d taste
his venison. On such occasions "Napoleon le Grand" was of course the
main subject of conversation. Like all old soldiers of the Empire,
Landi worshipped Napoleon; but there was one of the Bonaparte family for
whom the naturalist entertained a still higher feeling of regard,
amounting in fact to sincere friendship. This was Charles Lucien,
prince of Musignano.

Not all the Bonapartes have been bad. Some of the members of that
remarkable family have given evidence to the world that they were the
possessors of noble virtue. The quiet researches of the Prince of
Musignano as a student of natural history, may be looked upon as so many
conquests in the kingdom of Nature; and though they have been eclipsed
by the more brilliant and sanguinary triumphs of the Emperor, yet do
they far more entitle him to the gratitude and respect of men. He was
the true hero of the hunter-naturalist Landi.

For many years did Colonel Landi lead the life we have described. An
event at length happened that was near proving fatal to him. He had
been wounded in the leg during his campaigns in the Peninsula. A fall
from his horse reopened this wound, and amputation became necessary.
This saved his life, but he could no longer partake of the amusements of
the chase, although still able to indulge in the more delicate pursuits
of the naturalist. With his wooden leg he was able to hobble about the
house and lawn, prune the trees, and attend to his pets that had grown
to be quite numerous, while Hugot at all times followed him about like
his shadow. The boys, however, went abroad on hunting expeditions, and
collected specimens as formerly; and the life of all went on pretty much
as usual.

Thus it was when I first became acquainted with the naturalist, his man
Hugot, and his three sons--the _Boy Hunters_, the heroes of our little
book.

Young reader, permit me to introduce you to a more intimate acquaintance
with them. I fancy you will like them--all three--and be happy for some
time in their society.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE PRINCE'S LETTER.

It is a lovely morning in Spring as we approach their dwelling. We
enter the lawn by a side-gate. We need not go into the house, for there
is no one within doors. The weather is too fine for that, but they are
all at home notwithstanding. They are in the lawn in front, and the
verandah.

They are differently occupied. The Colonel himself is engaged feeding
his pets. Hugot is he