sight. He travels at a swift trot, with ears laid back, head and neck bent down, and nose close to the ground, almost between his fore legs, in which attitude he fills his mates with terror. With much swishing of their tails and other signs of fear (each one closely accompanied by her foal, who keeps alongside its dam) they all start away in a mad gallop, urged forward by their driver, who is then galloping from side to side on their outskirts, threatening the laggards and stragglers of the mob.

A peculiar habit of the horse—evidently a custom inherited from a far-away ancestor—is that when he leaves his mares to make an excursion round about in order to find other mares to add to his mob he will establish large heaps of his droppings (dung) at certain places, so that any person seeing these heaps would at once know that a stallion was running free at that place. This remarkable instinct or sexual custom, like similar customs amongst other animals, is to our ideas entirely useless, but they may at one time have served some useful end—for instance, I have noticed that a stallion living at a distance would never extend his beat within the boundaries occupied by the other, possibly being in a measure warned by these heaps of ordure.

The exactitude with which the animal would measure his distance when making a deposit was remarkable. On first coming up he would for some time smell the heap, as if obtaining certain knowledge of those preceding him; then he would step across the required distance and leave his deposit thereon with the greatest exactitude. This was evidently done with a special purpose, and was at times varied by staling on the heap, the horse never requiring to look around to calculate the position. This anecdote to some may seem out of place and scarcely worthy of mention, but I venture to assume that in the study of nature all such are worthy of record.

I once tethered a quiet mare overnight, and the next morning, being young and active, I coiled the rope and jumped on the mare barebacked and rode about a mile, to where our riding-horses were feeding, for the purpose of driving them in and catching those required for the work in hand. To my surprise, the old mare I rode became quite unmanageable, and carried me forward at her best speed, keeping well in the centre of the scurrying mob. The land in those parts at that time had a great deal of spear-grass and the prickly shrub called “wild Irishman” spread about, and this, added to the fact that the mare only had a rope around her neck, increased my difficulty in keeping a seat on my hurrying steed. During this exciting gallop I became awarer of the fact that my favourite riding-horse (Ostrich) was closely attended by a small foal, a circumstance, which, so far as my

experience tended, should have been altogether an impossibility. When we arrived at the house (we then had no stockyard, but kept a small slab of wood for each horse, upon which on like occasions a small sprinkling of salt was placed to encourage their homing instincts, for this situation was ninety miles inland) I examined the new foal, and it gradually dawned on me that my mount (Creamy) was its mother, which accounted for her wild excitement during my ride. The remarkable fact of this anecdote was that the gelding and the foal had established a strong bond of friendship, and were inseparable. Ostrich bit and kicked at the other horses, and would not allow the mother to claim her foal. Ultimately I took Ostrich for a two days' ride, and left the foal, expecting it to starve to death, for it showed great fear of its own mother, but when I returned the foal was well, and had accepted the attentions of its anxious parent.

About the year 1860 I rode some distance for flour, and I took a second mare and a packsaddle with me. The following day, when returning with 1 cwt. of flour on either side of the pack-horse, I was met by a three-year-old stallion, who took up a position in front of my mares, with head down and ears laid back, and I was unable to urge them forward. I then dismounted and collected some stones, and, by a few skilful shots, succeeded in driving the animal behind me; but unfortunately the two mares began at the same time to move homeward, and the horse, noticing this, galloped round me and took possession. I had the satisfaction of seeing my mares and the then greatly valued flour disappear at a gallop, leaving me to follow on foot in a dejected and sorrowful state of mind.

As most people are aware, the horse will show fear or surprise by trotting around with a high pounding action, with head held high, and neck arched, and mane flowing in the breeze, occasionally stopping and intently gazing directly towards the object of anxiety, and snorting or loudly blowing through his nostrils. Our horses greatly feared even the smell of three she asses which were owned by a neighbour; so much so that without the donkeys being in sight it was difficult to ride them close to this person's abode, the small shrubs and hedge being evidently considered lurking-places for these dread animals. One time during my absence this neighbour thought it a favourable opportunity to secretly obtain the services of my horse Jersey to raise mules. He managed to get Jersey into the same stockyard with the donkeys, when he broke away, urged by intense fear, and, jumping the 7 ft. fence, took across country as hard as he could lay legs to the ground. This came to my knowledge years after the occurrence of the episode.

