other species than his own. From causes like these, he is far more unwelcome than fifty of his brethren in their social condition. The coolies knew this, and fled for shelter; and it was well they did so, for they had not been gone many seconds when the elephant was in amongst the tubs, crushing them to atoms.

The foraging party, who had gone forth in quest of fuel, etc., quite ignorant of all that had transpired, were returning with water and other necessaries for cooking their rice, when, to their alarm and dismay, they suddenly came upon a sight that made their blood almost congeal in their veins. The ground before them was literally strewed with rags and pieces of sugar-candy tubs, and what they in their fevered imagination mistook for the mangled remains of their companions, whilst in the centre stood little hillocks of sugar-candy, which were being eagerly devoured by the elephant, whose every mouthful consisted of about as much as would fill an ordinary sized jar. He was too much engrossed with his rare and luxurious repast to take the smallest notice of the horrified coolies, who were glaring at these cool proceedings from behind some bushes not many yards in front of the elephant.

Sweetlips, having finished his repast, greatly to the discomfiture of expectant troops of monkeys, that from the loftier branches of the trees were chattering and screaming forth their disapproval of the whole proceeding, gave evidence of his satisfaction by another mighty trumpeting, the terror of which lent lightning to the heels of the unhappy coolies, who fled to Manintoddy for succour, and returned to the spot accompanied by the officer and some sepoys of the detachment-the whereabouts being clearly indicated by the débris of the feast. They were unsuccessful, however, in their search. For years afterwards this particular spot was haunted by Sweetlips, who managed to elude the vigilance of whole villages bent upon his destruction; and such was the terror instilled by his vicinity, that travellers were compelled to take a longer and circuitous route to avoid the elephant's much-frequented beat.

At length Mr. Sweetlips fell into his own trap, and became the victim of his outrageous temper. His fate was as follows. Lieutenant , of the Madras cavalry, a short and very corpulent man, was proceeding from Bangalore, where his regiment was stationed, to the Neilgherry hills, on sick certificate. Much to his astonishment one day, while passing through the jungle in the vicinity of this spot, and whilst wholly unconscious of any lurking danger, his palanquin bearers, who were shuffling along at a sleepy pace, without any apparent motive or the least warning, suddenly flung the palanquin from their shoulders, flying in every direction in the greatest consternation. The astonished subaltern had barely time to scramble out of the palanquin and follow their judicious example, when the heavy foot of the elephant had crushed his conveyance into minute particles. Away ran poor F as

fast as his stout little legs would carry him, and away went the infuriated animal in full chase after him. The odds were unequal. F began to lose breath and slacken his pace, while the elephant gained ground upon him every instant.

The only chance left was to dodge the huge creature in and out of the forest and behind trees. This plan the poor lieutenant pursued, and at length the couple came upon a stately old banian, whose trunk scarcely a dozen men standing at arm's length could encircle. Round this patriarch of the forest for full a quarter of an hour did poor Fevade the furious charges of the elephant.

Sweetlips getting tired of this kind of work resorted to artifice, and pretending to trot away from the tree, wheeled suddenly round upon the alarmed subaltern, who was peeping anxiously round a corner, and making one furious charge, embedded his huge tusks so firmly into the wood as to completely paralyse his own strength. There stood the huge monster, fury darting from his bright small eyes as he vainly endeavoured to move his trunk, now jammed in between his head and the tree, and writhing like a mountain shook by an earthquake in his futile endeavours to withdraw his tusks from their self-imposed thraldom. It is needless to say that F did not stop long to watch the manoeuvres of the elephant. He fled to the main road, and happily encountering some armed villagers, he escorted them to the spot, which was easily indicated by the roaring of the enraged animal. When they arrived, Master Sweetlips was very soon despatched by a succession of shots. The tree, however, was obliged to be cut down before the valuable ivory tusks could be dislodged, and Lieutenant F-purchased them of the natives at rather an exorbitant rate, keeping them as a memento of this his most perilous adventure. Thus fell the terror of the jungle, betrayed into the power of his enemies through the very strength and beauty of what he doubtless vaunted himself upon.

