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, From The Saturday Review.
HUNTING IN THE HIMALAYA.* A TEAK or two ago we reviewed an account, of which Mr. Dunlop was the author, of the services against the Indian mutineers of a corps of volunteer cavalry called the Khakee Ressalah. Since the publication of that volume its author has returned to England, and has thrown considerable light on the training which qualified him for hia military duties. He had for many years pursued the large game of the Indian forests and jungles, and in shooting tigers and wild elephants had acquired a familiarity both with personal danger and with the use of arms, especially firearms, which proved singularly useful at a time when every man had to defend his life sword in hand. Several books upon Indian field sports have been published during the last few montKs, and they convey a sufficiently clear notion of the sort of incidents by which they are usually characterized to justify Mr, Dunlop in departing from the common practice of filling his pages with anecdotes of the vaiious animals which he has killed at different times, and in giving a far larger proportion of collateral information about the scenes of his exploits and their inhabitants, human and animal, than is at all common with the authors of eporting books. His work contains a good deal of interesting information upon these subjects, which, whether new or iiot, is certainly curious and amusing. Two or three years ago, Mr. Charles lieadc, in a novel called Cream, exposed the character of elephants, which had usually been supposed to be models of all the milder virtues. Mr. Kcade's elephant was a paragon of treachery and cruelty. To some extent, Mr. Dunlop's information confirms this view. It appears that there is a whole class of elephants, called by the natives Khunnees, or murderers, from their habitual crimes. They are regarded with the greatest possible dread, and are so common that the appearance of a herd of wild elephants throws the natives into a state of "abject terror." They are usually males, and are particularly dangerous when they are under the influence of sexual passion. At such periods, "they sometimes kill all they meet or can catch for a week or two, becoming, however, quiet and comparatively harmless when they return to their sober senses." Some elephants, however, are apparently cruel and treacherous at all times. One elephant crushed a
fjlunting in the Himalaya. With Notices of •Customs nnd Countries from the Klephant Haunts •of jthc Dehra Doon to the Bunchowr Tracks in
Kternai Snow. By R. H. W. Dunlop, C.B., Author •of-'1 Adventure with the Khakee Ressalah." Lon
<l"n: BentJey. 1SGO.
letter-carrier "from mere wantonness and
cruelty." Another treated a woman in the same way "from some unaccountable lore of mischief," and after doing so, "went on wagging his ears and drinking, as if his little practical joke had been a harmless freak of fancy." This exploit was announced to Mr. Dunlop by a native writer as follows:—
"This morning the elephant of Major E ,
by sudden motion of cnout anil foot, kill one old woman. Instant fear fall on the inhabitants. I have the honor to be, eir,
Your most obedient servant."
The worst of these stories, however, is one of an elephant which caught a native laborer round his chest wi^h his trunk, putting its foot on his legs, by which means it literally tore him in two, leaving one half twenty paces from the other. Some of these animals obtain considerable local reputation. One of them, called Gunesh, belonged to the commissariat, and, having killed hit keeper, escaped to the jungle with a piece of chain attached to his leg, by which, as well as by the fact that the tips of. his tusks have been sawn off, he is identified. In the course of fifteen years he is said to have killed fifteen people. Though well known, he has evaded pursuit during this long period, as he has a range of many hundred miles of uninterrupted forest and jungle to roam in at the foot of the Himalayas.
The. morals of elephants amongst themselves are not more free from reproach than their behavior towards human beings. The females are employed to ensnare the males, and do so with wonderful cunning and dexterity. They "move up by quiet advances" to the males, stare at them "in respectful admiration," stroke, and in the fashion of elephants, kiss them with the end of their trunks; and when by these endearments they have thrown their victims into the proper state of blind confidence, they tie their legs with ropes, coiling them neatly in a figure of 8, and occasionally going so far as to hitch the end of the rope to the last loop, so sis to make all fast. A less unamiable illustration of the intelligence of elephants is to be found in the dexterity with which they avail themselves of the assistance offered them when they get into difficulties. The commonest disaster which befalls elephants is that of getting begged. This often happens in beating a jungle for tigers, when the elephants are obliged to keep in line, and so are prevented from avoiding bogs as they do in a wild state. When the accident occurs, every one present helps to cut down boughs of trees, which are handed to the elephant, who, without further assistance or explanation, pushes the branches under his
feet as fast as he gets them, " moving his trunk about with nervous rapidity to seize the supports as fast as they can be brought." If the supply is abundant enough, he soon makes himself a causeway to the bank. If sufficient wood is not at hand, ho sinks by degrees under the bog; and " the last that is seen of him is the end of his trunk, which he holds up, with its curious little digit finger catching for breath, until it also is swallowed up."
