A SPORTING PARSON. 231 



the bank of the pit with his tusks, and made his escape in a few hours, as 

 it was only seven feet deep, but had I known how he was circumstanced of 

 course I would not have fired at him. It was a strange combination of acci- 

 dents, the elephant's falling into the pit to begin with, and his meeting his 

 death at my hands in such an untoward manner. I could but agree with 

 Jaffer's view of the case, that it was his hismut, or fate. 



We had a fine example upon this occasion of the effects of fear — the 

 power of the senses over the physical faculties. One Kurraba, who was 

 much afraid of elephants, peered into the pit with a nervous air which 

 amused my gun-bearers, and Bettay, who was standing near, gave him 

 a sudden push into it and on to the dead elephant. The Kurraba's fear 

 knew no bounds. He rushed at the most difficult side of the pit, attempted 

 to scramble up, fell back when he was just at the top, tried again, falling 

 down upon the elephant as before, and in his desperation I believe would 

 not have succeeded in the next five minutes, when one instant's coolness 

 would have released him. He screamed as if he were possessed, and when 

 some one hauled him out he ran away for fifty yards before stopping. This 

 little incident, from its suddenness and ridiculousness, caused much amuse- 

 ment, and the Kurraba was made the butt of a good many pleasantries for 

 the rest of the day. 



I once encountered a rather unexpected fellow-sportsman in the hunting- 

 field. My tent was pitched at Poonjoor, in the middle of a fine open plain, 

 on the bank of the Honhollay river. As I rode into camp on my arrival I 

 observed three small tents, like gipsies' wigwams, half hidden amongst the 

 dense and rank undergrowth on the edge of the jungle bordering the plain. 

 On inquiry I was informed that these more picturesque than convenient 

 tenements belonged to a clergyman and two half-caste police inspectors who 

 were chaperoning his reverence on a shooting expedition. They were from 

 the Madras district of Coimbatore, which runs close to Poonjoor. Poonjoor 

 was an unfrequented spot, and I was surprised* that any one should have 

 found their way there but myself ; nor was my astonishment lessened when 

 I learnt that the reverend gentleman and his assistants had shot an elephant 

 the day before, and were now gone forth to bring in his tusks ! This was 

 more than a sporting layman could bear with equanimity, particularly as 

 elephant-shooting was prohibited in Mysore, and we who lived in the country 

 were obliged to content ourselves with very little of it. I therefore felt this 

 poaching and clerical outrage quite a personal grievance. 



As I was enjoying the beauty of the scenery around camp half an hour 

 before sunset, and forming hopes of the morrow's sport, watching the chang- 

 ing light on the cliffs before me, and upon the smooth and rounded grass- 



