or friendship, and no government, and do admirably without it; and their household relations appear to be tenderly and honorably maintained. There is neither wealth nor poverty among them; nature gives them all enough; and the climate they live in is health and wealth combined.

The cocoa-nut and fish diet tried Mr. Lamont severely for a time, but he grew accustomed to it. All the tribes loved him, all the children particularly, and he soon learned to make himself intelligible to them. The island dialects are soft, and the voices, especially the women's, trainantes, and the gentle manners of the people, undemonstrative, except in grief, which they express with frantic energy. The great chief," Mahanta, who had been very kind to Lamont, died, and he went to visit Ocura, his widow, who had been his favorite wife. The story of the visit is very touching of course it is very savage. "When I spoke of Mahanta's goodness and friendship for me, she burst into a paroxysm of grief; and with piercing shrieks, ran toward her own house, from which we afterward heard moaning and wailing, and occasional bursts of grief; and at last some wilder screams mingled with several severe blows; then suddenly all was still. Even the loquacious natives, who had gathered round me, were silent for once. On entering the house, we found the graceful form of the wretched Ocura stretched senseless beside a cocoa-nut log, the blood disfiguring her deathlike features. She had beaten her head against the fallen tree until she had dropped senseless beside it, and it was with much difficulty that she was restored." The friendly and family relations which Mr. Lamont formed with the islanders made his captivity endurable; but his state of mind was extremely painful, notwithstanding; and occasionally a maddening tide of recollections would surge up, and he would feel his life almost impossible to bear. Still, he hoped, and he drove despondency away by active occupation.

The native fishing-parties interested him, and he joined them frequently. Immense excitement prevails on these occasions. The scene of operations is the lagoons; the implements, bamboo branches and bag-nets. "With their

long hair streaming, and their eyes gleaming with excitement, I saw them. diving into the hollow curve of the breakers, soon to appear again some distance off beyond the force of the waves. Men, women, and children alike fearlessly plunged beneath the foam, seemingly as much at home as on land. The multitude in the sea, at first scattered over a considerable extent, now began to concentrate toward a point, not only keeping up an incessant noise with the voice, but jumping half-way out of the water, and as they descended, striking their elbows to their sides, and clapping their hands, producing a report like a pistol-shot. I now observed shoals of flying fish skimming the water in terror in every direction, often rising beyond the nets of the circle of men, who raised their arms to catch them, and often escaping in their flight the baskets of the outer guard of women and children. These flying fish are about the size of herrings. A certain quantity is laid aside as a sacrifice to the spirit, who, however, does not appear to claim it. It is then divided among the men, women not being permitted to touch the sacred food. Only of this ideal kind is the oppression practised toward women among the islanders. In this respect, as in almost every other, they contrast favorably with all the savages whose acquaintance we have had the pleasure of making so extensively of late years.

When at length a ship, the John Appleton, whaler, of New Bedford, came in sight of the beautiful cluster of islands, and the hour of Mr. Lamont's deliverance was come, the natives opposed his departure clamorously, even menacingly. They could not comprehend why he should wish to leave them; all the ties which were but wearisome shams to him, were dear realities to the simple creatures. It is painful to think that he left them at the last the memory of threats and violence.

Leisure Hours.

ELEPHANT HUNTING IN SOUTH AFRICA.

BY T. BAINES, F.R.G.S.

THE graphic reports in the newspapers lately, of the Duke of Edinburgh's sport in South Africa, have re

called my own humble experiences on the same field. Some points relating to the elephant in South Africa may interest naturalists as well as sportsmen.

The elephant, once common in South Africa, down to the mountains of the Cape, has since the commencement of the colony been gradually driven backward before the deadly fire-arms of the European hunters; till-except in a few localities, where it may not be hunted without special permission-it is no longer to be met with in sufficient numbers to repay the cost of a hunting trip, unless sought farther and farther every year in the interior. The native methods of hunting, whether by pitfall, by the chase of single animals, or even by battue, unless fire is used, seem not much to alarm the survivors; nor would the European, chasing them fairly with horse and rifle, soon drive the elephant from its favorite haunts. But when the hunter can no longer repay the cost of his outfit in this manner, and is obliged to waylay the animals by night at their drinking-places, the sense of insecurity comes over them, which in a short time makes them retire to more distant and less persecuted districts.