Mr. Dunlop's acquaintance with tigers is less extensive than with elephants, lie mentions, however, one or two singular points about them. He says that a tiger "»ill strike down a bullock with a blow from its paw. It will then cam- oft' the body, seizing it as a cat would a mouse, and, raising itself to its full height by straightening its limbs, will, without any apparent exertion, •walk away, scarcely allowing the legs to trail | on'the ground." It is almost impossible to prevent the natives from disfiguring the skins of dead tigers, by cutting oil' the whiskers and claws. The whiskers arc cut off as a deadly, insult—the claws in order to be used as charms.
Mr. Duulop is obviously a keen observer, and has contrived to pick up a curious collection of miscellaneous facts of more or less interest. Thus the preternatural rapidity •with which carrion attracts vultures has frequently been noticed, and has usually been attributed to an extraordinary keenness ot scent. Mr. Dunlop gives a much more probable account of the matter. Vultures arc constantly wheeling far up out of sight in the sky; they have a very keen sight, and the instant that any one changes his idle •wheel for a fixed course towards an object, every vulture in sight follows him. "The most distant of them has others, again, more distant to follow him, and thus the fact of food to eat is telegraphed for hundreds of miles." A singular annoyance of which Mr. Dunlop, like other Indian sportsmen, has had some experience, is found in the land leeches, which infest both the grass and the jungles in most parts of India. They are extremely small, and swarm up the trousers and down the stockings of those who explore their haunts, gorging themselves with blood before they are discovered, as their bite is scarcely perceptible. They have a special taste for the nostrils of dogs, in which they live safely, and apparently happily, till the masters of. the animals can dislodge them with pincers — an operation which produces a loud yelp from the victim. One of the singular productions of the Indian jungles is poisonous honey. Mr. Dunlop once met with a large honeycomb attached to an overhanging rock, at which he
fired two bullets in such a manner that the lead, by spreading, might cut the comb from the rock. The comb came down with immense quantities of honey, which the coolies greedily devoured, speedily becoming absurdly drunk in consequence. The villagers who had looked on at the whole proceeding, closed it by observing that they only used the honey for medicine.
The most interesting part of Mr. Dunlop's book is that which refers to the Himalayas. On one occasion, shortly after the suppression of the mutiny, he made a journey across the mountains into Thibet. He had the good fortune to shoot a bunchowr, or wild yak—a sort of mountain ox, the existence of which in a wild state had previously been somewhat doubtful; and he made expeditions the descriptions of which must excite the envy and admiration of the members of the Alpine Club. Some of the passes are upwards of 18,000 feet in height, and are much used for traffic. The upper part of them is covered with perpetual snow, and fatal accidents constantly happen there. Large numbers of traders annually lose their lives in the passage, and as there is a superstitious notion that it is unlucky to meddle with their property, it lies there from year to year till it becomes worthless. Mr. Dunlop himself nearly lost his life on a pass called the Chou I loti. His party got upon a surface of snow which the coohcs considered too soft to venture upon! so they sat down and cried, and would have sat there till they were frozen to death, if Mr. Dunlop had not belabored them into activity with his alpcn-stock. On the Thibet side of the mountains he saw a good deal of a tribe of wandering traders, called the Ilunuias. They travel over enormous distances, living upon buck tea, which is "brought from China packed in lumps, which are composed of the coarsest leaves, twigs, seeds, etc., of the tea, pressed by weights into lumps, and sometimes rendered more adhesive by a slight admixture of the serum of sheep's blood." Upon this they can perform immense journeys for long periods of time. When cooked, it makes a kind of soup containing a great deal of nourishment. Mr. Dunlop gives many particulars about the cultivation of tea in the Himalayas, and the prospects which the large amount of unoccupied land, and the conditions on which it is let out by government, hold out for the profitable investment of capital. His calculation is that, with proper energy, it would be easy to make cent. j>er cent, per annum in the trade, and that this would leave the planter at leisure during the whole interval between September and April. Another opening which Mr. Duulop points out for trade is found in the Himalayan wool, which is called pushum, and is " of exquisite fineness, far surpassing in quality, though not in length of staple, any of the wools of Europe." It grows not only on the sheep, but on the shawl-goat and even the dogs and wolves. Mr. Dunlop considers that, as an article of commerce, it •would he as valuable as alpaca..
