for him, as Isaid, and fought valiantly and well. The elephants, too, "went in for it" right cheerfully, and it was a sight to see these black moving hills of flesh tugging and lugging and heaving away as earnestly as if, on the issue of their contest, depended the scientific rectification of our frontier. Poor beasts! And yet why poor beasts? Are they not considered the paragons of womanly beauty by the Hindus? "Oh, elephant of my heart," was the tender exclamation with which our ancient fathers used to greet our great-grand-dames during courtship and honeymoon. Ask Sir Mádov Row, who is an authority on Hindu literature, from politics to poetry. And yet your modern Mary Ann would not relish the compliment if her Brown met her behind the kitchen door with, "Ho helephant of my 'art!" But I am sure the ancient Munis[1] and Rishis[2], the venerable sires to whose genius we owe the Vedas and other Shastras, did address their "old flames" as above, when in a frolic mood.
The buffaloes and rams butted away beautifully. Brisk and energetic was the meeting of
