easier procurable; while the remainder were made up of young lads and boys. The services of these latter we quickly dispensed with, and proceeded to "fall in" the remainder, presenting each with a gun-wad, a sort of cash ticket, the holder of which was entitled at the end of the day to remuneration. Without these very necessary precautions we might have had to pay several who had only come for an hour or so, or perhaps not at all, their countenances not being so striking as to make them remembered, except perhaps for ugliness. We then placed two sepoys in command, who were to manoeuvre them in the jungles, and proceeded to the belt of jungle selected, which was of no great extent, at the foot of a small range of hills, about 250 yards in breadth and half-a-mile in length.

Taking up our positions at the nearest end, one at either corner, at sufficient distance to cover the ground between us, our pack of two-andtwenty couple of "Baker's black-tans," which Warwickshire knew well, was thrown in at the other or farther end. They were extended in line at sufficient intervals to beat the jungle, and directed to howl to their hearts' content and beat tom-toms, which they do more to keep up their courage than frighten the game. At a signal from their leaders they advanced, and we waited anxiously for the result. As one never knows what game might make its appearance, we were loaded both with ball and cartridge, our second guns being held in reserve by the shikarrees. At first the noise of the beaters was but indistinctly heard, but soon their approach was heralded by a few frightened partridges, hares, and an occasional pea-fowl, specimens of which were transferred to our larder. We had, therefore, got rather down-hearted, when an unmistakable scuffling and squealing betrayed the approach of a "sounder" of pig, which however turned on seeing us, and broke back, completely disorganising our line of beaters, who were with great diffi culty brought up to the scratch again. We were, however, rewarded for our disappointment by the appearance of three or four spotted deer, which bounded out like lightning about midway between us, receiving as they passed the contents of both our barrels, killing one and wounding another, which we afterwards followed up with success. We had hardly re-loaded, when out came two "chikara" or ravine deer, one of which was credited to our guns; and just as the beaters made their appearance, we had the satisfaction of polishing off an hyena, which had evidently held out to the last, coming out almost in front of the

beaters.

Thus the curtain fell on the last of our jungle exploits for that cold season, as we felt there was little chance of our getting leave again before the hot weather, when, although sport is better, yet the jungles are not nearly such delightful places of residence. The next morning with heavy hearts we struck our tents, packed up, loaded our elephants, and despatched them some hours before us, and then sat down with only our horses for company (their syces having preceded them), and discussed our last jungle meal. After a last look at our happy hunting grounds, we mounted, and reached cantonment in time for mess, feeling all the better both in health and spirits for our trip, satisfied with our success, and quite ready after our holiday to re-commence instructing the sable warriors of Her Majesty in the profession of arms. Thus ended with many regrets our "Ten Days' Leave in the Jungles.

BEFORE.

ENGRAVED BY E. HACKER, FROM A PAINTING BY E. CORBET.

BY CASTOR.

Surely the Story of the Start has yet to be written; and we have seen it in all its many phases. On country courses in days gone by, when jockeys, like Thames watermen, started themselves. At Epsom, when they dropped down from the Warren, and the starter said Go! one moment, and No! No! the next. At Newmarket, when it was worth a pilgrimage to the post to witness one of those romantic starts for the Cesarewitch-a sight to be seen at Newmarket, and Newmarket only-and one we fancy familiar even to very few there. "Far from the busy haunts of men, and shut out by the Ditch from the veriest glimpse of all the bustle of a race-course, this is a scene altogether unique in its way, as you watch a field of some thirty horses calmly facing the starter, with scarcely a soul beyond a few labourers from the adjoining fields, who, leaning on their hoes, gaze with smiling faces at the preparations for a Go! "Now then, says Mr. McGeorge, with evidently no anxiety on his mind, "'tis about time you were moving ;" and in a minute or two they are gathered together, the flag drops-and they are off! The gangsmen return leisurely to their weeding, the officials look complacently on their fast receding family, while presently the gathering storm culminates in a roar as they are discerned coming through, with the favourite in front. At Goodwood, in the full blaze of high fashion and summer sunshine, have we bid them good speed for the Cup. At Doncaster we have fairly cowered on the Stand as the pitiless storm washed through those silken suits; and at our own next-door Spring Meeting have we ourselves faced the flag for a scurry stake. We have met Sam Chifney an hour or so after the race was won, literally walking-over the Derby course with his horse on his arm. in the vain hope of establishing an objection. We have heard that elegant horseman, William Sadler, tell Mr. Tom Hussey, on the hometrained one, to "Start yourself, if you think I want to get the best of you!" And we have witnessed the exchange of courtesies amongst the lads and cads who took the oaths with their seats at some minor metropolitan meeting.