Notwithstanding his views as to the openings afforded by the Himalayas for commerce, Mr. Dunlop does not think that European colonization, even in the mountains would be possible. Ordinary laborers would be undersold by the natives, and ordinary agricultural operations are out of the 'question. Mr. Dunlop made some curious
1 observations on the habits of the hill tribes. Polyandry prevails amongst some of them, and he observed that, where this was the case, there was a great preponderance of 'male over female births. In one village he 1 found four hundred boys to one hundred and i twenty girls, though infanticide was unknown. In another village, where polygamy was practised, he found a surplus of female children. We must conclude our remarks on this curious and observant book by noticing Mr. Dunlop's statement that the plague prevails extensively in some villages of the Himalayas, and that he personally treated ! one case successfully by means of hydropathy.
"hide" Or "drive."—The question is a little difficult, and only to be solved by
"Ustis Quern penes arbitrium est et jas et norma lo
But you can scarcely say correctly " I am going to drive" unless you intend to take the reins, though you may " take a drive " whoever is on the box. Biding in a carriage is certainly obsolete. I once met a purist, who observed that it was a delightful swim down the Clyde in a steamboat. Ho was not a Scotchman, but a Kentishman, I believe. Invehitur is perhaps the Latin word your correspondent wants. A Frenchman "se promene a pied, a- cheval, en voiture," etc. Scotch people sometimes talk of getting a hurl in a coach. J. P. 0.
—Notes and Queries.
"Do You Know Db. Wright Op NorWich 1"—Having known the late Dr. Wright of Norwich many years, I am enabled to say, in answer to tho Query of E., that the doctor was very convivial, and also very apt to stop the bottle. Indeed so much so, that the above phrase was common in the circles which he frequented, and he himself used to refer to its applicability to himself with perfect good humor.
F. C. H.
Forty Years Ago a Freshman in like circumstances at Oxford was always asked, "Do you know Jenkins?" to which he generally replied, " What Jenkins?" Ho was again asked, "Jenkins of Worcester," or any other college. "No; what of him ?"—" Oh! poor fellow, it was a shocking thing, but yon know they hanged him ! "—" Hanged him ? *'—" Yes! they strung him up in the middle of a wine party."—" But what for ?"—" Why'for stopping the bottle?"
—Notes and Queries. J. P. O.
THE FUTURE OF THE FASHIONS. There was a time when girls wore hoops of
And with gray powder used to drug their hair, Bedaubed their cheeks with rouge: white lead,
Adding, to simulate complexions-fair: Whereof by contrast to enhance the grace, Specks of court-plaister decked the female face.
That fashion passed away, and then were worn Dresses whose skirts came scarce below the
knee, With waists girt round the shoulder-blades, and
Now pointed at the prior finery,
Short waists departed; Taste awhile prevailed
And ladies then again went draggle-tailed;
Paint, powder, patches, nasty and absurd,
They'd wear as well, if France but spoke the word.
Young bucks and beauties, ye who now deride
The reasonable dress of other days; When Time your forms shall have puffed out
or dried, Then on your present portraits youth will
gaze, And say what dowdies, frights, and guys you
were, With their more specious figures to compare.
Think, if you live till you are lean or fat,
with age, Your limbs have stiffened; feet grown broad
You may see other garments all the rage, Preposterous as even that attire Which you in full-length mirrors now admire. —Punch.
From The Press.
The Luck of Ladysmede. In Two Vols. London: \V. Blackwood and Sons.
