THE BRITISH WOLF.
OF all the animals that play important parts in the litera- ture of childhood, none, perhaps, excites such interest (of the fearful type) as does the wolf. The bear (with his "deadly hug ") is formidable, it is true; but then there is always something fat and good-natured about him; besides, he not infrequently proves to be a Prince in disguise. The dragon devours "whole crowds" of people ; but these devoted victims are merely shadowy creations; "crowds," and naught else; their fate is a tale of little meaning; they are not at all too bright or good for dragon nature's daily food. The wolf, on the other hand, is never by any chance good-natured,— never fat, even; he is perfectly capable of devouring prominent characters in the story; good people, too, like Riding Hood's grandmother, or personages merely frivolous or greedy, like the two elder of the Three Little Pigs. Unlike the lion and the tiger, moreover, he fits in perfectly with the ordinary country landscape of these islands : it is so easy to fancy him
lurking in that dark little shrubbery, or crouching in the long grass at that very lonely corner of the road. And though maturer knowledge assures us that no wolf now roams at large within the confines of the Four Seas, the "grey beast" remains for most of us an object of interest at least, if no longer a cause of terror. It is just barely possible, indeed, that an isolated specimen or two of the breed may yet exist among the pathless wilds of Connemara, or some equally savage district—a report of the kind was current about two years ago—and may one day astonish us with an authentic discovery.
As such an event, however, is rather improbable, we will for the present speak of the British wolf in the past tense. He would seem, judging by remains exhumed from prehistoric caves and mediaival middens, to have been identical with the common wolf (Canis lupus) still to be met with on the Con- tinent. This animal is tall, gaunt, and long-limbed; he measures, when full-grown, some five and a half feet from nose to tail-tip, and stands about three feet three inches at the shoulder. He is covered with thick fur of grey, mingled with fawn and black ; the inside of the legs is lighter in colour, whence the Norseman (with his ancient dread of calling hurt- ful things by their proper names) calls him "grey-legs." His jaws are immensely powerful, and he has an unpleasant habit of continuing to snap when he has once laid hold, instead of gripping as the dog does. He is suspicious, but not especially cunning, and is savage, but not courageous ; for when caught in a trap he becomes a mere sheep. A perpetual hunger afflicts him, and his life is a compromise between that and fear ; it drives him to herd with his kind, when he becomes formidable, as many a belated wanderer in the very streets of medimval cities has learned to his cost. But his social instinct is less than that of other animals; he loves the flesh of his own kindred. A sick or wounded wolf meets with short shrift from his pack-mates.
His remains have been found in almost every county in Britain, and numerous place-names, Teutonic and Celtic, preserve his memory. No doubt lie played a principal part in the vast vanished portion of British folk-lore. January was his pairing season in England (in Ireland, according to Cambrensis, it took place two months at least earlier) ; then he waxed so exceeding fierce that the Saxons called it Wolf-month. Odin was always accompanied by two wolves, Geri and Freki, and a Saxon witch needed no better horse than the "grey beast." The plant aconite, called "iron-hat" and " storm-hat " in Germany and Denmark, was in England called " wolfsbane." Gervase of Tilbury asserts that the wolf opens his mouth with great difficulty, and by means of his fore-paws; for which reason (says Gervase), he keeps his jaws apart as much as possible, especially when pursued. Cambrensis credits the beast with a poisonous tongue, and relates a curious story of a man and woman transformed into wolves in Ireland during his own time Alexander Neckam describes the wolf, in his "Bestiary," as having been often tamed for hunting, but as always relapsing into the wild state. Nash is answerable for the curious statement
that the animal, when about to attack a horse, swallows much earth, so as to increase his fighting-weight. He figures in Gaelic folk-lore, under his Erse names of madadh aluidh (wild dog) and Mae T;re (Son of the Earth).
Britain has been infested with wolves from that remote period conventionally termed "the earliest times." Their fossilised remains are frequently discovered; their bones lie about the untidy floors of prehistoric caves; the barrow-folk made necklaces of their teeth. They are mentioned in Welsh and Saxon laws. The Norman, however fond of the "tall deer," was not affectionate towards the wolf, for in many feudal tenures, down to the year 1439, appears an obligation to hunt him. An entry in the account-rolls of Whitby Abbey (quoted by Mr. Harting) records a payment for dressing wolf- skins in the year 1394,—possibly the latest strictly historical evidence as to the English wolf. Mr. Harting mentions a tradition that one Barnes, in the time of Henry VII., was nicknamed "Roast Wolf" because he destroyed so many of these animals, which infested Durham and Yorkshire (according to another legend) during the reign of Elizabeth.