The hunter with his wagons equipped for the season's journey, like ships for a long voyage, with oxen numerous enough to supply the place of those killed by the tsetse, or poisonous fly, and as many horses as he can afford, to allow for losses by sickness, or casualties, or exhaustion in the chase, and with, generally, articles of barter, to fill up his cargo by purchase from the natives, reaches the country he has chosen for his hunting ground, and, having secured the friendship of the Chief, or the confidence of the scattered natives, who flock readily to his wagons as soon as the object of his journey is made known, commences operations.

Scouts are sent out on all sides, and reports of spoor, or tracks, or of the most probable localities, are brought to him. Choosing those of the males as bearing the largest ivory, he follows, tracking them patiently for hours, sometimes for days, until he comes up with them and gives chase. The bull with the finest tusks is, if possible, selected, and by persevering efforts chased out and separated from the herd, each horse

man, if there be more than one, choosing in turn his own victim, and not interfering with his comrades, unless it may be necessary to give them help.

Sometimes the successful shot is soon obtained. The after part of the lower lobe of the immense ear marks the deathspot, in which, if the ball strikes fairly, it either breaks the bones of the shoulder, or, missing them, passes into the heart or other vital organs. If possible the fire should be delivered when the fore leg of the elephant is thrown forward, as the skin is then more tightly stretched, and the thinner parts behind the shoulder more exposed. An experienced hunter will know at once whether the wound is sufficient to kill or disable the animal. Without loss of time he will chase and kill another, or perhaps a third-as one of my friend McCabe's hunters, Christian Harmse, has, I believe, frequently done coming back again to take up the spoor and kill the first, if not already dead.

Sometimes the chase is long and arduous, and continues till the tired elephant resorts to the last expedient, of inserting his trunk into his mouth and drawing water from his stomach to refresh himself by throwing it over his skin; when, if the horse be not equally exhausted, his pursuer knows the chase is near its hoped for termination. Sometimes, instead of fleeing, the elephant turns upon its persecutor, and, with shrill and angry scream, uplifted trunk, and wide-extended ears, charges furiously. If the horse be already in motion, the hunter may urge him on yet more swiftly, and escape; but if not, terror may seize him at that dreadful scream, and, paralyzed in every limb, he may stand trembling and unable even to make an effort for his safety. Perhaps the rider, throwing himself off, may escape by flight, or he may even shoot the furious animal while it wreaks its vengeance on the helpless steed. Sometimes, before this happens, a daring comrade may ride between him and the elephant, and draw the pursuit upon himself, trusting to the imperilled hunter to recover the command of his horse, and come as soon as possible to his aid; or there is a chance, although a small one when such fury is excited, that the elephant may swerve and pass to either side.

Sometimes the hunter has to try the

endurance of his horse in a fair full flight; and many are the tales I have heard of hair-breadth escapes when the pursuing elephant, determined upon vengeance, has put forth his utmost speed, and the fugitive has at last gained ground enough to dismount and shoot his pursuer as he came up, or was fortunate enough to lead him past a comrade, ready with deliberate aim to bring him down. Sometimes, from loss of horses or the retreat of the herds into the "fly country," they must be followed on foot, and this is weary work. McCabe told me that once he and half-a-dozen friends had followed spoor all day, and had brought down their elephant by a running fusilade. Unable to move another step, the exhausted hunters leaned against the carcass, and thrust their fingers into the bullet-holes to ascertain by the size of the orifice whose gun had given the fatal wound. While thus engaged the elephant planted one huge foot upon the earth and raised himself suddenly in their midst. Their activity was restored marvellously. They radiated in all directions, some catching up the guns which they had been too wearied even to reload; only one was ready to fire, when McCabe noticed that the elephant's eyes were closing, and that he was beginning again to sink in death.

Many persons hearing of the number of animals killed by hunters in Africa, are apt to imagine them guilty of coldblooded and useless slaughter. This is at times too true; but it may be taken as a general rule that comparatively few animals are killed wastefully by Europeans. The professional hunter shoots for the ivory, and will not, except in cases of need, kill anything but a "tusker," lest the natives who follow him should content themselves with the flesh and neglect to lead him to the animals he seeks. Sometimes he shoots more than they can consume, and finds them too indolent to cut it up and dry it; but more frequently it is a work of labor to keep the supply of meat up to the demand. The remote colonist, or the emigrant Dutch boor of the interior, knows too well the value of ammunition to throw it away wastefully. He goes out to supply his homestead; every animal he is able to shoot is carefully brought home, and the "huisvrow"

