I once had seventeen deer hanging up in my barn at one time—the produce of three days’ sport, out of which I had the good fortune to kill seven. Parties are now made yearly every October to Stony Lake, Deer Bay, or the River Trent. I do not know anything more pleasant than these excursions, especially if you have agreeable companions, a warm camp, and plenty to eat and drink. Indeed, poor hunters must they be who cannot furnish their camp-larder with wild-ducks and venison. This is one of the great charms of a Canadian life, particularly to young sportsmen from the mother-country, who require here neither license nor qualification to enable them to follow their game; but may rove about in chase of deer, or other game, at will. The greatest enemy the deer has to contend with is the wolf. In the spring of the year, when the snow is in the woods, and a crust is formed on the surface, the deer are unable to travel any distance, the snow not being sufficiently hard to bear their weight. Consequently, great numbers of them are destroyed by their more nimble adversaries, who from their lighter make and rounder-shaped feet, are able to run on the top of the crust, which gives the deer but little chance of escape. The wolves commonly hunt in packs, and generally at night. The deer, when pursued, always make straight for the water, which, if they succeed in reaching it, saves them for that time. When the wolves reach the shore and find their prey gone, they utter the most diabolical yells. One night I was awakened by a pack of these rascals, who were in chase of a deer. They ran through my wood-yard within sixty feet of the house in full chorus. I think I never heard in the stillness of the night a more wild and unearthly din. For some years, till the country became more settled, I was obliged to shut up my sheep at night for fear of these prowling wretches. The first flock I ever had were all killed by these thieves. One night I was awakened by my dog barking furiously, and from the manner in which he kept rushing against the door I was sure some wild animals were about the premises. At first I thought it was useless to get up; for the night was dark, and I knew the sheep were housed. However, the increased fury of my dog Grouse, who seemed intent on getting into the house, as if he were frightened, obliged me to dress and turn out. On my opening the door, Grouse rushed in looking dreadfully scared, so with a lantern in one hand and a gun in the other, I marched towards the sheep-pen, the door of which not having been securely fastened by my lad, I found open, and six sheep out, and for these I now commenced a cautious search.