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sanguine we were sometimes, on the report of a bura pug from the shikaree, but it too often turned out to be the pug of a large sow, and rare indeed was the exhilarating light of a fine duntwala brushing through the grass. Neilghee abounded in every direction, and often afforded us a day's sport when hog were not to be found; the generality were easily run into on a common horse; now and then we with a long-legged, long-winded brute, that took us much further than was at all pleasant for a horse that might be required the next day.

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The scarcity of large hog in a country so noted for them as Katty war could only be ascribed to the season of the year; when every patch of grass cover is so trodden down and thinned by the cattle that no hog who had any regard for his own comfort or bacon would lie there, and risk being disturbed in the heat of the day by a large buffalo, or, what is worse, by the dreaded

halloo of the shikaree.

The hills, under these circumstances, were their only refuge—of course I allude to that part of the country free from jungle; and I would recommend every lover of the sport, who travels that way in future, and does not mind a day's grilling in the sun in the month of April, to stick well to the hills, and make for any he may find within ten miles of each side of the road. He is more likely though to get sport by intercepting the hog as they return from home in the morning than by beating for them in the middle of the day; for he would find great difficulty in getting them down, with the limited number of beaters he could pick up out of two or three villages. We tried both ways, and found the morn

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I must, though, by way of a second conclusion, give you the following:

At the small village of Bheelwara one evening, we as usual mounted our tats, and with five or six creatures commonly yclept "shikaree kottus" sallied forth for general kind of duty; that is to say, to kill anything that came in our way, from the elephant to the monghos, or mongoose.

We soon fell in with some neilghee; and one of the party, taking his gun in his hand, had cantered after them, shortly after which we heard him fire; and concluding some mischief was done, from his hallooing, we took our spears and pricked on to the

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ridden over, for she was in the exact line of direction we had taken.

We all pulled, up of course, to see the lady, who sat up like a dog, about sixty paces off, looking at us, and apparently quite unconcerned. "D-n that Ghorawala," said one; "he is always a mile in the rear.'

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"What a cursed fool I was," said another, "not to have brought my gun instead of spear." The lioness, too, thought she was none of the wisest to sit quietly there and wait till our guns arrived, so she got up and walked into a small bushy ravine about 100 yards off. Ten minutes after, the guns came up; so we put the beaters into the nullah and slipped the dogs, stationing ourselves about 200 yards below, expecting she had moved on a little. However, we were deceived, for they had no sooner commenced beating than we heard a strange squalling of some kind, and one of the poor dogs came limping out of the

nullah so terrified, that on getting to the top of the bank she laid down and seemed rooted to the spot, shivering and shaking like an aspen leaf, and bitten right through the body.

Do not think, too sanguine reader, that after this and a desperate fight the lioness was killed. No, I much regret to say we never again saw her, at least not plainly. One of the party thought he saw her sneak up a cross nullah to the left, which we beat till dark; and being then five miles from our tents, and despairing of killing her by starlight, we bid adieu to her highness.

I have reason to suppose, though, that she will not long remain in the land of the living: the skins of eight or ten fine fellows of her species which I saw, a few days since at this place, are too plain an argument to the contrary. I remain, Mr. Editor,

PONGOES AT THE

Having the other day occasion to gallop down to our fishy fashionable metropolis, or, as it appeared in General Orders, "leave to visit the Presidency on urgent private affairs," which private affairs

were urgent indeed, as any one would have imagined if he could have seen how my teeth chattered when I read that appalling "notice to the parties indebted to the late firm of Baxter & Co." which glared upon me from the column of the last Courier,

Like the dread writing on the wall, That shook Belshazzar in his hall, and made me shake in my shoes. Having, as I before said, occasion to visit Bombay, I took advantage of a seat in the mail

A LOOKER ON. Rajcote, 20th April, 1831.

PRESIDENCY.

gig, and after a few escapes from kicking horses, broken wheels, and blundering half blind jarvies, I got safe enough to the tavern (gracious heaven! a tavern!) at Panwell, that equivocal looking mansion so emphatically and delicately described by your poetical correspondent John Smith outside a hovel, inside a hoven," and in which my feelings were in exact conformity with the last words of the said John Smith's poetical effusion, "by uncomfortable."

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Well, having been safely located at the tavern, and with no inclination to remain there, I made an agreement with the captain of a cotton-boat for a night voyage, and next morning by eight o'clock I

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In what way I arranged matters with the "respectable native gentlemen" who in the notice I have quoted above are "unwilling to wound the feelings of any person," is of no consequence to any but the said Messrs., the purport of this paper not being to convey a lesson on the practical art of "doing a dun," or to hint at a method of baulking a black bailiff, but merely to amuse (if possible) your readers with a description of the numerous varieties of that extraordinary new race of beings called Pongoes, who I found abounded as plentifully at the Presidency as in the Deccan; from which we may fairly infer that this novel species of the mammalia tribe not only delight in picnics and field sports, but that they flourish as vigorously among big-wigs and bummaloes as they do in climates where we have neither the fish of that name nor the bother of the other.

But as I have heard it whispered in our sporting circles that great difficulty has been experienced in the act of detecting a real Pongo, and that many a counterfeit has imposed upon them for a time, I think it may be as well to give you a general description of this respectable tribe, and then afford you one specimen, as a sample by which the uninitiated may judge of the rest.

