minutes. A couple of hours' steady cantering brought me to Sittawaka, where I forded the Kalany Ganga; and three miles beyond this the road ends in a number of tracks. I struck into the one branching to the left, and pushed on.

The sun was by this time rapidly sinking, and I knew neither the road nor the distance I had yet to go. At present it was plain sailing, the track easily discernible passing through an open grassy country, with large clumps of bamboo; but half-an-hour's riding quite changed the scene. I was now in a narrow path, hemmed in on both sides by an impenetrable barrier of bamboo brushwood, through and over which towered mighty forest-trees. My pace was soon reduced to a walk, and after toiling on through torrents and nullahs for an hour, darkness quite set in. I pushed the pony to a trot, and gave him a loose rein. In a few minutes I was sprawling on my back, having been pulled over the crupper by a jungle rope, which hung across the path. It was now so dark that I continued on foot, and led the pony.

In a short time I entered what appeared to be an uncultivated dry paddy field, and all semblance of a road was at an end. By stooping down and feeling the ground with my hand, I managed to get slowly along in what I fancied the right direction; but in doing so was soon covered with land leeches. They swarmed up the arm of my coat and got upon my neck in great numbers. But about 20 minutes brought me to the jungle again, and to my great delight into a well-trodden path, and I was able to push on.

My troubles, however, soon recommenced: branch-paths struck off in all directions, and I knew not which to follow, but took the one which felt the most beaten. I had hardly gone a hundred yards before I was brought up by a deep growl close in front. The pony snorted, and tried to break away. My gun was in a waterproof case at my back; so, holding the reins in my left hand, I drew my long hunting-knife, and waited, with all the coolness I could muster, the brute's attack. At first I thought it was a bear, and knew in that case that my chance of escape was small. Another deep, smothered growl, which made the pony rear violently, and pull back. I did not like the position at all; the pony was plunging and trying to break away. If he succeeded I had little chance of finding him again that night, and yet I dared not take my eyes off the spot where the brute was growling. At last it struck me it might be a chetah, and as I knew they are sneaking, cowardly creatures, I shouted with all my might, and had the satisfaction to hear him bound off through the jungle.

The path was now clear, and I pushed on as rapidly as darkness permitted, and in a few moments found myself on the bank of a large and rapid river; here was a stopper indeed. I knew neither the depth nor the breadth; in vain I tried to pierce the darkness and make out the opposite side. Still something must be done, I could not stay where I was; elephants were roaring not far off, and might come down to drink by the very path I had followed, and which was most probably one of their own making. Leading the pony therefore to the brink, I tried to get him in ; but all to no purpose. I then got behind him and endeavoured to push him in, but with no better success. I therefore resigned myself to a night in the jungle, and took measures accordingly. Fastening the pony to a tree, I cut some thin jungle ropes, and around

them twisted grass until they were as thick as my wrist; with these I effectually hobbled him, and prevented his getting away. I next climbed the tree to which he was tied: and as soon as I had found a good place to sit, loaded my gun with ball, and four or five swan drops in each barrel. My pipe was the next consideration, and flint and steel soon set it going. I was now tolerably comfortable, and began to congratulate myself on not having left the river to try some other path. Had I done so, I should in all probability have become more than ever entangled in the depths of the forest. As it was, I knew that Ruanwellè was not far from its banks, and that by sitting still till daybreak I might make out its position. This sitting still, however, was the very thing I could not do. I was very lightly clad in thin dark-coloured clothes, which, being quite damp, clung to my skin. The mosquitoes had found me out as soon as I got into the tree; but the pipe was rather too strong for their nerves, and kept them at a respectful distance. This was now finished, and my persecution began. They perforated my thin clothes in every direction, and nearly drove me wild. Such was the irritation their buzzing and biting occasioned, that I was almost in the act of decending the tree and taking my chance, when, looking down the river, I saw the flickering of a firefly. Surely it must be a firefly; and yet there are no others! There, there it is again; and hurrah! not a firefly after all. The light blazes up in a bright flame, and appears to be waving backwards and forwards. Once more I made the jungle echo and re-echo with my shouts. The light came to the river, but was clearly on the opposite side. I yelled till I was hoarse as a raven, and thought I heard an answer. Hurrah! there it is again. No mistake, a regular native shout. Quick as thought I yelled back in reply, and fired off the right barrel of my gun. A few minutes more, and the light came steadily on towards me, along the water; and a large flat-bottomed boat, poled by a native, with another holding a chule or torch, brushed the bamboo, and touched the bank. These natives could not speak English, nor I Cingalese; but from the way they kept shouting, "Alio, alio bohoma," I easily divined there were plenty of elephants in the forest. I now anticipated great difficulty in getting the pony into the boat, but to my astonishment he walked in quite quietly. The mosquitoes had punished him as much as they had me. A couple of hundred yards dropping with the stream brought us to a large landing place, with one or two native huts round about; and I saw that I had struck the river just above the Ruanwellè Ferry, and that these were the ferry people. They now lighted "chules," and guided me to the Ruanwellè Rest-house, where I soon fell into that deep sleep which visits only the hard-worked.

