forgotten a service of six years, and do you intend to kill the man who has fed you so long?” That the beast seemed to recollect his voice and services, and became, at once, quiet and docile—­“that had he not so called out, and reminded the animal of his long services, he thought he should have been killed; that the driver came, armed with a spear, and showed himself more angry than afraid, as the safest plan in such cases.”

Dangerous as the calling of the elephant-driver is, that of the snake-keepers, in the King’s service, seems still greater.  He has two or three very expert men of this kind, whose duty it is to bring him the snakes, when disposed to look at them, and see the effects of their poison on animals.  They handle the most venomous, with apparently as much carelessness as other men handle fighting-cocks or quail.  When bitten, as they sometimes are, they instantly cut into the part, and suck out the poison, or get their companions to suck it out when they can’t reach the part with their own mouths.  But they depend chiefly upon their wonderful dexterity in warding off the stoops or blows of the snakes, as they twist them round their necks and limbs with seeming carelessness.  While they are doing so, the eye of the spectator can hardily detect the stoops of the one and the guards of the other.  After playing in this way with the most venomous snakes, they apply them to the animals.  Elephants have died from their bites in a few hours—­smaller animals sooner.  I have never, myself, seen the experiments, but any one may see them at the palace.  Elephants and the larger animals are too expensive to be often experimented on.

January 4, 1850.—­Halted at the village of Onae, alias Gorbuksh Gunge.  It lost the name of Onae, after the proprietor, Gorbuksh, who had built the Gunge, and made it a great emporium of trade in corn, cotton cloth, &c.; but is recovering it again, now that the Gunge has become a ruin, and the family of the builder has been dispossessed of the lands.  I rode out in the morning to look at the neighbouring village of Doolarae-ka Gurhee, or the fort of Doolarae, and have some talk with the peasantry, who are Bys Rajpoots, of one of the most ancient Rajpoot families in Oude.  They told me,—­“That their tribe was composed of two great families, Nyhussas and Synbunsies—­that the acknowledged head of the Synbunsies was, at present, Rugonath Sing, of Kojurgow, and that Hindpaul, tallookdar of Korree Sudowlee, was the head of the Nyhussas; that Baboo Rambuksh, tallookdar of Dhondeea Kheera, had the title of Row, and Dirg Bijee Sing, tallookdar of Morarmow, that of Rajah—­that is, he was the acknowledged Rajah of the clan, and Baboo Rambuksh, the Row, an inferior grade—­that these families had been always fighting with each other, for the possession of each others lands, from the time their ancestors came into Oude, a thousand years ago, except when they were united in resistance against the common