countess pass by, and yet there was not one
of them who looked so peculiar. It is
certain that she had an odd appearance. What was
there in her? She was dressed in exquisite
taste. She had no gaudy hues in her garments.
It was very strange, but so it was. Perhaps her
temper had something to do with it.

So, Lily pondering and the lady fuming, they
returned to the hotel, where Lily was glad to be
put to bed early, and the lady sat up till late
reading her novels. They were both up by
seven in the morning. There was a disturbance
about the bill, and the countess told the
landlord he was a robber. But that was usual;
and all things considered, the lady might for
once have hit the right nail on the head. I have
stopped at the same hotel myself (I won't
mention it by name, for fear of being libellous), and I
can't help thinking, under correction, that the
landlord was a robber.

MORE TRIFLES FROM CEYLON.

OF all animals the elephant is the most restless.
He is never quiescent for an instant.
While standing in his stable, he is either flapping
his ears, or moving his trunk, or rubbing one
leg against the other. At Kandy, the elephants
belonging to the temple are drawn up on the
esplanade at sunset every evening, where they
may be seen going through their grotesque and
ceaseless movements. They are used for
purposes of pageantry by the Buddhist priests, and
great as their terror is of fire while in a savage
state, will walk with the greatest unconcern,
when tamed, through the streets of Kandy
during the festival of the Perahera, surrounded
by torch-bearers and thousands of spectators. A
few of the Kandian chiefs own an elephant or
two; but their possession by private individuals
is by no means common. I was travelling on
official business one day in the central province,
when my progress on horseback was arrested by
a river, swollen by heavy rains. I found that a
Kandian headman had sent his elephant to carry
me over; but it was necessary for me to straddle
across his back, as if on horseback: the luxury
of a howdah being one that the Kaudian chiefs
do not indulge in. I mounted the elephant,
having first taken the precaution to remove my
spurs. I was agreeably surprised to find how
easy the motion was, and was also interested
by the caution and intelligence the creature
displayed in avoiding the rocks concealed beneath
the turbid waters. On arriving at the opposite
bank, his mahout directed him to kneel, which
order he obeyed; but, as I was about to
dismount, the elephant, either alarmed by my
European dress, or by some other unexplained
cause, suddenly sprang up and ran off. The
mahout called out to me not to be afraid, but to
hold on to his (the mahout's) waist: a proposal
which, considering the difference in our weights,
was rather amusing, as I must inevitably have
pulled him off had I lost my own balance. I
preferred gripping my steed with the knee, and
passing my arms round my human friend's waist;
and I held on to the chain which was round
the elephant's neck until he saw fit to stay his
career. When I had dismounted in safety, a
little whipper-snapper boy, of about twelve years
old, sprang on the elephant's neck and rode off
at a smart round walk, looking as if he meant
to say to me, "I'll teach you how to do it,"
which he probably did.

It is extraordinary with what rapidity a stream
in this country, which a few hours ago was
scarcely above your horse's fetlocks, will
become a foaming torrent. I remember coming
one afternoon, during a heavy shower, to a stream
which I had the previous day passed with ease.
As I approached, I saw a mass of water pouring
in a foaming cataract over the cliffs above; I at
once crossed, and the water was not above my
horse's girths. My horsekeeper, who had
lingered a few hundred yards behind, found the
stream up to his shoulders. My Coolies and
servants, who were still further in the rear,
were unable to cross at all for some hours, and
there was nothing for them to do but to wait,
like Horace's rustic, while I lay shivering in a
temporary bungalow. Fortunately the waters
subside in these mountain streams as rapidly as
they rise. With the rivers, the process is slower.

I was one afternoon walking along a
bridle-path, my horsekeeper leading my horse,
when we reached a shelving mass of rock,
over which a stream flowed, which it was
necessary to cross. As I approached it, I
removed from my shoulders a plaid I had
thrown over them, for it occurred to me that
my feet might slip in the stream, which, after
winding among some masses of rock, fell
into a whirlpool at the head of a waterfall. It
was well that I took the precaution, for no
sooner had I stepped into the stream, than I
felt that I could not retain my footing—the
surface of the inclining rock, over which the
water ran, gave no hold to my feet—I could
neither advance nor recede, and felt myself
carried off my legs. I at once threw myself
down under the water, that I might be carried
off feet-foremost. It is well I did so, for had
I gone head-foremost I should have been stunned
before arriving at the pool at the head of the
waterfall. As it happened, I dropped unhurt
into the pool, and at once struck out for the
bank, which I reached in safety; but my plaid
and umbrella went over the waterfall, and I
felt too thankful that I had not followed them,
to regret their loss.

When I was, say a dozen years younger than
I am now, I took it into my head to make
a tour through part of the hill country without
any horsekeeper or other servants. I started
from Newera Ellia, the mountain sanatarium,
and travelled through the lovely district of
Ambegamoa to Colombo. In the course of my
journey I had occasion to cross the
Kalanyganga, at that time swollen by rains. I was
mounted on a little pony, a blanket was fastened
behind my saddle, and my clothes were strapped
in front. On reaching the bank of the river,