Apropos of this adventure, we may recount what happened to an intimate friend and indeed connexion of our own. Mr. C―― had been appointed zillah judge at Tellicherry, and accompanied by the ladies of his family, (who travelled in palanquins, he himself being on horseback,) he was proceeding through the jungle en route to his new station. One fine morning, he suffered his horse to diverge from the right path for a few minutes, to crop a few mouthfuls of dainty-looking grass. Mr. C was a sportsman, and was on this occas sion accompanied by several of his dogs. The latter soon started a hare from its lair, and reckless of consequences, and forgetful of the dangers of the neighbourhood, away went C, horse and dogs, full speed after poor puss. Winding about in the jungle, they soon lost all tracks of the road; until recollecting, too late, the risk he incurred, our friend whistled off his dogs, and endeavoured, trusting to their sagacity, to come upon the track of men again. The dogs found a track and followed it up, and C quite contented that all was right, rode leisurely after them through the dense and almost impenetrable jungle. Emerging suddenly into sunlight, he came upon a vast open space, and here not less than from twenty to thirty elephants were busily occupied in tearing off huge branches of trees, the leaves of which they were eagerly devouring. was a noble animal of a fine Arab breed, and no sooner did he catch sight of his ugly neighbours than he cocked up his ears and galloped full speed

His horse

No. 58.

PRICE .

{ STAMPED 2d.

thankfulness with the poor inhabitants that they had lost so few in their frequent encounters with the enemy. Old Gaston said that God and his great rocks protected them; but the numbers of the defenders were small, and the scarcity of bread did not increase their strength. Worse than all, their ammunition was growing scarce too, though economised and augmented in every possible way. The hardy women of the hills were no weak incumbrances in this time of straits. Trained to industry, they devised a thousand expedients for eking out their resources; and the more active went up in small companies to their mountain homes, laid snares for wild birds and rabbits, collected all manner of herbs and earthnuts, their great hope being that the enemy might not think of coming so far across the hills, till the crops they left growing were ripe and could be gathered into the valley. The Constants were often in these expeditions. They were so safe and successful-not to speak of their necessity-that Renee sometimes went alone, as the early grapes ripened in their vineyard, and the shalots and Savoy cabbages grew large in their cottage garden.

Once, at the midsummer time, she had taken a solitary journey of the kind, leaving Louisin at home, where the mountain friends still lived near neighbours in four huts, built, after the fashion of Brother Pietro's, in a grassy corner shaded by a huge overhanging rock. Renee was more than ordinarily successful. The light pannier with which she climbed the mountain was filled, but sunset was on the glaciers when the girl began to descend, and the solemn shadow of a breezeless summer night lay on the forest when she reached it.

The wood-owls were hooting far away, and the faint light of a new moon glimmered fitfully through the tall pines. Renee was not given to nightly terrors; but her nerve was sorely tried, as on entering an open glade she found herself suddenly surrounded by a throng of black figures with long tangled beards and matted hair.

"Who, and what are you?" said Renee, collecting all her mental strength, after the first shock of surprise was over.

66

We," said one at her very elbow, in a hoarse whisper we are the wild friars of Provence, whom people call the black strangers. Who are you? and where do you go so late P"

My name is Renee Constant, and I come from the Pra del Torre for these poor provisions in my pannier."

"Constant !" said the speaker in a more humanlike voice; "are ye aught of kin to Jacob Constant, who once dwelt somewhere on these mountains ?"

"I am his daughter," said Renee. "My father has long entered into everlasting rest. Tell me, are you men of this world or not ?"