Such was my first adventure in the jungles of Ceylon, and it proved to me most forcibly that travelling here and in England were very dif ferent affairs-that a knapsack, good shoes, stout stick, and light heart were not the only requisites; but that tent, servants, provisions and arms were absolutely necessary. I have known several try the "roughing it" system, and have frequently done so myself; but one and all soon gave it up, convinced by fever that exposure to the climate without precaution was certain to be attended with the greatest personal discomfort, destroying all the pleasure of the trip, and ending in loss of health.

The bee is said to have been the pioneer of the white man across the American continent, as the Indians have noticed that wherever the bee made its appearance the woodman's axe was soon heard felling the monarchs of the wilderness in its rear.

As the country, however, becomes settled, the wild honey-bee flies farther and deeper into the undisturbed forests, so that the backwoodsmen, who make a business of collecting honey for sale, are compelled to follow the bees, and consequently the bee-hunter is rarely seen except when he comes into the settlements to barter his "plunder" for necessaries.

Spending so much time, often his whole life, alone in the forest, the bee-hunter generally becomes a superior deer and turkey slayer, as well as honey collector; and we never met one yet who did not excel in the "gentle craft," a hook and line being as invariably wound round his hat as the bucket and axe are swung at his back, or his trusty rifle across his shoulder.

Like most men who pass much of their lives in the wilderness, the bee-hunter has but little to say for himself; he is a man of action, not of words, and, like the Irishman's owl, "a divil to think," if he lacks eloquence; when he does speak, however, it is to the purpose, as is the custom of most great men, for amongst this backwoods fraternity, men of genius in their way have lived and died, their exploits unchronicled, their names unwritten in "the book of fame."

The bee-hunter generally builds his wigwam upon the bank of some stream which is navigable enough to float his canoe, when loaded with two or three casks of honey, the beeswax, and himself, either to some river on which steam-boats ply, when he can trade his "plunder" to the captain, or else to some settlement, where he can barter with some storekeeper for the necessaries he requires; ammunition, whiskey, tobacco, and flour or cornmeal, being his chief requirements: loaded with these and his empty casks he paddles his homeward voyage fully satisfied.

The wigwam, or shanty, is generally of the roughest, as it is only required as a temporary shelter; for the practised bee-hunter soon discovers and robs all the bee trees within three or four miles around; and he then sets to work to erect a new home, where he can store his sweets till the casks are full for market again.

A combination of prairie, wood, and water, is the paradise of the bee-hunter, as the prairie carpeted with millions of flowers furnish his "industrious classes" with a never-failing supply wherewith to make the honey, the timber furnishes them with hollow trees in which to store it, and the water gives the hunter his highway to a market. In the south and south-west it is nearly perpetual summer, so that the bees are almost always at work; and, except during short "spells" of cold weather, they are rarely confined to their hives, or bee-gums as these honey stores are usually named.

Some of these old bee-gums contain an immense quantity of honey, eight, ten, and sometimes more gallons being obtained from one tree; and as this was, in the south, generally worth, first hand, to the beehunter, a quarter of a dollar the pound weight, made honey-hunting a not unprofitable business. Besides this there was the wax, and not unfrequently, when about to go to market, the prudent hunter would kill two or three deer and half-a-dozen wild turkeys to increase his freight, whilst in the winter months wild-fowling as he went to market brought him many an extra dollar. I had often heard of bec-hunting, and had seen a negro on a plantation, or an occasional hunter, find a bee-tree before I met with a professor of the art; but at length I met with T. S., a man who was supposed to be at the very summit of his profession-a kind of senior wrangler in bee-hunting.

