For some years, till the country became more settled, I was obliged to shut up my sheep at night for fear of these prowling wretches.  The first flock I ever had were all killed by these thieves.  One night I was awakened by my dog barking furiously, and from the manner in which he kept rushing against the door I was sure some wild animals were about the premises.  At first I thought it was useless to get up; for the night was dark, and I knew the sheep were housed.  However, the increased fury of my dog Grouse, who seemed intent on getting into the house, as if he were frightened, obliged me to dress and turn out.  On my opening the door, Grouse rushed in looking dreadfully scared, so with a lantern in one hand and a gun in the other, I marched towards the sheep-pen, the door of which not having been securely fastened by my lad, I found open, and six sheep out, and for these I now commenced a cautious search.

About twenty yards from the pen, I found one of my best sheep lying on the grass with his throat cut very scientifically just behind the ear.  A few paces further on, I found another, and so on, till five were forthcoming.  The sixth I did not get till the morning, which was the only one that escaped the teeth of the marauders.  It seems that my appearance with the light drove the wolves from their prey.

Luckily for me, the weather was cold, my sheep fat, and well-butchered, as far as bleeding was concerned, so that I was no great loser, except by having a rather larger supply of mutton at one time than was quite convenient for the housekeeping department.

About eleven or twelve years since, I lost in one season a flock of sheep by the wolves.  This misfortune occurred, unluckily for me, in the hottest month of the Canadian year, July.  I had not housed my sheep, because I found that, in very sultry weather, during the fly-season, they would not feed in the day-time, but would creep under the fences and into the Bush for shade.  I, therefore, thought it best to risk losing some, than to spoil the whole flock; for I knew the only time they would graze was during the night, or very early in the morning.  Consequently, for three or four years previously, I had allowed them to run at large during the summer months.

One morning, I observed from the veranda in front of my house, a sheep, which was standing on the opposite bank of the river.  As I knew there was no farm within two or three miles of the river in that direction, I thought I would go over in a canoe, and see what brought it there.  I had not gone half way to the river when I discovered the mangled carcass of one of my own sheep, and on further search found ten more, lying, half-devoured, in different directions—­the murder was now out.  The sheep I had seen on the opposite shore was one of my own, which had taken to the water, and had thus escaped the fangs of the wolves.  I saw two more of my luckless flock on a shoal more than a mile down the river, which—­less