"My girl," said the stranger, "we are, or rather were, men of Provence. Our fathers have been herdsmen, shepherds, and worshippers of God on the great plains that border Languedoc since the last prince reigned in Arles. We held by the old necessarian faith, and were in some sort Vaudois. Jacob Constant preached to us in his missions, but the pope would not let us rest. He set the priests and soldiers of France upon us. There was Greek blood in our veins, and all men know the wars of the

Camisards. Our villages are known by grassy mounds upon the plains, our churches are charred ruins with bones strewn about them. There is not a man of us on whom the Inquisition has not set a price. We have lost homes, friends, wives, and children; but we have kept our weapons, and they are at the service of all who war with Rome. As to our garb, it was a chance which some poor naked brethren took to clothe themselves when the convent of St. Dominick, the inquisitor, was razed to the ground. The black friars had been busiest on our plains, and we wear it for their sakes, striving hard to be equal with them in mischief; but they still keep before us. These men call me captain, and others Robert the Provençal. Now, girl, show us the way to the Pra.”*

While he spoke, Renee's eye had grown accustomed in some degree to the strange figures round her. They were indeed men of fierce and fearful aspect, whom superstitious minds might well mistake for the denizens of another world; and their black garb, which resembled that of the dominican friars, heightened the illusion. The Camisards, whose relentless persecution and terrible retaliations were so long the curse of southern France, were the remnant of an ancient sect of Provence and Languedoc, supposed to be of Greek origin, and never subject to the authority of Rome. The Vaudois of the Alps did not reckon them orthodox, and Romish writers branded them as Manicheans, on account of some wild notions concerning free-will and necessity, caught by venturing too far into that bottomless question, the origin of evil. Their rejection of papal authority, and contempt of the mass and confessional, were, however, the real causes of their total extermination by the troops of France and the Inquisition. The company whom Renee had met were men who had lived like the wolf and wild-cat, till their ways and tempers became almost the same. Their leader was dark and spare, and had a wild fire in his black eyes. Of his age, birth, or parentage nothing was known. Some said he was a seigneur's son, and some a shepherd's; but a better captain of outlaws never marshalled his troop on waste or wold, nor a fiercer in fight or more skilful in stratagem, than Robert the Provençal.

We are friends to you and yours," he said, as Renee paused to think, "and have come across these hills on purpose to find your valley, because the throng of your people are there, and the popish host press hard upon them."

Under other circumstances Renee would have hesitated on the point of guiding those fierce strangers to her people's citadel. They had indeed little likeness to the pious patient Vaudois, but Victor had told her that morning that there were not three rounds of ammunition among them. The

*Startling as this incident appears, Robert the Provençal and the troop of the black friars are stated to have both their originals in history-a tradition respecting the latter being still preserved. Although the name Camisards is generally applied to the sect against whom the cruel exterminating wars of Louis XIV were waged a few years later than the date of our story; yet, from a very early period, the body under a different name existed. Many of them appear to have been worthy men, but a tinge of fanaticism was mingled with others, who, like those mentioned in our narrative, were driven to des peration by cruel usage, their only religious principle consistg in a hatred of Rome, and a desire to retaliate for its atrocities by actions of a similar character.-[ED.

young children were pining away for want in the valley, and thankful for the unlooked-for help, she at once led their march through the forest. "Thou art a brave guide, girl," said Robert, who had kept close by her side, as, after traversing gorge and glade, they descended on the rocks overhanging the valley. There a path between two massive crags led to a sort of natural stair, with steps from three to seven feet high, down which the mountaineers were accustomed to swing themselves by the help of strong ropes fastened to the rocks above and to a great chestnut tree below. It was a sheltered spot, for the shadow of mountain and forest lay upon it, but from thence the whole valley and its neighbourhood could be distinctly seen. Renee's heart beat quickly as she approached, for there were sounds of conflict in the air, and the sight almost left her eyes when she perceived, through din and smoke and flashing lights, that the Pra was attacked on pass and bastion, and that the enemy had brought a great eulverin against the latter. Robert stood gazing like her, but not bewildered. That is an earthwork," said he, pointing to the bastion. "The culverin cannot make much impression on it for an hour. Follow me, brothers, but keep close in the shadow; there are loose rocks yonder above the pass sufficient to crush half the armies at the pope's command and you, girl, descend and tell your people to hold out, if they can, but fifteen minutes more."

66

Renee waited not for a second order. She knew her people were sore pressed, for from the height she had seen them waver at every point, and their fire had ceased.

