hing on an average not much over two
hundred pounds, has proved quite as dangerous and even more formidable
in conflict than the huge monarch of these forests. The quick-witted,
cool, and experienced huntsman can avoid the giant elephant when he
charges,--he is necessarily sluggish on account of his size; but the
wild boar is swift, fierce, and armed with tusks sharp as a dagger's
point, which he uses with the adroitness and rapidity of a skilled
swordsman. Sir Samuel Baker says that he has killed these animals in
Ceylon weighing over four hundred pounds each, and has seen them here
even much larger. The boar is hunted with trained dogs, and is
scarcely ever driven to bay without seriously wounding and often
killing one or more of the pack. The hunter does not shoot at the boar
when at close quarters, lest he should kill the dogs hanging to the
animal; but the true form is for him to close in upon the fight and
bury his long knife in the creature's vital parts. Practiced sportsmen
aim to bury their weapon just back of the ears, at the junction of the
brain and spinal marrow; death to the boar is then instantaneous. Sir
Samuel Baker, who was an inveterate sportsman, had many narrow escapes
in wild-boar hunting in Ceylon, and was more than once seriously
wounded.

The natives inland, as observed on the line of the railway, live in
the simplest and rudest of huts, mostly formed of bamboo frames filled
in with clay baked in the sun. The thatched roofs consist, as usual in
this country, of large palm leaves braided together, one layer lapping
over another, thus effectually excluding even equatorial rains. The
eaves come within three or four feet of the ground. There are no
chimneys nor windows in these primitive abodes, but the doors, which
are always open, admit light and air. The natives only sleep in them;
during their waking hours, they are always under the blue sky. Each
native builds his own cabin, which rarely consists of more than one
apartment. In its erection no nails are used; the several parts are
tied together with rattans and stout vines, which become like rope
when they are once dry. The climate is so uniformly warm that many do
not even plaster their walls with clay, using palm leaves and boughs
of trees to form a sufficient covering. A sheltered situation is
chosen, so as to be protected from the weather when the monsoons blow,
for these natives have a fixed aversion to the wind and rain. There is
a certain