To commence, therefore, à la Buffon. The Pongo is a very singular animal, of the ape species, gregarious, carnivorous, and in the hot weather sometimes pestiferous; of extraordinary size, frequently attaining the height of six feet, when standing erect upon its hind legs, and so greatly resembles the

human form, that at a distance it might be mistaken for a man, but on a nearer approach the form, the features, the voice, and the action prove it to be a Pongo. The

Pongo has generally 28 or 32 teeth, of which eight are called "dentes incisores," or masticators, [four are canine teeth, or operatives, and the rest denotes molares or grinners. The head has very little in it and nothing particular about it, except its extreme thickness-the nose, generally round at the end, is endued with great powers of detecting a feed-the nether lip falls, particularly after the first week of every month-the eye, though generally quick in perceiving objects, yet has an unaccountable obliquity now and then, as though the creature could not see beyond its own nose. The back is very long and concave about the haunches, the legs thin and generally without any signs of calves, the toes crumpled, and the heels protruding so far behind as to leave the ankle joint in the middle of the foot.

The Pongo feeds voraciously, particularly at picnics and second suppers, and has no objection to a third-if seen in black, his coat always hangs upon him as though he had made it himself with pantaloons to match-is a frequent attendant at evening parties, where he furiously kicks his legs about like a hosier's sign on a windy morning, and calls it dancing--has a sovereign contempt for that class of ladies usually denominated in a ball room wallflowers"-loves a good laugh and enjoys a good joke, but prefers a stew or a perigord pie. The Pongo in red is quite as distingué as the other; in his corps he is a great favourite, the confidant of his brother officers' little secrets, the initiator of the younger Pongoes into the history of all the

Regimental disputes, and can tell the very words which caused the dispute between A and B, and why C and D don't speak, how the old Major wigged E and F on such a day, and why he did not give the Adjutancy to G instead of H. At the Mess he is a jovial companion, no flincher from "Pother Bottle," the manufacturer of tiffin-stews, supper-grills, and mulled port; the never-failing resource for a song on a guest-night, the first to propose a jollification, and the last to quit the merry party.

This Pongo's language usually abounds with strong metaphorical expressions and marked antitheses -thus, he is as pleased as Punch, as cool as a cucumber, and sober as a judge, or else he is as cross as two sticks, hot as blazes, and drunk as a fiddler's bitch.

If not actually regular residents, Pongoes are at least regular visitors, at the Presidency about May and June, just at the time the China ships are expected. During these visits they become constant loungers in the Europe shops, where they may be daily seen turning over the prints and the music, or peeping into the glass cases at the silver curry dishes and cruet stands; they are constant attendants at all outcries, though they seldom bid from anything.

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In the afternoon Pongoes are frequent visitors at the livery stable, especially when a batch of horses has arrived, and flatter themselves they are good judges of bad cattle. But their greatest delight is in hurrying on board the ships from England as they sail into harbour, that they may be the first to speak of the arrivals, their description

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being generally such as that Mrs. X was cross and crooked, Miss P plain and pock-marked and dumpy withal, Miss F fair, freckled, and foolish, and Miss Z chota, cherrycheeked, charming, and childish, for Pongoes are all lovers of alliteration, and fancy it wit.

Above all, if a red Pongo should get hold of a newly-caught cadet, he is then upon the very pinnacle of his pleasure, for he immediately takes upon himself to get the griffin rigged out-introduces him at Parell and to the circle of his brother Pongoes, and to Narranjee the tailor, and probably Billy Banian, and shows him into the shops, explains the mode of buying on long tick, and cautions him against the powerful fascinations of Dungaree.

He concludes his good-natured offices with his usual system of hoaxing, for which he now considers the griff as fair game, sends him to Balchrustna and Gopau for a staff appointment, to the Medical Board for a certificate of health paper of Maun Cawn, the madman for the Emperor of Delhi; tells him that cockroaches are female mosquitoes, and the dhubburs of ghee are elephants' eggs-then, by way of a good joke, he provides him with a blackand-white spotted spotted dog, close cropped and docked from the barracks, and starts him off after breakfast with his gun and his pointer for a day's shooting on Colaba.

The females of this tribe are called Pongooens, of whose habits, manners, propensities, particularities, and persons you shall have a description in my next-till when, adieu.

Yours obediently,
E. E.

SONG FOR THE CLUB OF HARMONICS.

FOUNDED AT MHOW, IN 1828.

Assist me, my friends, just by way of variety,
Bashfulness being the fault of my birth,
In chorus to sing our Harmonic Society
Founded on fun, fishing, frolic, and mirth,
Thro' the day laughing,

Thro' the night quaffing,

Time doth on tiptoes so merrily glide,

Faith, we can call ours

Only "the small hours,"

When the flow of good feeling gets up to full tide,
While laughing away, quaffing away,

Cherrily, merrily passing the day

With laughing and joking,

And quaffing and smoking,

O, ho! very merrily passes the day.

Let your queer snaffling doctors give bitters and tonics

To cure the effects of this clime of the sun;

But I would advise you to try the Harmonics,

For fun against physic I'll back ten to one.

Joking and revelry

Murder blue-devilry,

Banish all sorrow and mitigate pain,

And warmed with pale ale, sirs,

The song, jest, and tale, sirs,

Cease but till each glass is replenish'd again,

While laughing away, &c.

We have lads from the land of the Rose and the Thistle,

The Shamrock has lent us a scion or two,

And if all cannot sing, they can all wet the whistle,

And to wet it requires of bottles no few.

I've no time for fine phrases

To jingle their praises,

Besides, they might treat my endeavours with scoff,

And indeed t'would not suit, sir,

For with their cheroots, sir,

They could, if they fancied it, puff themselves off,
While laughing away, &c.

No hypocrites we, to pretend to platonics;

We leave to the blue-lights such feelings as those,

Love will have its way, and, in faith, the harmonics
All relish a pretty girl under the rose;

To be sure we don't shine

In the compliment line,

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