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have said to me. I'm afraid the old the writers of sporting-books, there is missis will be very angry."

"You mustn't mind it if she is, Jenny. I shall stand by you, and you must stand by me; we are both pledged to little Peter."

Jenny smiled through her tears.

"Last night," she said, "after I had cried myself to sleep, I remember now I had a dream. Somebody, I thought, came to me dressed all in white, and put into my arms little Peter."

"Jenny," said Peter solemnly, "that was no dream. She you saw was an angel- my dead wife, Milly. I prayed that she'd help me choose a mother for her boy, and she has chose you."

"Oh, master! can it be so?"

"Yes, I feel sure," said Peter confidently, "for never since God took her from me have I felt so happy. Come, Peter! come, my son-one hand in yours, the other in mine between us, we will lead her in to grandmother and tell her, for your sake and for mine, she must find a word of welcome for our little Jenny." LOUISA PARR.

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THE possibility of enjoying new amusements is rapidly lessening, as facility of communication increases and universal travel becomes the marked characteristic of the age of steam. To catch gigantic salmon in the streams of Norway, to shoot a grizzly bear in the Rocky Mountains, or to enjoy a tiger hunt in the jungles of the maharajah of Kooch-pa-warna, has become as common an occupation with the traveller as the slaughter of partridges on English stubble or the ascent of Snowdon in August. But one may surely claim for an elephant-kraal on a large scale an element of rarity mingled with excitement which it would be hard to match; while the very size and value of the game in view raises the sport at once above the ordinary level. There are moreover two other sides to the enterprise, which certainly do not characterize all forms of sport; there is, if it is properly managed, a complete and refreshing absence of cruelty; while there is on the other hand a wide field for the exercise of pluck, endurance, skill in woodcraft, and knowledge of the habits of the animal to be captured. For whatever may be said or thought by

undoubtedly something revolting about the mere slaughter of an elephant. Of course there is just the possibility of a spice of danger; just the off-chance of the animal's charging you in a blind, blundering sort of way, and bowling you over in his stride; but he is not really a hard animal to come up to; a skilful tracker and ordinary precautions will bring you to within ten yards of him, and then to shoot him is about as brave and skilful a deed as to shoot a milch cow in a farmyard. But an elephant-kraal ranks infinitely higher in the way of sport; and at the same time affords one of the most picturesque sights, one of the most entertaining studies of native manners and jungle life, that it is possible to imagine.

The scene of our kraal is laid in so unapproachable and unpronounceable a part of an unknown district of Ceylon, that the only way of describing it shortly is to say that it is at least forty miles from anywhere. After leaving the skirts of civilization, a long day's and night's struggle over dusty tracks and across obnoxious water-courses brings us at last to the spot where our camp has been pitched. Not an uninteresting place in itself; for half-way up the queer cylindrical rock that overhangs our tents a Singalese potentate of old days built himself a great palace. This was afterwards adopted as a temporary abode by one of the many fugitive kings whom the vicissitudes of Singalese politics turned out of their permanent residences; but he was wise enough to carry with him in his flight that world-famous palladium, the tooth of Buddha, and rich enough to build for it a beautiful shrine, the great stairway of which has lately been restored under the enlightened policy of the present governor of Ceylon. There is something weird and startling in coming across these beautiful remains of an early civilization in so remore and desolate a spot. The fine upward sweep of the stairway, the delicate chiselling of the ornamented balustrade, the life-like posturings of the quaint dancers on the frieze, once pleased the eyes and excited the wonder of a teeming population, long since gone down into dusty death; and are now scarce noticed in their decay by the casual villager in search of honey or herbs, or by the solitary hermit at the little Buddhist shrine near the hill.

