The only other things we fired at were some jackals and a white-headed falcon. The former we missed; the latter I killed. The miner is a pretty bird, of which I have before spoken. I consider it good eating, although most persons have a prejudice against it, as not being a very clean feeder. They fly in large flocks. The other day, with a small charge of shot, I killed five at once. The parrots are very destructive to the fruit, especially the custard-apple; I therefore frequently shoot them in my own garden.
[Cuttack, January 2, 1844.]
I have been to Pooree; but what I am going to relate now is an adventure, not of my own, but of some valiant officers of the regiment stationed here. The Captain, the Lieutenant, the Ensign, and a Serjeant, went out for a day's shooting; and I had the story from two separate individuals of the party. They rode to the ground, and then skirted for some time along the side of the dense jungle. At last the Captain says—"Well, I am tired; I shan't go any farther. Bring me my camp-stool." Fancy a man's taking a camp-stool when he goes out to hunt or shoot! However, down he sat; and the other three proceeded some way farther. At length the Lieutenant says—"Well, I am tired; I shan't go any farther. Give me my camp-stool." Down he sat; and on went the other two, until the Ensign said—"Well, I am tired; I shan't go any farther. Give me my camp-stool." And he sat down.
The Serjeant, with one native, now proceeded down a narrow path which led into the jungle. He had not been gone more than five minutes when the Ensign heard the report of a gun, and the next instant the Serjeant rushed out of the jungle, without his hat, without his gun, with his mouth wide open, eyes staring, and hair all on end. "What's the matter, Serjeant?" cries the Ensign. "A tiger, sir," says the other, without stopping. "A tiger?" "Ay." Down goes the Ensign's gun over his camp-stool, and off he starts after the Serjeant as fast as his legs can carry him. "Hulloh!" exclaims the Lieutenant, as they came rushing towards him: "why, what's in the wind now?" "A tiger! a tiger!" they shout. Down goes the Lieutenant's gun, and he quickly joins in the race. "What in the world are you all after?" cries the Captain, as they came to where he was comfortably sitting, drinking a bottle of beer, and smoking a cigar. "A tiger! a tiger! a tiger!" is again the reply. "Pooh, pooh, nonsense!" said the Captain, moving slowly towards his horse. "Nonsense!" answered the fugitives; "we tell you there is a tiger down there: go and see yourself." "No, I am tired," says the Captain; "I shall go home." And he jumped on his horse, and, followed by his brave comrades, galloped back to Cuttack. How the natives did grin and chuckle. They, too, had seen the frightful monster, and knew that it was a poor harmless jackal which had put to flight the Captain, and the Lieutenant, and the Ensign, and the Serjeant!!!
But there is moral to this tale. Another officer asked the Serjeant afterwards why he ran away? The answer was, that he ran at first because he was alone and unsupported, and that he ran afterwards because he saw the officers run. And this will ever be the case. If the officers show a firm front, so will the men: if the officers waver or hesitate, it will naturally strike a panic into the minds of those who are accustomed to look up to them for guidance. Remarkable instances of both these positions we have recently had at Jellalabad and Kabul.
COSTUME REGULATIONS.
I start on Friday next for Balasore. I go principally for the sake of exercise and shooting. There are a great many bears there. My wife has just hired a new woman-servant. She is of the Ooriah Mehanee caste, and therefore may not wear petticoats, but only the common native dress. Now, all ladies like their own personal servants to wear petticoats; but here it is so strictly forbidden, that the woman, if she were once to put them on, would be deserted by her husband and children, and never be suffered to eat with any of her tribe. But then the Hindu law, whilst it is thus severe on any breach of caste, provides an easy mode of getting over the difficulty. My wife gives the woman eight shillings: the woman gives half of this to the priest, and with the other half she provides a feast for her tribe. After this she may wear her petticoats in peace and security.