Glenarkaig, on Lochiel's estate, and that although the wound healed satisfactorily enough, and to the eye of an ordinary observer there was nothing the matter with the dog, it was, in fact, ever afterwards perfectly useless. "Chaidh e gòrach, le'r cead." A good dog before, "he became perfectly stupid, sir!" said the man. The above-mentioned forester says that the poisonous character of stag-horn wounds is well known to every one in the least acquainted with deer-stalking, as the sport was followed in the good old ante-breech-loading rifle days, when explosive bullets were yet unknown; and that rough contact with the tines of the animal, whether living or dead, was, in his younger days, avoided as one would avoid the tooth of a rabid dog or a viper's fang. A stag antler's wound, he avers, is dangerous at all times, but most so in the end of autumn--the rutting season--or, as he put it, "an àm dhaibh 'bhi dol 'san damhair," when they take to their "wallowing pools." Curiously enough, and by the merest accident, we have fallen in with the following proverbial distich from an old volume on Venerie, or Hunting of the Buck, published in London in 1622:-- "If thou art hurt by boar's tooth, the leech thy life may save; If thou art hurt by buck's horn, 'twill bring thee to thy grave." So that the venom of a stag's horn wound seems to have been quite as well known two hundred years ago as it is now; better, indeed, for those who followed the chase in the olden time were more liable to such hurts than is possible in the case of the modern deer-stalker, when the aid of dogs and the "gillie's" knife to give the coup de grace to the "stag at bay," are matters of comparatively little moment. It was a much more serious and risky affair in the days of the old "flint"-bearing musket. There was a paragraph a short time ago about a serious attack by a stag on some men in the island of Raasay. It would be interesting to know whether blood was drawn on the occasion, and if so, how the wounds have healed.