But just at present the secluded spot is alive with an absolutely unprecedented bustle. Carts and tents and elephants and servants are arriving every hour; huts

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are being rapidly erected with leaves of first point is to fix upon the place the the cocoanut and talipot palm; and the kraal or corral into which the game is hair of the old hermit, if he had any, to be finally driven. This is usually conwould stand on end at hearing the sound structed artificially by means of a square of English ladies' voices, and the pop of wooden stockade lined with musket-men; exuberant soda-water bottles. Our camp in the present case nature had provided looks very picturesque as we reach it, the corral free of charge. Close to the weary and travel-stained, in the cool of road along which we travelled, two giganthe evening (if indeed coolness is ever a tic reefs of abrupt rock run parallel to possible attribute of these arid regions) one another for about a quarter of a mile. passing through rows of little shops that They enclose some six or eight acres of have sprung up like mushrooms on the jungle; their sides are almost precipitous, roadside; descrying the dim form of a and the entrance and exit are narrow and huge tame elephant, a future gladiator of concealed in trees. Legend says that the the final fight, calmly browsing in a neigh-old Singalese kings held royal kraals here boring clearing; and hailing with content-in days of old; eliminate some twenty ment the sight of the fires that tell of a Europeans, add a little gaudy state and possible dinner and a hot bath though ceremonial, and it is not very difficult to truly the color of the water is very sug- recall the scene. Having settled on your gestive of buffaloes, and severely tests all kraal, it is logically necessary to find your our vows of cleanliness. And from time quarry; and here again no great difficulty to time we can hear afar off some scattered occurs, as many a poor cultivator will tell shots, and dim, confused shouting, telling you, who has to spend long nights and us that the great game we have come to much firewood in driving away the maraudsee captured is at least within ear-shot. ers from his little patch of grain. The The first day or two we settle down in search-parties came upon three convenient camp, and amuse ourselves as best we can herds very soon after their quest began, with such intellectual pursuits as round- gradually drove them together, and sucers and Aunt Sally, highly impromptu ceeded in enclosing between fifty and concerts, and the heartiest of midnght sixty. This feat, which might appear to suppers; religiously resisting every temp- the uninitiated to be the consummation, tation to go near the scene of operations, is really only the commencement of the and contenting ourselves with such scraps business. It is a difficult achievement to of news as we can glean from natives pass-drive a herd of English cattle along the ing to and from the field of battle. For former kraals have always been delayed, and often spoilt, by the anxiety of the British visitor to prove that he knows more of the elephant and his ways than the native hunter; and an officious determination to assist has turned out to be the most complete hindrance imaginable. This time the native is to be allowed to work his wicked will in his own particular way; and the result will doubtless testify to the wisdom of the self-sacrifice. But by the third day human nature and English impatience could stand it no longer. All our novels had been read, and the amount of tobacco consumed was something appalling to estimate; a flattering assurance from the captain of the hunt that "we could do no harm now," armed us with the necessary permission; and off we set in the early morning for a day with the beaters.

But perhaps before describing the sights we saw, it may be as well to give some account of the method in which elephants are captured. A kraal is an extremely simple thing in theory. The only difficulty lies in its manipulation. The

streets of a town on market-day; it is a difficult achievement to conduct an Irish pig, after purchase, to his new quarters; multiply these difficulties by fifty, and it is possible to conceive some notion of the trouble involved in forcing a herd of wild elephants towards a given spot. For, to begin with, there are certain requisites as regards the line of country to be chosen. In the first place the drive must be through thick jungle; once get the herd into the open, and the game is up; for mystery and covers beget success, while familiarity, say both copy-books and shikaris, breeds contempt. Let the mammoths get a fair view of the pigmy forces distracting them with such hideous noises, and a fair field to operate in and the result would be too obvious to be worth discussing. So, too, all roads, village paths, open water courses, and habitations of man must be carefully avoided; while at the same time the country chosen must contain a sufficiency of fodder and water, or the ultimate result will be disastrous in more ways than one. Secondly, although it would be comparatively easy to drive a herd of elderly male elephants, it is not

these, but the females, and more especially the youngsters, which form the really valuable part of the herd, and, as if knowing their own value, give all the trouble. It is nearly always a female that leads the forlorn hope and heads the most reckless charges; and she and her progeny must be kept at all costs within the charmed circle, however hard she may seek to prove that, in the elephantine as in the human world, it is in vain to speculate furens quid femina possit.

