There is a peculiarity in the stomach of the kangaroo, which I have
not seen noticed in descriptions of that animal, but of which I have
assured myself by frequent personal observation. On opening the
stomach, even while still warm, the grass found in it is swarming with
small white worms, about a quarter of an inch in length, and not
thicker than a fine thread.

The entire contents of the stomach, even the most recently masticated
grass, and grass seems to be its only food, are equally pervaded with
these worms, which swarm in myriads, even where no signs of
decomposition are perceptible.

Resuming our progress, we presently heard a baying from the dogs, who
had again dispersed to hunt. On nearing the spot whence the noise
proceeded, we found them assembled round the trunk of a large tree, in
the hollow of which was a large wombat, a most unsighly brute, in
appearance partaking somewhat of the bear, the pig, and the badger. An
average sized one weighs sixty pounds. The head is flat, neck thick,
body large, legs short, eyes and ears small: the feet provided with
sharp claws for burrowing, three on the hind foot, and an additional
one on the fore foot. They make deep excavations in the ground, and
live chiefly on roots. The hide is very tough and covered with a
coarse wiry hair, and with this defensive armor, and his formidable
teeth and claws, the wombat is a customer not much relished by the
dogs. It was not till we had stunned our new acquaintance, as he stood
at bay in his den, by repeated blows of our sticks on his head, that
we were able to drag him out, and cut his throat.

The flesh is eatable, and I have heard that the hams are held in some