83 
Speaking of the Cervus campestris—the common deer 
of the pampas—Mr. Hudson says :— 
“When the doe with fawn is approached by a horseman, even 
when accompanied with dogs, she stands perfectly motionless, gazing 
fixedly at the enemy, the fawn motionless at its side ; and suddenly, 
as if at a preconcerted signal, the fawn rushes directly away from 
her at its utmost speed, and going to a distance of six hundred 
to a thousand yards, conceals itself in a hollow in the ground or 
among the long grass, lying down very close with neck stretched 
out horizontally, and will thus remain until sought by the dam. . . 
After the fawn has run away, the doe still maintains her statuesque 
attitude, as if resolved to await the onset, and only when the dogs 
are close to her she also rushes away, but invariably in a direction 
as nearly opposite to that taken by the fawn as possible. At first 
she runs slowly with a limping gait, and frequently pausing as if 
to entice her enemies on, . . . but as they begin to press her 
more closely her speed increases.”—(The Naturalist in La Plata, 
pp. IIO-II.) 
I once lodged in a house at a famous sea-side resort, 
over the front door of which was carved a coat of arms 
with this motto, Homo homini lupus. There seemed to 
me a touch of irony in this, as indicating the probable 
character of lodging-house keepers in general, if not of 
this one in particular. Ever since, these words have 
occurred to me as somewhat justifying a cynical view 
both as to men and wolves, and especially the latter. It 
was only the other day that I learned to read an entirely 
new meaning into this apparently cynical motto, “A man 
is a wolf to his fellow man ”! The head of a family 
which has been bereaved of its mother will do well to 
follow the example, in principle if not in detail, of the 
father wolf. Mr. T. R. D. Stebbing, in an article on 
“Wolves and Wild Boars in Modern France,” says:— 
“ It is true that, when the cubs are quite young, the she-wolf 
dispenses with her husband’s company, lest his vigorous appetite 
should too fondly embrace his offspring. But should the mother 
lose her life, the young do not for that reason die of hunger. 
The Comte de Canteleu, in 1890, in his ‘ Manuel de Venerie