The operations of a Singalese kraal are based on a semi-military formation, which perhaps, for antiquity, throws the Macedonian phalanx into the shade. What ever the exact scientific name may be, the civilian mind would describe it as a movable oblong; and one in which, contrary to most military precedents, the post of honor is in the rear, the reason being that the back line does nearly all the beating, and that wild elephants almost invariably charge back and not forwards. The length of the front and of the back line is about a quarter of a mile, that of each side line very nearly a mile; and as the component male elements of the line are stationed very close together, for the joint purpose of conversation and safety, the number of men employed is obviously considerable. Add to the actual beaters the sutlers and camp-followers of the little army, the mere spectators, and the enterprising array of hawkers, and the computation rises with astonishing rapidity.

necessary to enable you to face a raging
elephant in his native jungles is no doubt
considerable; the nerve required to fire
off one of these old-world weapons is in-
finitely greater. Here is an aged single-
barrelled horse-pistol, such as one dimly
remembers to have seen in cheap illus
trated editions of "Dick Turpin's Adven-
tures" or the "Life of Jack Sheppard;"
there a marvellous and equally venerable
musket with a barrel several yards long,
the metal of which is worn so thin that you
could easily squash it between two fingers.
The guns being dangerous enough in
themselves, the native method of loading
does not render them less so.
The great
point of the charge appears to be quantity,
regardless of proportion and result. You
may only have one shot in the day, so let
it be a good one; and if, as often happens
in the early morning, you are not quite
sure whether the gun is loaded or not, ram
in another charge or two, to make assur
ance doubly sure. Moreover wads are an
absurd and costly luxury in the jungle; a
piece of rag torn from the end of your
cloth does infinitely better; and if you
can't borrow or steal the village ramrod,
which the headman insists on monopoliz-
ing, bump your stock on the ground so as
to give the charge a fair chance of setting.

The "early birds" of the camp, having already finished their "little breakfast," are gracefully reclining in the shelter of their cabins; and, their weapons being loaded in the efficient manner described A visit to the "lines" in the early morn- and lying ready to hand, are (mark the ading fully repays you for the thorny struggle vance of civilization!) loading their minds of three miles through the low, close jun-in a somewhat similar manner with lit gle. The camp is awake and stirring has been stirring, in fact, since the very earliest sign of dawn appeared- and is fully occupied in that most important duty, the preparation of the morning meal. You pass along one continuous row of the neatest little huts imaginable, formed of nothing but four sticks and a few dried leaves of the talipot palm; and, in front of the huts, an equally continuous row of fires, for the enemy cooped up within the inclosure is far more afraid of flame and smoke than of his human opponents. On the safe side of the fires, then, it is possible to eat, drink, and be merry with perfect composure, and very savory are the simple messes that are steaming and simmering on every side. But two features at once strike you as peculiar, in a Singalese crowd, the utter absence of the female sex, and the presence of the most extraordinary collection of firearms that mortal eye ever beheld. The courage VOL. LXI. 3131

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erature. For the book-hawker, with his queer little tin box full of cheap pamphlets, almost as miscellaneous as the contents of a kraal musket, is a camp-follower of the first importance; and the local booksellers are doing a roaring trade this morning in a Singalese account of the queen's Jubilee, garnished with a gruesome portrait of the queen's most excellent and most travestied Majesty. Such as cannot read (still perhaps the majority) are endeavoring, with the help of their neighbors, to recall certain potent charms against furious elephants, which they have learnt from their wise men; while those two invariable characters, the oldest inhabitant and the village wag, have each a little knot of admirers, hanging respectively on the utterances of gray wisdom or grinning folly.

