a noble view. Below you, a mountain-stream finds its way through a deep ravine, on the other side of which Hoolicul, the Tiger Mountain, rises toweringly, clothed with wood from its base to its summit, and crowned, where it hangs over the lowlands, with a deserted fortress.
There is here a bazaar for the natives, where they stop to spend the night on their way from the villages to the weekly market at Ootacamund. ‘The narrow road is crowded on these days with Hindus and their pack-oxen, bringing produce from Coimbatoor. The patient camel, silently chewing his cud by the roadside, waits for the word of command; and elephants, in the employ of government, move heavily along; or you may see them lying in the stream on their broad sides, while the mahouts, (keepers,) seated upon them, scrape their brown hides with pieces of rough stone. This the huge creatures seem greatly to enjoy, lying with their heads entirely beneath the water, from time to time lifting their trunks for a breath, and then lazily dropping them again into the stream.
We left Conoor at three in the morning. The moon had set, the air was cold and damp,
