of slaying
more than half that number; Major SKINNER, the Commissioner of Roads,
almost as many; and less persevering aspirants follow at humbler
distances.[1]

[Footnote 1: To persons like myself, who are not addicted to what is
called "sport," the statement of these wholesale slaughters is
calculated to excite surprise and curiosity as to the nature of a
passion that impels men to self-exposure and privation, in a pursuit
which presents nothing but the monotonous recurrence of scenes of blood
and suffering. Mr. BAKER, who has recently published, under the title of
"_The Rifle and the Hound in Ceylon_" an account of his exploits in the
forest, gives us the assurance that "_all real sportsmen are
tender-hearted men, who shun cruelty to an animal, and are easily moved
by a tale of distress_;" and that although man is naturally
bloodthirsty, and a beast of prey by instinct, yet that the true
sportsman is distinguished from the rest of the human race by his "_love
of nature, and of noble scenery_." In support of this pretension to a
gentler nature than the rest of mankind, the author proceeds to attest
his own abhorrence of cruelty by narrating the sufferings of an old
hound, which, although "toothless," he cheered on to assail a boar at
bay, but the poor dog recoiled "covered with blood, cut nearly in half,
with a wound fourteen inches in length, from the lower part of the
belly, passing up the flank, completely severing the muscles of the hind
leg, and extending up the spine; his hind leg having the appearance of
being nearly off." In this state, forgetful of the character he had so
lately given of the true sportsman, as a lover of nature and a hater of
cruelty, he encouraged "the poor old dog," as he calls him, to resume
the fight with the boar, which lasted for an hour, when he managed to
call the dogs off; and perfectly exhausted, the mangled hound crawled
out of the jungle with several additional wounds, including a severe
gash in his throat. "He fell from exhaustion, and we made a litter with
two poles and a horsecloth to carry him home."--P. 314. If such were the
habitual enjoyments of this class of sportsmen, their motiveless
massacres would admit of no manly justification. In comparison with them
one is disposed to regard almost with favour the exploits of a hunter
like Major ROGERS, who is said to have applied the value of the ivory
obtained from his encounters towards the purchase of his successive
regimental