But the sun is well up by this time, and a sort of instinctive sensation or rumor, carried no one knows how, runs round the camp that the morning drive is to com

mence; so while the neat little huts are being rolled up into equally neat little bundles, to be carried, with the precious cooking-utensils, to the next halting-place, we make our way to the back line, and are not long in finding ourselves in the presence of the captain of the hunt. He is a fine brawny specimen of a Singalese gentleman, and on great occasions, when he is attending a governor's levée, for instance, or welcoming a new revenue-officer, is a very smart, bedizened personage indeed. At present his costume is rather adapted to circumstances than remarkable for abundance. A handkerchief round his head, the suspicion of a cloth round his loins, sandals on his feet, and the restas nature made it, with the exception of a huge meerschaum pipe, from which he is enjoying a few final puffs; while near him stands a trusty and lusty henchman with his Winchester repeater and his doublebarrelled express. The news he has to give us is chequered with evil tidings. Last night a bold attempt was made to drive the elephants by torch-light, but, like other night attacks not unknown to history, it ended in partial failure, which might have been total discomfiture. A glorious success attended the first rush, and then unluckily the back line, confused by darkness and thick jungle, took up too forward a position, planted their fires, and found they had shut off one-half of the herd, with the result that twenty-five of the enemy escaped scot-free and were seen no more. However there were known to be at least twenty elephants still in the toils; everything was ready for the fray, and we were soon in the thick of it. Words could not describe the hideous din of the onslaught; the shrieks and the yells, the taunts and the invectives, the discord of horns and rattles; and in front the dull crashing of the huge beasts through the jungle, varied by occasional volleys of musketry, as some great laggard in the rear turned for a moment to face his opponents. Then there would be curious moments of simultaneous silence, and it was possible, by a little creeping and manoeuvring, to get close up to the quarry as they stood listening suspiciously in some thick thorn-brake, doubting in which direction to seek escape, until a sudden panic started the unwieldy ranks into a heavy trot, and the trees and creepers parted to right and left, beyond reach of eye and ear, and we waited anxiously for the first tell-tale shot, announcing that the foe had arrived at, and been repulsed from, the further limit.

And so we hunted the great beasts well into the noon, oblivious of the heat and regardless of the thorns. Excitement is a marvellous antidote to hunger and fa tigue, nor was there any thought of either until a halt was called. The lines took up their position with amazing rapidity; fires were lit and muskets re-loaded; and we threw ourselves down under a mighty banyan-tree, and sent rapid messengers to the rear for sandwiches and soda-water.

It is the last day of the hunt. The elephants have been driven bit by bit into a patch of jungle not a quarter of a mile from the yawning entrance to the kraal, which has every right to be inscribed with the motto over Dante's famous por tal. It only wants a vigorous effort to thrust them into it, and that effort is about to be made. We take a tempting position up a patriarchal tree that commands both the jungle prison and the kraal-mouth. It is curious how extremely brave you feel at a kraal when you are safely astride of a firm branch; how you criticise the operations of the beaters and musket-men, and courageously chaff your friends below whose want of activity has deprived them of a similar excuse for bravery. But there is a terrible obstacle in the way of final success, in the shape of what is fondly called "the highroad," though it is merely a sandy track, remarkable for the undetermined depth of its ruts. This lies right across the line of march; can the elephants be got over it in broad daylight? For we have had enough of night attacks and torch-light failures. The struggle is soon raging beneath us; and for a good hour we can trace the evolutions of the "heady fight,” and the movements of the enemy and their pusuers, in the swaying of the treetops and the crashing of the jungle, and the shrill trumpetings of fear and rage, and the shouts and shots of the dusky army. Closer and closer it comes, up to the very verge of the road, but nothing will persuade the giants to break through the fringe of trees; again and again they break back, facing fire and smoke rather than publicity, only to be driven forward again, by volley upon volley of blank cartridge and an ever-increasing array of beaters; until at last a great head, with sensitive trunk outstretched, comes peering out of the thick bushes, and a tentative foot paws the sandy rut. The prospect is plainly not encouraging, for the monstrous body is on the point of turning round again; but luckily the beaters guess, or

