rtation, scandal, whispering, glancing, dancing, tripping, sipping,
and hand-squeezing, the ball goes gaily on till the stewards announce
supper. At this--to the wall-flowers--welcome announcement, we adjourn
from the heated ball-room to the cool arbour-like supper tent, where
every delicacy that can charm the eye or tempt the appetite is spread
out.

Next morning early we are out with the hounds, and enjoy a rattling
burst round by the racecourse, where the horses are at exercise.
Perchance we have heard of a boar in the sugar-cane, and away we go
with beaters to rouse the grisly monster from his lair. In the
afternoon there is hockey on horseback, or volunteer drill, with our
gallant adjutant putting us through our evolutions. In the evening
there is the usual drive, dinner, music, and the ordinary, and so the
meet goes on. A constant succession of gaieties keeps everyone alive,
till the time arrives for a return to our respective factories, and
another year's hard work.

[1] In such a limited society every peculiarity is noted; all our
antecedents are known; personal predilections and little foibles
of character are marked; eccentricities are watched, and no one,
let him be as uninteresting as a miller's pig, is allowed to
escape observation and remark. Some little peculiarity is hit
upon, and a strange but often very happily expressive nickname
stamps one's individuality and photographs him with a word.

CHAPTER IX.

Pig-sticking in India.--Varieties of boar.--Their size and height.
--Ingenious mode of capture by the natives,--The 'Batan' or buffalo
herd.--Pigs charging.--Their courage and ferocity.--Destruction of
game.--A close season for game.

The sport _par excellence_ of India is pig-sticking. Call it
hog-hunting if you will, I prefer the honest old-fashioned name. With a
good horse under one, a fair country, with not too many pitfalls, and
'lots of pig,' this sport becomes the most exciting that can be
practised. Some prefer tiger shooting from elephants, others like to
stalk the lordly ibex on the steep Himalayan slopes, but anyone who has
ever enjoyed a rattle after a pig over a good country, will recall the
fierce, delight, the eager thrill, the wild, mad excitement, that
flushed his whole frame, as he met the infuriate charge of a good
thirty-inch fighting boar, and drove his trusty spear well home, laying
low the gallant grey tusker, the indomitable, unconquerable