Like all great minds T. S. was indifferent to dress: knowing his inward worth, he was careless as to its outward adornment: like a rough diamond, he knew his innate value, and did not care to be polished and set, knowing he should lose some precious particles in the process.

A frayed and tattered Panama hat graced his head, which with grease, dust, honey, and occasional showers, was a little of all colours, but none in particular. Around the sides lengths of fishing lines were twined, the hooks being stuck in what remained of the brim, and as these were snatched out when required, without regard to the hat's integrity, accounted readily enough for its raggedness.

His coat too was, like the youthful Joseph's, of many colours. What its material had been originally it would have puzzled the "bench of bishops" to decide: if it had been cloth, it was now half buckskin; and if it had been buckskin, it was now half cloth. The patches were of all sizes and shapes, from the size of a dollar to that of a fryingpan; whilst the skirts and sleeves, fringed by briars and thorns and snags, resembled the scalp-bordered hunting shirt of an Indian warrior.

His inexpressibles were nothing to speak of: enough certainly remained to swear by; so it is not necessary to say much concerning so little. His shirt was of nature's manufacture-the same he was born with-and tanned to a fine lasting colour. Buckskin moccasins of his own manufacture graced his feet; and his whole outfit was completed, on this occasion, by his rifle, axe, and bucket with its contents: what it contained will be shown presently.

We met by appointment at a spot on the prairie, and after the usual salutations upon making an acquaintance with a stranger, I expressed a hope that we might find a bee-tree.

His reply bespoke the master of his craft.

"Why not? Here's plenty of bees upon the pee-rara. I guess I can line one to its 'gum"."

The word "line" was double-Dutch to me; but I had faith, and made no reply to what was evidently a reproof to my implied doubt of his abilities.

He lost no time in commencing operations. Emptying the bucket of its contents, he set it on the prairie reversed; then from its miscellaneous contents he picked out a tin saucer, and poured into it a spoonful of honey, and set it upon the bottom of the bucket, and

stepping back a pace be awaited the result, whilst I watched each proceeding with curiosity.

In a few minutes a bee had scented it out, and commenced loading itself with the treasure. T. S. cautiously advanced, and instanta neously covered it with a tin cup made to fit the saucer.

"They works best in the dark," he replied to my look of inquiry. In a few minutes, and having taken a pinch of Houred sulphur from a paper, he raised the cup, and inspecting the bee, said, "Its nearly loaded."

Watching it closely, he dasted it with the sulphur just as it flew, and followed it with his eyes. It was soon lost to my sight; but my companion continued to gaze steadily after it, long after it was invi sible to me.

"It's gone straight for that pecan tree," he said. bee over a mile in a clear day, easy."

"I can see a

Another bee was served in the same manner, and this took the

same course.

"Now we'll angle 'em," remarked T. S., "and see how deep the tree is in the forest." Saying which, he removed his traps higher up the prairie, where his preparations were renewed.

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This time the first bee took a course for another point of the forest, and the professor pronounced decidedly that it belonged to a different gum." The next, however, headed a trifle to the right of the pecan tree, before mentioned, and T. S. pronounced himself satisfied that he had "angled" the bee-tree.

"You see," said he, "a bee's a cunning creature, and takes a straight shoot for home when he's ready-what we call "a bee line;" it's so true and straight, that's where the saying came you may no doubt often have heard amongst us western folks. Now where this last one's line cut the first one's and the second's at the first stand that I made, we shall find the bee-gum; that's what we call angling' 'em."

The traps once more were put together; again the bucket swung upon his back, and we started in the direction of the pecan.

"Don't you sometimes have some trouble to find the tree, even when you have angled' it so carefully?" I asked, as we walked along. "No fear. Didn't you see the dust I put on 'em? There will be a pretty muss, I allow, when the other chaps smell the brimstone I made 'em a present of, I guess."

At the point determined as the situation of the "gum,” when we reached it a terrible buzzing met our ears, and it was quite evident that T. S. bad cleverly traced the brimstoned bee's home. Laying aside his impedimenta, and swinging his axe with practised strokes, my companion began to cut down the tall forest tree in whose interior was hid the wild bees' stores.

Half an hour's work sufficed to lay low the patriarch of the forest, and "let in an acre of sunlight."

Naturally the bees were very much astonished and confused as their stronghold fell, and by their united voices proclaimed battle, murder, and sudden death to all their foes; but the experienced hunter speedily lit a fire, and piling upon it plenty of green moss, soon made such a smoke that the bees were compelled to flee.