exults in the prowess of her "man" if she can point to nine or ten "wilde beestes" or "bles boks" hanging in her larder. The true sportsman, who, like Captain Harris, and many others, is a naturalist, a geographer, and an artist, has surely an object in view sufficient to justify him in rejoicing in his victory, when, after an arduous chase or exciting conflict, some mighty animal, seen perhaps for the first time, lies prostrate at his feet. Even where the higher qualifications I have named are wanting, the risk incurred is made the pretext to give the chase the character of fair play, and redeem it from the imputation of anything like cold-blooded slaughter. With the wasteful shooting of numbers, for the mere purpose of making a bag, I have no sympathy whatever.

Iu countries where elephants are less plentiful, low walls of stone are built by the water, or pits, to conceal the hunters; or trenches ten feet long are dug, the middle being covered with stout logs that an elephant may pass over without breaking, and, well concealed by earth thrown over them, the ends are left open. Here the hunters watch or sleep by turn, each with one or more spare rifles lying beside him, till the animals approach to drink; when, from a few yards, or it may be only a few feet of distance, the deadly streak of fire flashes upward from the earth, and the creature falls either upon the spot, or retires to die at a short distance. By these or other modes of hunting, or by purchase from natives who have learned the use of fire-arms, the cargo of ivory is at length completed, and the hunter turns homeward to realize in Graham's Town, or other frontier markets, or in the Cape itself, the hard-earned reward of his labor.

SKETCH OF MICHAEL FARADAY.

As an embellishment of this number of the ECLECTIC MAGAZINE, our readers will find a fine portrait of an eminent man of science. He was great in the department of science. He was a good man. His name will long live among men of renown in the fields of science. For the particulars in the life of Professor Faraday, we beg to point our readers to the January number of the ECLECTIC, 1868, p. 61, for an account of his personal history and labors.

They speak of the storm-worn barriers-
Of the dark and dismal caves,
Where the loud waves meet the echces,
And the wild wind wilder raves-
Of the hurricane madly sweeping
O'er the ocean swelling dark,
And striking down with his rushing wing
The pride of the struggling bark.

Of its thousand voices, mocking

And drowning the words of prayerWhile they mingle the shriek of anguish With the curse of wild despair. But it speaks of Him who setteth To the mighty deep its bound, And who with a zone of waters, Hath girdled the earth around.

Go, when the tempest swelleth,

When the billows rush, and roar: Bid them yield to thee, their monarch, Then bow, and His might adore. They speak in their calm, quiet beauty, Of Him whom the waves obey'dWhose voice hush'd the winds to silence, When trembling disciples pray'd.

SACRED VOWS.

I STAND alone by the river's way,
And I hear its silver tone,

And my thoughts, with its pleasant voice,
Go flowing up and down.

In dreams I stand in a shady place,
Where ferns and violets grow,
Where the nodding trees are whispering
In murmurs soft and low.

In dreams I look on an angel face,
And a pleasant hand I feel,
While the bluebells and anemones
Ring out a wedding peal.

And together there, in the quiet dusk,
'Neath a dome of heaven's blue,
We make our vows. like sacred vows,

To be patient, fond, and true.

The place is like a holy place,

As the old-world chapel halls, And the perfume of the flower-bells Like the odor of incense falls.

And I kiss her hand with a reverent love,
As the Catholics of old

Have kissed the holy relics laid
On altars, rich with gold.

And I make a vow, in my earnest love,
That so dear she is to me,

That I will love no other love
Through all eternity.

She never stands by the river, now, Beneath the fields of blue,

And I know no more her tender love, So patient, fond, and true.

THE sun went down on the ocean drear:
'Twas the last sunset of the fourteenth year,
Since first, for bleak Northumbrian snows,
Saint Cuthbert quitted "fair Melrose."
Thro' those long years, by night and day,
The saint had striven to point the way
So rarely found, more rarely passed,
Whereon the Cross its shadow cast.

He fled, the abbot of Holy Isle,

From the monkish band and the sacred pile:
He fled, with naught but the faith enshrined
In his heaven-taught soul and his guileless mind,
Away o'er the face of the stormy sea,
Alone at last with his God to be!

No footstep gave to the world a trace
Of the path he took to his resting-place:
"Twas a lone, lone rock, that reared its crest
From the sea-girt lair of its ocean-nest;
The cliffs rose black on the seaman's view,
Where gleamed the wings of the white sea-mew,