Kangarooing in Tasman's Peninsula is essentially a pedestrian sport. I am aware that in an open country, and especially in New South Wales, where the chase is followed on horseback, my assertion may seem like rank heresy.

I have pursued the sport both mounted and on foot, and if a horse enables you occasionally, on comparatively unincumbered ground, to see something more of the run, you must still have pedestrians to hunt the dogs. After all, decide this point as you will, we esteem it the poorest variety of the chase. Some excitement must necessarily attend 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 catch a glimpse of the kangaroo in mid air, as he bounds down the declivity in a succession of leaps such as the kangaroos only can accomplish.

There he goes, his tiny ears laid back along his small deer-like head, his forefeet gathered up like a penguin's flappers, and his long stout tail erect in the air. Now bounding aloft, now vanishing as he leaps into the waving grass.

Two more of the dogs have sighted him, and are silently tearing along on his track. Every bound increases his distance from his pursuers, he winds round the base of the hill, to avoid the ascent, but up he must go; this is the only chance for the dogs, for running up hill is the kangaroo's weak point. But now we lose sight of both dogs and kangaroo; a burst of three minutes has sufficed to exhaust our first wind, and to break one of our shins; for tearing through grass as high as one's middle and stumbling over charred stumps and fallen trees, soon reduces one to the "dead beat" predicament. Jerry, alone, thanks to his hard condition, follows the chase.

All the party are now scattered, and after while reassemble by dint of continuous "cooees." Whilst swabbing the perspiration off our brow, one of the dogs makes his appearance, and, trotting slowly back with panting flanks and lolling tongue, throws himself on his side exhausted. His mouth is now carefully examined, and two fingers being inserted, scoop round the fauces. The test is successful; there are traces of blood and fluff. "Bravo! Rattler! Show him—good dog. Show him!" Rattler rises with an effort, and lazily strikes into the bush, to the right. We follow in Indian file, and at about half a mile distant we come upon the kangaroo lying dead, with the second dog, old "Ugly," stretched at its side.

The kangaroo usually found in the Peninsula is not the largest description commonly known in these colonies as the "boomer," or a "forester," but the brush kangaroo, which rarely exceeds seventy pounds in weight; forty is more common. There is a still smaller variety, known as the "wallaby." The brush kangaroo is easily killed by the dogs; a grip in the throat or loins usually suffices. The boomer is a more awkward customer, and, if he can take to the water, he shows fight, and availing himself of his superior height, he endeavors to drown the dogs as they approach him. The kangaroo is a graceful animal, but appears to most advantage when only the upper part of his body is seen. His head is small and deer-shaped, his eyes soft and lustrous, but his tapering superior extremities rise almost pyramidally from a heavy and disproportioned base of hind legs and tail.

The kangaroo dog never mangles his prey although fond of the blood, with a portion of which he is always rewarded.

Jerry now threw himself on the ground beside the game, and, drawing his couteau de chasse, commenced the operation of disemboweling. After ripping up the belly, he thrust in his arm, and drawing out the liver and a handful of coagulated blood, he invited the dogs to partake of it. The carcass being gutted, some dry fern is thrust in, the tail is drawn through the fore legs, and secured with a bit of whipcord, and then the game is suspended over the shoulder—no insignificant weight either. If the kangaroo be very heavy, the hind quarters only are carried, but the skin being of some value, it is not needlessly destroyed.

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 ............