their masters desperately uncomfortable. Sir
John Falstaff declined to march through Coventry
with his ragged regiment; but I could tell of
a penance far more disagreeable—to be in
command of a regiment not at all ragged, but
beautifully made up, and then to be sent to
Coventry, and quartered in Coventry, and forced
to stop in Coventry, year after year, to be cut,
shunned, loathed, scowled upon, scorned, when,
at the bottom of their hearts, your command is
really a very jolly regiment, fond of waltzing, and
good cheer, and blithesome company. Cavaliere
Toggenburg wishes La Fenice to be opened, in
order that everybody may enjoy themselves, and
that his tight-waisted, white-coated officers may
flirt with the Venetian ladies, and listen to the
opera for fourpence-halfpenny, according to the
tariff made and provided in dear old unsophisticated
Deutschland. But the noble shareholders
of La Fenice snarl "No!" If they open the
theatre at all, it shall be to hang it with black
crape, and light it with corpse-candles, and
intone a mortuary mass there, for Venice, laid
out on the Lagoons so cold and stark. "Come,"
cries Toggenburg, "let bygones be bygones.
Here are fifty thousand florins as a subvention
from my government. Engage an energetic
impresario and a first-rate troupe. Let us have
plenty of masked balls next carnival, and the
Austrian hymn, with full chorus, on the Kaiser's
birthday!" The noble shareholders will have
none of Toggenburg's money. At the last
carnival ball given here, at the direct invitation, or
rather under the coercion, of the government,
there were but six maskers, and this forlorn
half-dozen were dressed and paid by the police.
From 1859—the year of hoped-for liberation,
but, as it turned out, the year of the renewal of the
lease of Venetian slavery—unto the year 1866 La
Fenice has been entirely closed, and the spider has
woven his web, and the flea has gone to sleep for
want of somebody to bite, in these empty boxes.

Empty, but not, perchance, for ever. Ere these
lines shall be printed, it is to be hoped and
believed that the emptiness of La Fenice will have
become a thing of the past—that the splendid house
will be really lighted a giorno—that a substantial
King of Italy will sit in the state box and listen,
not to the Austrian Kaiser's, but to his own
national hymn—and that the boxes of this historical
theatre will be full to overflowing of the noblest
blood, the brightest beauty, the keenest intellect,
and the soundest worth, of the peninsula.

TERRIBLE STRUGGLE WITH A TIGER.

How well can I remember the scene
represented by our encampment on the night of the
day previous to the horrible day I am about to
describe, as Fantom and I sat in our easy-chairs
outside the tents, after a long and dusty ride!
All seems as fresh to my memory as though it
occurred yesterday. The bright and glaring
moon, whose silvery but dazzling light played
upon our tents; the shadowy outline of our
horses, picketed a short distance off; the ever
and again recurring sound of their blowing
nostrils; and further off still, the dusky forms of
servants squatting around their fires and often
peering through steam into the interior of a
cooking utensil; the distant hum of conversation
amongst them, and the silent and almost stealthy
approach of "Gungiah," our "shickaree," with
his usual evening report, are all vividly before
me. Gungiah replied to our question of "what
news?" that "all was good news;" that during
his search after "Kubber" that day, he had come
across a village in which there was a great
commotion, a "Gouli," or herdsman, having had
one of his herd carried away by a tiger; about
whose size and ferocity he brought the usual
exaggerated description. He was a man who
thoroughly understood his business, and having
ascertained the exact spot where the occurrence
had taken place, the number of beaters procurable
at the village, and carefully examined the
spot, had engaged some fifty men to be ready
for beating by daybreak next morning; he
was pleased to add, that "our names, as hunters,
had become great," and that our generosity was
well known: so that the villagers were not only
willing but anxious to destroy the spoiler of
their herds and to finger our rupees.

Here was glorious news! We had set out for
a few days' nilghaie and antelope shooting, with
the off chance of meeting with a cheetah or a
bear, but a tiger we had not dared to hope for.
Gungiah was really an adept at his calling:
about middle height; of spare, almost emaciated
frame, but with sinews and muscles like whip-
cord; his extremely scanty apparel, consisting
of a dark-coloured, perhaps dirty, cloth round
his loins, a dusky cloth skull-cap, and a pair
of rough village-made sandals. He carried a
double-barrelled fowling-piece in his right hand,
half in the fashion of a Rohilla and half like
a sportsman; and in his left hand were a brace
of wild ducks that he had come across at some
tank on his road home. Dismissing him with
a strict caution to be early afoot, we called to
our boys to bring our rifles for inspection.
Having carefully seen that a sufficient quantity
of bullets, powder, caps, patches, and all the
rest, were placed in the shickar-bags, we turned
in. Comfortably wearied with our long and
dusty ride, we had not much time or inclination
to ponder on to-morrow's glories before sleep
overpowered us.

So soundly had we slept, that it seemed as if
we had but just dismissed Gungiah, when we
were aroused by some nudges, and a voice saying,
"Suppose master going to make shooting, time
to get up?" Despatching a hot cup of tea, we
were not long before we had arrayed ourselves in
our hunting costume, and by the time we had
mounted our horses the first red streak of dawn
was visible in the horizon. Giving a rifle to each
of our horsekeepers, and another to each of our
body-men, together with the shickar-bags and
knives, we set out, preceded by Gungiah, in the
direction of our beat. Gungiah informed us that