And what shall we say more of that "tulip-bed," as they call it? where the brown colt marches along with all the composure of a seasoned park-horse, and the light chesnut twists round and round in his nervousness like a smartly-spun tee-totum. When the old jockey does'nt seem to care so much about being exactly in the front of the rush; and the young one, whose turn is to come hereafter, knows and heeds of nothing but his orders to get well-off and to go as fast and as far as he can. Often as it may have been attempted, never has such a scene been done so much justice to as by NIMROD, although confessedly himself not much of a racing man; and his famous description fits into our print to a nicety: "Fancy twenty-four three-year-old colts, looking like six-year-old horses, with the bloom of condition on their coats,

drawn up in a line at the starting-place, with the picked jockeys of all England on their backs, and on the simple fact of which may prove the best perhaps a million sterling depends. They are off! No, no!' cries one jockey, whose horse turned his tail to the others just as the word 'Go' was given. It is sufficient, 'tis no start, and Come back!' roars the starter. Some are pulled up in a few hundred yards -others go twice as far. But look at that chesnut colt-white jacket and black cap-with thousands depending upon him! He is threeparts of the way to Tattenham Corner before his rider can restrain him. Talk of agonizing moments!-the pangs of death!-what can at all equal these? But there are no winnings without losings, and it is nuts to those who have backed him out. Who can say, indeed, but his temper being known, the false start may have been contrived to accommodate him? However, they are all back again at the post, and each rider endeavouring to be once more well placed. Observe the cautious John Day, how quietly he manoeuvres to obtain an inside location for his worthy master, his Grace of Grafton. Look at neat little Arthur Pavis, patting his horse on the neck and sides, and admiring himself at the same time; but his breeches and boots are really good. Watch Sam Chifney minutely; but first and foremost his seat in the saddleIncorpsed and demi-natured With the brave beast

and his countenance! 'tis calm though thoughtful. But he has much to think of: he and his confederates have thousands on the race, and he is now running it in his mind's eye. Harry Edwards and Robinson are side by side, each heavily backed to win. How they are formed to ride! Surely Nature must have a mould for a jockey for the purpose of displaying her jewel-the horse. And that elegant horseman, Sam Day; but see how he is wasted to bring himself to the weight! Observe the knuckles of his hands and the patella of his knees, how they appear almost breaking through the skin! But if he have left nearly half of his frame in the sweaters, the remaining half is full of vigour; and we'll answer for it his horse don't find him wanting in the struggle. Then, that slim young jockey with the high cheek bones and long neck: surely he must be in a galloping consumption. There is a pallid bloom on his sunken cheek, rarely seen but on the face of death, and he wants but the grave-clothes to complete the picture. Yet we need not fear; he is heart-whole and well; but having had short notice, has lost fifteen pounds in the last forty-eight hours. They are off again; a beautiful start, and still more beautiful sight!"

It would be scarcely possible to pen anything more perfect in its way than this. The extraordinary force with which each jockey's form and character is given in a line or so; the unaffected easiness of the style, but still the refined art with which the story is interrupted at its very zenith with the sudden and, as it were, involuntary exclamation"They are off again!" One might be standing by the writer's, or rather speaker's, side on the Hill; although we believe that in point of fact the very Derby Nimrod here affects to describe, in Dangerous' year, he did not see, as he was then in France. But then he had seen it so often, and knew each actor on the scene so well! and here of course centres the secret of his strength The galloping consumption