"The Luck of Ladysmede " is reprinted from Elackwood'g Magazine, where it has al- j ready in its serial form, attracted marked attention. In his choice of an epoch the author has shown both discernment and daring. England under Richard the First was, preeminently, in that state of social chaos which gives to the invention of the historical novelist powers pretty well discretionary. Might and right, selfishness and enthusiasm, held divided empire over the sullen distracted land, and no incident could be too romantic, no act too adventurous, no character too exalte, to find a place in its possible annals. But, on the other hand, the ground was already so pre-pccupied as almost to deprive the satisfied imagination of all wish to see it otherwise encroached upon. "Ivanhoe" gleams across the dreary waste of intervening chivalrous romances with a clear brilliancy which threatens certain eclipse to all competitors j and it is very high praise to say that the " Luck of Ladysmede" enchains us with its lifelife pictures in spite of the surging reminiscences of Scott and the warning phantoms of James. "Ladysmede " is the dower of a fair orphan, the Lady Gladice Foliot, whose hand her guardian, Miles de Burgh, a fierce, violent, but daring character, such as the age must have plentifully produced, has promised to Sir Nicholas le Hardi, for certain considerations which must be learned from the book itself. This Sir Nicholas is a gay and handsome knight, just returned from Palestine with a rescript from Richard of the Lion Heart authorizing him to levy monies for the holy cause on all the religious houses of the kingdom. His gallant bearing, stately presence, and, above all, his cxhaustless anecdotes of crusading adventure, exercise considerable fascination on the Lady Gladice, and for a time her guardian's scheme promises to be crowned with unresisted success. But obstacles soon spring up. In the castle of the De Burgh lives scarce seen, a little boy, presumed to be the lord of the castle's ward. An Italian priest, who has special charge of this child, ultimately carries him off in secret, and places him under the protection of the good Abbot of Rivclsby. De Burgh, furious, demands the boy's restitution, and summons the recalcitrant abbot to answer for his conduct before the tribunal over which he himself presides as sheriff. Yielding to superior force, the ecclesiastic obeys the summons, but refuses, in virtue of the charters held by his abbey, to acknowledge the court's
jurisdiction. In the midst of the discussion hence provoked, William of Longchamp, the Regent, unexpectedly arrives, and calls the' whole case heforc his supreme tribunal. The main question at issue is De Burgh's authority over the child, and against his affirmation the Italian priest produces a lady, pale, worn, and yet beautiful, who announces herself as the little one's mother, and declares that his father, and her husband, is Sir Nicholas le Hardi. This revelation, of course, alters the relative position of all parties. De Burgh sees his projects about to be defeated; Sir Nicholas stands confessed a false and traitor knight, and Gladice turns from his suit with horror. But matters have gone too far for retreat, and the foiled intriguers determine to win by force what fraud has missed procuring them. Here the most exciting part of the plot begins, and for this —of which no brief sketch can give any adequate idea—we must again refer the reader to the book itself. All, of course, ends happily for those who merit happiness, and vice versa. The Lady Gladice is rescued by her uncle, William of Loiigchainp, from the perils which beset her, and marries her cousin, Waryn Foliot—who, at once intellectual and chivalrous, seems to typify the dawn of a higher order of civilization. Sir Nicholas le Hardi turns out to be even worse than he had seemed. Richard's rescript was a forgery, and the monies collected on it were destined for purposes of treason. The mysterious boy is not the son of Sir Nicholas, but of De Burgh's eldest brother, supposed to be dead but really living, and active under a disguise, in Gladice's defence. This child, therefore, is the true heir to the property, and hence the durance in which his traitorous uncle strove to keep him. One of the most conspicuous characters of the book is the Italian priest, Giacomo, whose complicity extends through the whole chain of its incidents, and who, introducing into the story an element more intellectually refined, helps us to a readier sympathy with the scenes and personages around. Giacomo, indeed, may possibly be got up a little too much in the modern style. The mysterious, subtle, accomplished, and unscrupulous Italian of the Radcliffe type scarcely belongs to the social phenomena of the twelfth century, and it may be doubted whether an ecclesiastic,of that period would be able to speak any language distinguishably "Italian." Waryn Foliot's extension of his chivalrous orgis over the half-savage and repulsively ugly wife of a serf, looks, too, rather anachronistic. Ivanhoe, it is true, is represented to us as doing battle for a Jewess,—but then, that Jewess was Rebecca! Hypercriticism, however,
would be ill-applied where so much conspicuous merit shines forth. The author of the "Luck of Ladysmede " ppssesses that most valuable element of creative power, objectivity, to a very rare degree. In this respect his book stands in conspicuous contrast with the great bulk of contemporary fiction. There is a local truthfulness in his coloring, a perfectly unstrained action and passion in
his various characters, spite of quaint phraseology and antique garb, which reminds us more directly of Scott,—not as an imitation, but as a parallel,—than any thing we ever remember to have met with. We should be greatly surprised if this really remarkable book does not establish a remarkable reputation.
