hope, though we shouldn't wonder if the wound continued to trouble him all his life long. The subject of stag-horn wounds having thus been brought before us in a way that could not fail to interest us, we took the matter to avizandum, as the sheriffs say; and, in dearth of anything better at this dull season, we present our readers with the result of our inquiries in every direction whence there was the least chance of enlightenment. Dogs wounded by stags' horns usually die from mortification or gangrene of the wound; and even if the wound heals, and they recover, it is only in an unsatisfactory sort of way, for they are almost always afterwards paralytic in the wounded limb, or they are epileptic. An old forester, who knows more about deer and deerhounds than anybody else we ever met, tells us that in very few instances has he ever known a dog that has actually bled at the touch of a stag's horn, recover in such wise as to be fairly serviceable again. With the least drop of blood in such cases, they seem to lose all their courage. Another man, a shepherd near us, says that a very fine collie dog of his was once severely wounded by a stag in