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other parts of India. A couple of guns can easily get a mixed bag of forty or fifty duck and as many couple of snipe or more. It may also include some black partridge, one of the most beautiful of its species—an old cock in full plumage being a wonderfully handsome bird. Another bird of peculiarly beautiful plumage is the green pigeon, which I recommend no one to neglect who is fond of an excellent dish. The kulan, too,

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story of Romulus and Remus is regarded as simply a legend, but I saw once in the Mission House at Agra a boy, apparently about thirteen years of age, who had been rescued from wolves. I was informed that he had been dug out of an earth, where he was found with some young cubs. It was believed that he was about three years old at the time, and had been carried off when a little baby. At the time of his discovery he was going about on all-fours and could demoiselle cranes, are lovely only utter some guttural sounds; his body was covered with hair. The kind missionaries had had him about ten years when I saw him, and he was then walking upright and had no very great growth of hair on his body; but he was unable to speak more than a very few words, and these indistinctly, although he seemed sufficiently acute to know what everything was and what he wanted, and had, so the missionaries told me, no savage instinct left in him. He seemed very pleased with and puffed away at a cigar, and tapped his chest and tried to express his wish for more. I believe the story of his discovery to have been quite true; the facts seemed well authenticated and were widely known. He went by the name of the "Wolfboy."

All round Muttra shooting with a scatter-gun is varied and good. The numerous jheels hold duck and snipe at the proper seasons of the year, and very fair bags can fair bags can be made, though, of course, not comparable with those in many

birds, with their soft grey
plumage and wonderful col-
oured eyes, and are found in
great numbers all up the
river Jumna. But they are
most wary and difficult to
stalk,-far more so than an
old black-buck, — and stalk
them you must with very
great care. The duck are
in very great variety, and
often I have found a dozen
or more different specimens
in my bag; but I do not
remember ever killing
killing any
mallard round Muttra, though
I have shot them in great
numbers in the north
the Punjab and Afghanistan.
There are also many different
varieties of geese, the hand-
somest of them perhaps the
nukta goose, who only appears
during the rains. The familiar
old grey goose is plentiful, but
as hard and tough and un-
eatable, and as little worth
shooting, as at home. The
teal are most excellent eating

of

better than the duck; and no better snipe can be killed in any part of the world.

In India the migrations of birds are particularly notice

able, as in the autumn you hear all the big birds, as well as see them, passing up in enormous flocks from the south away towards the north, and back again in the spring on their southward journey. All these birds travel every year at their own times almost to the day. About the 20th of October we begin to say, "We ought to hear the kulan: they'll be here in a day or two." Sure enough, before the 24th is passed you almost certainly hear their familiar cry high away in the blue, though you will not be able to see them. Then you stand and gaze and gaze, and probably take your glasses, and there away beyond the limit of human sight almost you will see minute specks in great numbers passing over to the north, and you know that the flight of the larger birds has begun. It is the same with the smaller ones.

You

know that the snipe will arrive in lower India early in September, and gradually find their way up north until at last, about the beginning of October, you tell your shikaris to go off to certain jheels and see if the snipe are in. Every year, almost to the same day, they will come back with a pleased expression on their faces and say: "Sahib, the snipe are in, and some duck about"; and on almost the same day annually away the birds go off back to the south again. So with their daily habits: when waiting at dusk for flight shooting, though you can hardly distinguish them, you will hear the smaller birds coming in to their feeding-grounds, and the "tweet,

con

tweet" of the snipe, and you say to yourself, "Well, the duck will be here in another twenty minutes." Sure enough, within that time you will hear the whistling swish of their wings as they begin to pass over your head. In our little outings to Noh Jheel, I think one of the things which interested us most, ladies and all, was watching the incomings and outgoings of the different birds, for Noh Jheel was & very favourite resort for an immense variety of wild fowl of all kinds. In the early morning, half an hour before daylight, this enormous course of birds could be heard beginning to wake up and talk to one another, a regular Babel of sound below you. Then, just as dawn is appearing, they begin to move: first will come one kind, then another, each in their little separate flocks making off to their daily haunts in different parts. Very often flights of cranes, geese, and duck passed low within shot, close over our tents, when a fusilade would begin for a few minutes as we tumbled off our charpoys (the portable bed used in India) in pyjamas and slippers; then when dressed we sallied forth in different directions, some down to the jheel to return with a nice mixed bag of duck and snipe, others out into the country or towards the river to bring back a buck or a chinkara.

By the time we returned, the lazy ones, if there were any, had filtered quietly up and were ready for breakfast, and after a tub and a change

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into breeches and boots we would join them, to find large dishes of duck, teal, and snipe, fat and beautifully cooked, waiting for us. Then after having sent on the two or three elephants which we always had with us, together with our horses and spears, we jumped on to our ponies, standing ready at our tents, and with pipes in mouths, broke at once into a lazy handcanter, without a care in the world and with a feeling of intense enjoyment, to the other side of the jheel to join the beaters waiting for us there. After some rare good sport with pig and a cheery lunch we would be back again in time to hear the different birds returning; and during dinner could hear them all away in the jheel below saying goodnight to one another. Then, after a long smoke in a lounging chair under the stars and some cheery chaff, we slipped off as we felt inclined to our tents, with the prospect of similar good sport the next day.

