it, but too much is left to the imagination, and too little of either
the game or the dogs is given to the eye.

It is rarely, except when on horseback, that one has the good fortune
to be in at the death, or to see the kangaroo pulled down.

The ground is usually hilly, the scrub thick, and the grass high. It
is needless to say that on the present occasion we were all on foot.
Forestier's Peninsula is no place for a horse, except the traveller be
jogging along the rugged and little frequented track which leads to
Hobart Town, by a most circuitous route.

Away then we strode, skirting the shore pretty closely, until we came
to a valley which had been partially cleared by one of those extensive
bush conflagrations which are of annual occurrence.

The forest is fired in several places every summer, with a view to
keeping down the scrub, and giving a chance of growth to the grass and
the larger forest trees. These burn for several consecutive days, and
at night the glare from them, lighting up the adjacent horizon, and
the wind at one time whirling along vast clouds of smoke, and again
throwing up sheets of flame and myriads of burning particles, produce
an effect as grand as can be imagined. Here, then, in the glade, we
paused, disposed ourselves in an extended line, slipped four dogs, and
gave the word, "go seek."

Away they trotted with nose to the ground, cautiously hunting,
crossing and recrossing, but occasionally getting not only out of
sight in the long grass, but out of hearing and command. Presently a
sharp bark gave the signal of game started, and the next moment we