SIRCL NEELCOOND. GAIRSAPPA. 115 



of southern India, with their countless 

 droves of oxen; clouds of white dust, 

 and the sound of many bells, and the 

 shouts of drovers announce their ap- 

 proach. It is evening, and they are 

 nearing their camping ground, which is 

 not far from the green sward on which 

 my tents are pitched, on the brow of 

 the ghaut at Neelcoond. The state- 

 liest oxen of the drove come first, mov- 

 ing slowly between vast bales of cotton ; 

 black tassels hang at the base of their 

 horns, and necklaces of bright brass 

 knobs suspend white shells from their 

 necks. Beasts of less mark follow, and 

 beside them at intervals come stalwart 

 gipsy-looking drovers, staff in hand, 

 attended by large, powerful dogs, not 

 unlike Scotch collies of the larger breed. 



