ing walls and thatched roof, much like the Burmese dwellings I
have described. Native custodians are in charge of them, and although
specially intended for the use of Government servants, any traveller
may use them. In the forest similar houses, called "tais," smaller and
often built of bamboo, are erected, though sometimes very small huts
indeed, formed of bamboo and reeds, are the only shelter available.
These are draughty dwellings, and even the best-built "tai" is partly
open to the air, and affords little protection from the night cold,
which is often so intense that sleep is almost impossible.

After a scanty breakfast by candlelight, a start is made in the early
dawn, when the air is cold and damp, and the heavy dew dripping from
the reeds and kine-grass quickly soaks you to the skin. The sunrise is
curiously sudden, and very soon the sun is hot enough to compel the
traveller to leave the open glades and seek the shelter of the denser
portions of the forest. Hardy little ponies, sure-footed and willing,
are our mounts, while elephants carry the stores and provisions,
cooking utensils, and bedding, which every traveller must take with
him.

In distinction to the working elephants, those employed on a journey
are called "travellers," and are used for no other purpose. Their
drivers are called "ouzies," and sit astride the animals' necks, with
their legs hanging down behind their ears. There are several ways of
mounting, each pretty: sometimes the elephant will hold up its
fore-foot to form a step for its driver, or will drop upon its knees
and bend its trunk to form a step, by which the "ouzie" is able to
reach his seat.

When travelling they have a shambling sort of gait, half walk, half
amble, but manage to get over the ground very quickly, and for such
cumbersome animals are very nimble-footed. It is almost ludicrous to
see the huge beasts picking their way along a narrow "bund" or
crossing some ditch by a bridge of fallen logs, but they always do so
successfully.

Soft and boggy land, however, is a great trouble to them, their great
weight causing them to sink deep into the mud; and elephants will
often show their dread of such places by loud trumpeting and great
unwillingness to attempt the passage. Occasionally they will tear up
tufts of reeds or boughs of trees to make a foothold for themselves,
and I heard quite recently of a case where a friend of mine, while out
shooting from elephants, came to such