The Jumna, like all Indian rivers, is full of orocodiles, both of the short- and long-nosed descriptions. The short-nosed one grows to a large size, very heavy, and has the character and credit of killing a good many of the natives on the banks. The long-nosed mugger is supposed to be a fish-eater; but they tell stories of many misdeeds on his part also, and I have myself found native ornaments, such as bangles, &o., inside both species.

A friend of mine, who was out in India for a trip and stopping with me, made two very good shots one morning, dropping a little chinkara at about two hundred yards with one barrel and a shortnosed mugger with the other. I was close to the bank of the river when he killed the buck, and saw one of these big, short-nosed muggers on the opposite bank and called to him. It was about a hundred and thirty yards off, and he said, "Whereabouts am I to shoot him?" They are most difficult to kill dead, and if only wounded slip into the water and are seldom recovered. I said, "Well, I've hit a good many without killing or getting them; try and take him through the neck, and if you catch the vertebræ he probably won't move." The mugger responded to his shot with a convulsive movement, and never stirred. The The bullet took him right through the neck. We got about a dozen niggers with ropes to try and pull him up the small sloping bank, but they could not do it. He was so heavy that we had to get an elephant to haul him out.

Within less than 100 miles of Muttra-no distance in India

you can get to the big jungles of Bhurtpore and the low hills in Ulwur, where we killed many tigers, leopards, sambhur, &c., as both the Maharajahs were more than kind in not only giving us leave to shoot, but in helping to show us sport.

T. A. ST QUINTIN.

THE WORKING MAN'S VOTE.

BY A WORKMAN.

IT has been the writer's business to spend the best part of the past month among the working men of North and North-East London. Although the conditions existing in the Metropolis differ in some degree from those in the smaller commercial towns and rural districts, yet the underlying principles of progress are the same in town and village. Therefore an impression of the evolution of the working man formed in the Metropolis may be taken as fairly representative of the class movement throughout the country. It is the extent and character of this movement that the Unionists have failed to appreciate. The people of this country, and more especially the working people of the large industrial towns, have become totally undisciplined. It is this want of discipline that has made the recent Liberal-Socialistio campaign possible, and which, unless the middle classes bestir themselves, will ruin the Empire.

The reason for this indiscipline is not obscure. In the past, the foundation of social intercourse between the classes in this country has been, on the one side, feudal tradition and education, and, on the other, ignorance. The extinction of feudalism created the middle class. For two cen

LONDON, January 1910.

turies this class has been engaged in the building of the British Empire. In the establishment of this magnificent edifice the nation unconsciously divided itself into two classes, the Master - masons and the Workmen. the Workmen. Grudgingly the master extended the advantages of education to the workmen. They gave education without discipline.

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They failed to realise that education thrown broadcast upon virgin soil, unless husbanded with care, must produce a coarse and tangled growth. The middle classes, disciplined in their schools, anxious to associate themselves with the now traditional feudal trusts, took no heed of the wild devouring growth taking place in the Board Schools. Here the teachers, risen from the masses, taught individualism to the rising generation. National discipline, patriotism, esprit de corps, these things were not for the working man. To persuade him to rise by his own effort, at the expense of his neighbour, from the sordid surroundings in which the lottery of birth had found him, has been the sole tendency of his teaching. And all the time the middle classes have stood aloof, trusting that the magnetism of the feudal tradition would main

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impossible to break through the reserve а mixture of shyness and suspicion-with which the latter masks his real attitude of mind. If his own employers do not know him, it is hardly to be expected that the average Unionist candidate will gain a more intimate knowledge. He may address three meetings a-day for a month or three weeks before the election; he may have a host of beautiful ladies and educated friends working for him; but he will be little nearer the masses at the end of his candidature than he was the first day that he set foot in his constituency. The working man, be he mechanic, carman, or docklabourer, leads a well-ordered life. During his working day he has little time for political discussion. During his dinnerhour he is curiously unresponsive. The first business of that hour is food, and the second to read the paper. More often than otherwise it is only the "sporting" information and the "police news" that he finds time to read. In the evening he takes his leisure. It is usually a tired man's leisure

tain their own ascendency with In this capacity it is almost the working man. They took no heed of the new forces that the Board Schools were creating. Feudal tradition is a sentiment, the demagogue is a force. He is a force suited to the circumstances which have created him. He has beaten down the foot-bridge of sentiment that joined the middle classes to the masses, and has built up in its place a great barrier of mistrust and falsehood. And all the time the middle classes have been content to let him have his way. It is to-day, only, that they can realise the opportunities that they have missed of moulding and disciplining this great mass of half-baked intelligence which, yearning for instruction, and left unsatisfied by the classes to which it turned, has created opportunities for itself. The middle classes have themselves to blame. They were content to smile when the demagogue first appeared upon the curbstone. Now they have found him in the Cabinet, and they have lived to groan. Of the influence of the demagogue and his "packing" of the halfbaked intelligence of his following the reader may learn something from actual experiences in the East End of London.

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as many thousands of canvassers have found out to their disgust. For the most part, the married men in London remain at home after they have had their "tea." They may just take a turn down to their favourite public-house. But the majority of workers are respectable, sober family men, who sit at home and read their paper in the interval of

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