In Scotland, owing to its physical character, they existed until a much later period. So recently as 1577, an Act of the
Scottish Parliament ordained a wolf-hunt in each barony four times a year. Sir Ewen Cameron slew the last wolf in Lochaber in 1680. A little later, the last in Sutherland was destroyed, under the following circumstances. A man named Poison, accompanied by his son and another young lad, suc- ceeded in finding the den of a she-wolf among the wild recesses of Glen Loth. The den consisted of an underground chamber, accessible only by a narrow fissure among the rocks. The she-wolf being absent, the two lads entered the cave, in which they found five or six cubs; these they began to destroy, while Poison remained outside on the watch. He was scarcely vigilant enough, for the she-wolf returning, succeeded in dashing past him, and had gained the entrance of the den before he could stop her. With a sudden grasp he caught her by the tail, and while she strained frantically inward he tugged her back with all his strength, neither gaining any advantage. The struggle went on for some time in perfect silence ; the youths within were quite unaware that anything remarkable was taking place, and Poison heard them grumbling that he was obstructing the light. At length the son called out fretfully, "What is keeping the light from us ? " "If the tail breaks," said Poison, "you will soon. know that." Meanwhile he had drawn his dirk and was using it upon the beast's body in such a fashion that he was soon able to draw her out and finish her upon the ground. One liffAcQueen of Vall-a-chrocain killed the last wolf in the Findhorn district. (Stuart refers this memorable feat to the year 1743.) The story runs that a poor woman, crossing the hills with her two little children, was set upon by a wolf. She escaped with great difficulty, and both the children perished. The Macintosh, chief of the district, proclaimed a great hunt for the next day. MacQueen, as a notable hunter, was eagerly expected at the meeting-place; but he came an hour late. Being upbraided with his tardiness, he made answer by producing the wolf's head from under his plaid. "As I came through the slochk [hollow, ravine] by east the hill there,' said he, foregathered wi' the beast. My long dog there turned him. I buckled wi' him, and dirkit him, and syne whuttled his craig, and brought awa' his countenance, for fear he might come alive again; for they are very precarious creatures.' " This was probably the last wolf slain in Scotland; though Lord Morton, then President of the Royal Society, assured Buffon in 1756 that there were some still existing there at that time. The noble Lord seems to have spoken upon hearsay, and not to have possessed absolute evidence.
Ireland, too, was much infested with wolves, and down to a period comparatively recent That noble dog, the Irish wolf- hound, has been bred from remote times for their destruction. Lord William Russell records in his diary that in 1596 he and Lady Russell went wolf-hunting at Wilinainhain,—quite close to the capital! In 1710 a presentment was made in County Cork for destroying the beasts ; and Macaulay quotes a poem published in 1719 to prove that they were quite common in Minister at that time. A writer in the Dublin Penny Magazine was acquainted with an old man whoa.
mother remembered that many wolves were slain in Wexford about 1730.40; and he cites a popular tradition that the last wolf was killed in the Wicklow Mountains in 1770. The same writer narrates some interesting circumstances relating to the slaughter of the last wolves of Tyrone. It appears that the people of these parts were much troubled by two wolves, who committed great ravages upon their flocks. A reward was offered, and a noted hunter, Rory Carragh, sent for. He agreed to attempt the destruction of the beasts. There was a large stone-built sheepfold which the marauders were accustomed to visit, and thither Carragh repaired at midnight, accompanied only by a boy of twelve years old and two wolf- hounds. "'Now,' said Carragh to the boy, 'as the two wolves usually enter the opposite extremities of the sheepfold at the same time, I must leave you and one of the dogs to guard this one while I go to the other. He steals with all the caution of a cat ; nor will you hear him, but the dog will, and positively will give him the first fall ; if therefore you are not active when he is down, to rivet his neck to the ground with this spear, he will rise up and kill both you and the dog. So good-night." I'll do what I can,' said the little boy, as he took the spear from the wolf-hunter's hand." Carragh departed for his own station, and the boy, entering the enclosure, crouched down within the gate with the dog beside him. The cold and dark- ness affected the child so much that soon, in spite of his danger, he dozed off into stupor. He was roused by the roar of the great dog as he bounded upon the wolf, that was steal- ing by; the hound flung his enemy upon the ground, and so held him for an instant; then the boy drove his spear with a good will through the wolf's throat, just as Carragh returned, bearing the head of the other.
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