in days of old, and wage a regular guerilla
warfare against the invaders. Woe betide the belated pedestrian, or even
horseman, if he happens to pass under a tree which forms the ambuscade
of a coralillo snake! Cobras and other reptiles seldom attack men, and
will generally try to avoid them, unless accidentally trodden upon,
but these guerilleros of the forest, the tree serpents, lie in wait for
their victims. As soon as the head of a man comes under the branch which
shelters the coralillo, this enemy of man, coiling its tail round
the branch, dives down into space with all the length of is body, and
strikes with its fangs at the man's forehead. This curious fact was long
considered to be a mere fable, but it has now been verified, and belongs
to the natural history of India. In these cases the natives see in the
snake the envoy of Death, the fulfiller of the will of the bloodthirsty
Kali, the spouse of Shiva.

But evening, after the scorchingly hot day, was so tempting, and held
out to us from the distance such promise of delicious coolness, that we
decided upon risking our fate. In the heart of this wondrous nature one
longs to shake off earthly chains, and unite oneself with the boundless
life, so that death itself has its attractions in India.

Besides, the full moon was about to rise at eight p.m. Three hours'
ascent of the mountain, on such a moonlit, tropical night as would tax
the descriptive powers of the greatest artists, was worth any sacrifice.
Apropos, among the few artists who can fix upon canvas the subtle charm
of a moonlit night in India public opinion begins to name our own V.V.
Vereshtchagin.

Having dined hurriedly in the dak bungalow we asked for our sedan
chairs, and, drawing our roof-like topees over our eyes, we started.
Eight coolies, clad, as usual, in vine-leaves, took possession of each
chair and hurried up the mountain, uttering the shrieks and yells no
true Hindu can dispense with. Each chair was accompanied besides by a
relay of eight more porters. So we were sixty-four, without counting
the Hindus and their servants--an army sufficient to frighten any stray
leopard or jungle tiger, in fact any animal, except our fearless cousins
on the side of our great-grandfather Hanuman. As soon as we turned into
a thicket at the foot of the Mountain, several dozens of these kinsmen
joined our procession. Thanks to the achievements of Rama's ally,
monkeys are sacred in India. The Government, emulati