Temples: Churches, Why so Called.— A correspondent has asked why the word temple is appropriated in Roman Catholic countries to the place in which Protestant worship is performed, and quotes the History of the Republic of Holland ofl"05, in illustration of his meaning. The Archduke Marinas alluded to in this quotation I suppose is he who was elected emperor in 1612. At that period the word was in common use, not simply by Protestants in Roman Catholic countries, but specially, and almost alone, by the "Reformed" as distinct from the Lutherans. For reasons which I can easier guess than lind stated, Calvin and his followers seem to have preferred the word teni/tle as the proper designation of a place of worship. Thus in the Institutes (lib. iii. cap. 20, sec. 30, cd. in French, 1562), Calvin says, "Now since God has ordained to all his people to pray in common, it is also required, that in order "to do this, there should be temples set apart," etc. So also in the Commentary on the Gospels (French cd., 1563), he says in the preface, which is dated 1555, tlmt at Zurich the refugees from Locarno were not only received and permitted to exercise their religion, " but also a temple was assigned them." The preference of Calvin was adopted by his followers, but the Lutherans retained the use of the word church. I pive an example from Musculus, who published his Loci Communes in 1560, of which I quote the English version (ed. 1563, fol. 254) :—
"It ngrceth better with the nature of the New Testament, that the place wherein the people vseth to repayra together, shonldc bee called the Churchc, than to geue it the magnilicall title of Tempels emonge Christian men."
The Calvinists seem to have called their places of worship temples because they called the congregation the cnurch, and wished to make a distinction. Another reason perhaps was that the Catholics termed the building a church. They remembered also that the Jewish sanctuary was called a temple. They knew too that the anci«nt church had applied the word temple to places of Christian worship. Examples of this may be found in Suicer, s. v. vabf. The lutcr Greeks adopted the word n n-'/m\ and the modern Greek church uses the word vaof of a portion of the church. Among the Latins the word templum seems at first to hare been distasteful,
but was afterwards nsed, as may be easily* shown; e.g., the Second Council of Nicea, can. "i. :—
"Therefore whatever temples (templa) have been consecrated without the relics of martyrs, in them wo ordain the deposition of relics with the usual prayers. And he who consecrates a temple (lemplum) without holy relics, let bim be deposed."
Among the Syrians the haiclo or temple was that elevated portion of the church which is elevated liy two or three steps, and accessible only to the priests. In a Jewish Synagogue the Aeries/ or temple is the body of the"building, just as the vai>f in the Greek churches, the heicei or temple, in the churches of Abyssinia, and the nave of churches among ourselves. In reference to this word nave, there seems to be good reason for believing that it etymologically signifies a temple; and rather comes from the Greek vaof than the Latin navis. Even the general term temnle has been consecrated among us to all lime by the genius of George Herbert.
These remarks have been made merely to show that the peculiar practice of our Reformed neighbors, is not peculiar, but in harmony with the customs of all churches and of all times. It is possible that the word chapel would have been adopted, but for the fact that its uses among the Roman Catholics are some of them very repulsive to Protestant feeling ; as, for instance, when it is applied to images inserted in the niche of a wall, or set up at the corner of a field, oftentimes from very superstitious motives.—Note* and Queries. B. H. C.
Thomas Fuller, M.D. — Who was the Thomas Fuller, M.D. to whom we owe the mass of proverbial philosophy contained! in
"Introductio ad Prudcntiam; or, Directions, Counsels, and Cautious. 12mo. 2 vols. 172627, and Gnomologia, Adagics, etc., etc. 12tno. 1732 ? "—Notes and Qftaies. J. O.
[Thomas Fuller was an English physician of some repute in the early part of the last century. He studied at Queen's College, Cambridge, where he took the degree of M.D. in 1681 ; after which he settled at Sevenoaks, in Kent, and died there on Sept. 17, 1734, in the eighty-first year of his age.—Nichols' Literary Ante. i. 370.