In the old days, when the whole country was unfenced, except in the vicinity of a town, horses frequently showed great homing instinct, and, when ridden long distances round about, would sometimes escape homeward in the night-time, always going in a direct line—I refer to the extensive Canterbury Plain, where the only obstacles were the swift-running rivers.

I remember starting from Christchurch in 1856, driving a two-horse dray (heavily laden), crossing the Waimakariri River, and making for the Oxford district. In the evening, when actually within sight of my destination, a thick mist came on, and I was only able to see ahead the length of my team. After proceeding some distance I became doubtful as to my position, the more so on account of my passing many toi-toi bushes—a tall grass (Arundo conspicua) resembling the pampas grass. Feeling convinced that something was wrong, on my next arriving at a toi-toi I broke down several of its tall seed-heads and drove on, and coming once more to a toi-toi bush and examining it in the dim light of departing day I again beheld the broken seed-stalks. On starting again the same thing took place. Finding from this that I was moving in a circle, I gave a “coo-ee,” and to my delight received an immediate answer, and at once started towards the sound, but I had not gone far before the call was repeated immediately behind me. This same thing occurred several times, and I determined to remain stationary, replying occasionally. Presently up came my elder brother (whom two days before I had left in Christchurch) on horseback. He said,” Where is the house, and what are you doing here?” when a call was heard, and my younger brother joined us, he having left the house to come to the rescue. My younger brother persisted that we were on the wrong side of the river-course (then a dry bed of shingle), but this I denied, as it was impossible to drive a dray over shingle without being aware of the fact. It was ultimately decided to take off the leading cart-mare, whose foal was following, and presumably occupying her attention, and trust to the shafter drawing the load in a homeward direction, although the darkness of night was now added to the confusing mist. This proved a success, and we soon arrived at home.

One day when herding sheep a dense snowstorm came on, and I left the flock and made for home, but soon found sheep in front of me, which proved to be those I had left. The same thing resulted several times, when, taking a wider bend, I came to a mob of horses, and decided to follow and drive them till they took me home. This plan succeeded admirably.

I have known horses to be snowed up in a mountain valley to a depth of 2 ft., with over 7 ft. in the drifts, and the river

frozen over and buried in snow; yet they kept in good condition for two months, scarcely moving, but pawing away the snow until coming to the 2 ft. length of snow-grass (Danthonia, sp.?), on which they fed. They seemingly required no water; certainly none was procurable during that time. And these horses had been brought from the north, and therefore had no previous knowledge of deep snow and the grass to be found beneath.

I was lately told by a reliable person of an old and favourite horse who was able to open all the gates, and the remedy found effective in stopping him was hanging bits of tin to the gate. He would stand blinking his eyes and shaking his head, but was completely checked by this simple device.

Mares will travel at times long distances to the place where they have received service of the horse, even to going through the centre of a considerable town and remaining pawing and forcing open the stable-door within which was their wished-for mate.

When I was a small boy in England we had a thoroughbred pony and a donkey kept in the same paddock, and one day I noticed quite a small crowd of persons standing in the roadway intently looking at something. The pony was carrying a large stick in his mouth, and was seemingly striking and poking the donkey to make him gallop around. The explanation of this would probably be found in the mischievous habits of the pony; it would sometimes run away with our jackets when laid on the grass whilst we were engaged in a game at cricket. This pony (Fireaway) was certainly very intelligent, and distinguished himself greatly when following the Rufford foxhounds, being very swift and a remarkable fencer.

A fierce duel between mares, when carried on with proper science, is very interesting. To present as small a point of danger to themselves as possible, each runs back so as to keep as near the other as possible, and thus prevent a lashing-out kick. To save their hind legs, as it were, they almost sit down on their tails, looking backward with head turned over the shoulder, squealing shrilly all the time, and jumping about in this singular attitude with great activity, and watching to catch the other at a disadvantage. I have only once seen this encounter in a lifetime.

I once saw two stallions fighting. They upreared themselves frequently, so as to seem surprisingly tall, actually wrestling, as it were, and biting each other on the crest of the neck and withers. Their stertorous breathing could be heard a long distance off. This fight between Jersey and an old cart-entire came off on a clear moonlight night, and roused me from a sound sleep. I rushed away with a long stockwhip and drove the two, still fighting madly, notwithstanding