212 Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



start with, and that is no doubt why so many are content 

 to moon along in the wake of their trackers, coming to 

 the front only when the game has been found. 



The best time of year for a trip after the buffalo of 

 these parts is undoubtedly at the mirrig, cr earliest rains-, 

 although there are certain grave disadvantages which 

 often preclude one from taking advantage of this time of 

 year, such as, to take but one of them, the difficulty of 

 returning to civilization once the flood-gates of the monsoon 

 are fully opened and rivers brimming full. When the 

 first showers fall, sending the released tiger, bear, deer 

 and other wild animals wandering far and wide without 

 anxiety as to water and shade, the buifalo ceases his 

 peregrinations of the open season, and, sometimes re-united 

 in considerable herds, affects the comfortable life on open 

 grass and glade land. Far from the river he may be. 

 What matter ! There are now innumerable pools and 

 marshy depressions in this region that resound to the 

 luxurious squelching of his huge wallowing carcase and the 

 profound blowing and puffing of a monster at ease. This 

 is the season of his loves. Here and there the soft clayey 

 ground will be found ploughed and furrowed in all direc- 

 tions. Perhaps a ponderous strife uprooted those young 

 saplings. In the distance a low deep note brings us to a 

 sudden halt ; the trees are all adrip with the last short 

 shower ; and as the early sun touches the jungle it glitters 

 with millions of faceted gems. 



At the end of a long grassy ride a shower of diamonds 

 falls sparkling down, and a tree-top is seen quivering 

 which can scarcely be the breeze. Wait ! Hark ! Did you 

 hear that splashing and that " click-clack ?" What is it 

 but the huge hoofs of our Bubalus, sucking at the mire as 

 he slowly paces forward. And then a great grey-blue 



