40 THE OUT-STATION; OR, 



Our cheroots are excellent our " pocket-pistol" 

 not likely to be exhausted and our train of thought 

 the most amiable possibly to be imagined. 



Who could profane " the solemn silence of that 

 hour," by the explosion of villanous saltpetre? 

 Who, in this "stillness that leaves room for the 

 full soul to open all itself," could send to an untimely 

 grave even the minutest of Heaven's 



By Jove ! was that a squeak ? Yes ! Hark ! 

 another, and another, and another ! here they come ! 

 hip ! hip ! (not loud but deep) hurrah ! 



Ay, borne on the wings of one of those airy gusts 

 that fitfully eddy down the miniature valleys in the 

 jungle, comes the first quaint squeak of piggy on his 

 pilgrimage ! 



Louder and louder swells the chorus! Grunts, 

 such only as can issue from porkers starving, or 

 deeply insulted, become fearfully distinct ; until, at a 

 swing trot, about two hundred fine savage swine 

 hog, sow, and progeny promiscuously blended burst 

 through the opening where we have been expecting 

 them on to the plain, and appear at one coup d'ceil 

 before us. 



It is as light as day ; and the animals in the moon- 

 light look as white as if they had a prognostication of 

 the fate that awaited them. 



Now they slacken their speed, and at once set about 

 the business of the night viz., grubbing. 



We crawl on in the rear, about twenty yards 

 astern ; then dropping quietly on one knee, pour in 



