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A PRESENT FOR MY WIFE.

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fairly free from pests; and, when the house was ready, the owner was never tired of looking at it and singing my praises as a benefactor to his race. A most worthy gentleman my landlord was, with a pedigree longer than my arm; and the morning before I left he appeared in order to wish me good-bye. Beneath his ample flowing garment he carried what appeared to be a silver vase or flagon; and a thought passed through my head that this must be a presentation cup subscribed for by the thousands of Mahomedans that owed him allegiance. I asked him what he had got there, as, with an air of much importance, he placed the mysterious article upon the table. He explained that he had determined to present a spittoon, of pewter, to my wife; the exact counterpart to one in constant use by his wife whilst chewing betel; for this, he said, would recall him to our minds when the seas divided us.

Although the custom of receiving presents from natives has happily come to an end, the idea that Indian civilians must necessarily be rich unhappily remains. The truth is that there are fewer rich men in the Indian Civil Service

* See Speeches on India by the Right Hon. John Bright.

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THE INDIAN CIVIL SERVICE.

than in almost any other service in the world. I have little doubt that if accurate statistics were taken, it would be found that not five per cent. of retired civilians can afford to keep a carriage and pair in England, or give their daughters a thousand pounds when they are married. Tradesmen in respectable London streets have a better chance of acquiring wealth than members of the Indian Civil Service; and, if honour is looked for in an Indian career, nine-tenths of civilians can only hope to return to England and remain in utter obscurity, though for many years they may successfully have administered the affairs of no inconsiderable portion of the human race, and governed the country which supplies England with half its wealth, and gives it the foremost place among European nations. The pensions which civilians receive keep them certainly above want; but, in several instances, the amount which individuals have subscribed towards their pension would have purchased an equal annuity in any London insurance office.

CHAPTER IV.

Madhuban, or the Honeywood.-Land brought under cultivation by the Santhals.-A Day's Jungle-fowl shooting in the Kharakpoor Hills.-Plants, Birds, and Insects.Archery in the Shade.-Ants and Kites.-Split-headed Mantis. Scarcity of large Birds in Europe when compared with India.-Kites-nesting near the Houses in Monghyr.-Nests in Casuarina Trees.-Cuckoos.— Starting a Museum.—The Domestic Pig of India.—The Monoculus, Scorpions.- Snakes in Monghyr.- The Snakes' Barber.-Snake by Post.-Coiners and their Dupes.

MADHUBAN, or the Honeywood, where my tents are pitched, a few years ago was covered with dense jungle, the home of deer and pea-fowl, where even the hunter dared not remain after dark, for fear of a tiger or leopard springing on him unawares. But the railroad now runs near, and advancing population has cut down the jungle and ploughed up the soil, so that my tents are now surrounded by villages and smiling

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fields, where the virgin soil yields abundant crops of poppy, tobacco, indigo, castor-oil, and other plants which contribute to the varied wants of mankind. The beasts and feathered game have retired to the adjacent hills, which, extending for many miles, afford them shelter or repose.

The land has been brought under cultivation by the Santhals, who have thriven wonderfully under English rule, and always appear fat and happy. During the recent famine there was little fear of the Santhal starving. He danced and sang notwithstanding the high prices which appalled his Hindoo neighbour. When rice fails he falls back on jungle products, roots, honey, rats, and snakes, washed down by whisky made from the mahwa flowers, which fall thickly from the trees on all sides. Although European opinion is much divided in Monghyr regarding the merits of the Santhals, they have always appeared to me a simple, merry race, and free as the birds among their native hills. They have their weak points like other mortals, certainly; and not the least culpable of these is their love of poaching. Ever prowling about with guns or bows and arrows, all is fish that

SHOOTING IN THE HILLS.

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comes to their net, in season or out of season alike. Woe to the pea-fowl or jungle-hen that the Santhal finds sitting on her eggs. It would never enter his head to pass her by; she is knocked on the head without remorse, and the eggs borne home in triumph.

In consequence of this poaching propensity, little sport is generally to be had near a Santhal village, although the jungle may appear most favourable; and the Santhals themselves are admirable beaters, and will turn out every living thing from a tiger to a wren.

It was accordingly with no great hope of sport that yesterday I accepted an invitation from the Manjhi, or chief Santhal, here, to have a day's jungle-fowl shooting under his guidance in the hills. He assured me that, as he expected I should come, the woods had not been disturbed for months; and he had sent round among the neighbouring villages to collect the most wary beaters. And, indeed, I knew the Manjhi would do his best to show me sport, for he has been employed by me during the past year to collect specimens of natural history in the only partially explored hills of Kharakpoor. I paid him fifty shillings for five live tupaias,

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