"Friends! friends!" she cried, as she swung down, "courage yet for one quarter of an hour; there is help at hand!"

Renee's voice was strained to the highest pitch, and a hundred more took up the joyful news. It reached Humbert and his band where they stood, half yielding to dejection and not knowing what to do, as the great culverin buried its balls in the bastion.

deadly

66

"Good news indeed," said Victor to Gueslin, where they stood in the pass. My last shot is fired; but my sister says it, and it must be true. Now, Gueslin, stand fast by me, and we will engage them hand to hand," he continued, as the regiment of Count Amadeus, who had boasted that they "would push the heretics out of this world with their pikes," poured on them, shouting, "Death to the barbetti!" One after another of these cruel men fell before the young mountaineers, but numbers are strong, and the pikes would do their work. Slowly the Alpine men gave back before that pressure, as the mass came on; for, as is well known to those familiar with the history of the period, Count Amadeus had promised five hundred golden crowns to him who first set foot in the valley, and the chief inquisitor had added, "Perpetual absolution." A tall soldier of fortune from the Milanese hoped to win those prizes. He had struck down Gueslin, and Victor's weapon rang harmless on his iron head-piece, when from the cliffs above there came a shrill shout of "Room for the Provençals!" and a sound of smothered broken cries went up as the rocks, which earthquake and avalanche had scattered there for centuries, thun

dered down on the merciless invaders wedged in the gorge below. It seemed so like a miracle that for some moments the Vaudois scarcely comprehended that they were saved. The enemy without paused in astonishment, but a burst of red light shooting up from a rocky peak revealed to them the black figures rushing along the cliffs, and preparing to hurl yet greater rocks on the soldiers. That sight completed their panic. The troops assembled at the pass fled in all directions, crying out, "The black strangers!" while the Provençals poured down upon them in the lower defiles with a speed which seemed supernatural, and high above the tumult was heard the deep voice of the leader urging on his men.

Victories are sometimes dangerous. The fiery spirit of Humbert Renaud had long chafed at his inactive position at the bastion; but no sooner did he and his company see the unexpected rescue, than, forgetting the danger of their own post, they dashed down the valley, carrying all before them over the choked pass and after the flying soldiers. In vain Victor tried to recall them. In vain poor Gueslin bound a handkerchief round his temples, which had been sorely wounded, and hurried to the bastion. A breach was already opened, and the valley might have been won, but that their reinforcement had struck the enemy with confusion. They stood gazing in the direction of the pursuit, and Robert, turning with a small party of his Provençals into one of the lower defiles which his practised eye discovered to be a bye-way to the glen, crossed its bounding ridge of rock, and fell on the cannoniers. The approach of the Black Strangers was too much for them. They fled to Angrogna without striking a blow, leaving behind the culverin with all its appurtenances, of which Gueslin took immediate possession. The gunnery of those days was not like that of ours-a favourable circumstance doubtless for the Vaudois; but the long iron tube slung on thick bands of leather, by which it was raised or lowered, the skin sacks of powder, and the heavy chest of ball, were great gains to the poor remnant, without provisions, almost without arms, and besieged by the whole army of their sovereign. That night's victory was complete. Vaudois and Provençal returned loaded with weapons, ammunition, and provisions from wagons and outposts which the enemy abandoned in their flight, and for leagues round the Pra the ground was all their own.

Morning was on the mountains when, with joyful though weary hearts, the Vaudois assembled in the old church of the Pra to give thanks to the God of providence. Man, woman, and child were there; mothers with infants in their arms, aged men, young girls, and warriors with the stains of the fight upon them. The peril had been great, and the deliverance signal. Even the Provençals, though given more to the dogmas of their creed than to the practice of piety, caught the thanksgiving spirit, and after their own wild fashion clashed their arms in concert with the psalm, “ Oh give praise to the Lord, for he hath done wonders. His right hand and his holy arm hath gotten him the victory." The rocks rang to the strain, and the mountain echoes prolonged it. Some said that Gianavello, then leading his men to the storming of Villaro, bid them be of good courage, for God had