are told of, the state of affairs. Pandemonium let loose could not have excelled the outburst of triumphant hubbub; the die is cast, and the crossing of the rubicon commences. The enemy are led by an enormous bull, which scorns to hurry, and proudly marches, as though with the honors of war, from the evacuated fortress; then follows a female, perhaps the queen of his harem, much occupied with the protection of her two tiny calves; and it is touching to see how carefully she guides and guards one with her trunk, while the other holds on lustily with his trunk to her stumpy apology for a tail. The rest of the herd are less interesting and less dignified; there is no at tempt to defend the rear, which is seized with the sentiment of sauve qui peut; helter-skelter they rush over the blinding sand, and are lost to view in the thick trees that guard and conceal the fatal entrance. They are given but a short repose in this last shelter; just long enough for the attacking army to eat the midday rice, but sufficient for one more despairing effort on the part of the besieged. We have left our coign of vantage and are standing on the road, chatting to a hungry musketeer and rejoicing with him over the success of the morning's efforts, when suddenly there is heard the rush of a heavy body through the trees close to us, and out bursts the great bull into the open, his trunk curled up tight for striking, his tail in air, and a look of desperate wickedness in his rolling eye. But the besiegers are ready for him, even at rice-time; guns are seized in an instant, and a fierce volley greets and stops him ere he has time to pass the watch-fires; he hesitates, and the elephant, like the man, who does so, is lost. Two boid sentries step forward and pepper his feet and trunk with small-shot; the line closes on him, firing as it closes; a great shout runs down the length of it, and the champion, finding the better part of valor in discretion, retires with uncurled trunk and drooping tail.

The battle is practically over. The entrance to the kraal is rendered more and more inevitable by gradually closing lines; the herd wanders into it almost unconsciously; a stockade, corresponding to the one at the further end, is run up and lined with guns, and the prisoners have begun their captivity. The scene at the summit of the amphitheatre (if one may apply such a term to an oblong) is picturesque in the extreme. Spectators from every village in the neighborhood

have been pouring in all the morning, and the fairer (or shall we say gentler?) sex is at last allowed to appear now that the danger is over. Brilliant and dazzling are the colors scattered over the black volcanic rock that rises from a sea of jungle; wild and terror-stricken are the rushes of the huge captives in the toils; most audible is the buzz of contented conversation above, most pitiable the trumpetings of impotent rage below.

But the wild herd is weary at last of tearing up and down the narrow arena, for the heat is very great, and the low jungle is trampled down sufficiently to admit of successful operations. The stockade at the entrance is opened, and the four tame elephants march stealthily in. Each carries two mahouts and plentiful store of strong rope, while by the side, or rather under the cover, of each walk two men armed with sharp spears and two nooses. The leader of the tame gang is a mighty tusker, on whose courage and coolness everything depends, for the other three are but novices, and five to one is long odds in a mammoth battle. The object to be gained is to approach the captives so quietly as not to startle them into a series of wild gallops, to cut off one of their number by a well-timed flank movement, and to hem him in. Then will the clever nooser do his work, and slip a deft loop over the hind foot directly it is lifted, while his comrade fastens the other end to a neighboring tree, and actum est de elephanto. But there is many a slip between the lasso and the elephantine foot. All goes smoothly at first. The decoys steal knowingly along the side of the rock wall to within ten yards of the herd, stopping or advancing according to each sign of apprehension or confidence, when suddenly the wild ones scent danger, and, escape being impossible, determine on resistance. The huge champion of the herd challenges the tusker, in knightly fashion, to single combat, and advances on him with stooping head and a reverberating roar. You can almost hear the great skulls crash together, so near do they approach, when out step the spearmen in the nick of time, and strike their keen spears into the soft flesh of the trunk, and the charge is averted. But the champion's followers are bent on mischief in spite of his discomfiture; charge follows charge with furious frequency; one of the tame ones is in full flight for the rear, and the tusker and his satellites have all they can do to save the retreat from turning into a fatal rout. An exciting in

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