of Eagle River about four o'clock in the afternoon, and under the
circumstances, a more pleasant, inviting village we do not recollect
ever to have seen before. Four or five of our party came through the
same evening, and a few others of another party came in the next day
with similar hardships.

On the Tuesday following, Capt. McKay with the schooner Algonquin,
proceeded to the wreck, and brought off the captain, crew, and remaining
passengers, and all that could be saved of valuable property.

A JUNGLE RECOLLECTION.

The hot season of 1849 was peculiarly oppressive, and the irksome
garrison duty, at Cherootabad, in the south of India, had for many
months been unusually severe. The colonel of my regiment, the brigadier,
and the general, having successively acceded to my application for three
weeks' leave, and that welcome fact having been duly notified in orders,
it was not long before I found myself on the Coimbatore road, snugly
packed, guns and all, in a country bullock cart, lying at full length on
a mattress, with a thick layer of straw spread under it.

All my preparations had been made beforehand; relays of bullocks were
posted for me at convenient intervals, and I arrived at Goodaloor, a
distance of a hundred and ten miles, in rather more than forty
eight hours.

Goodaloor is a quiet little village, about eleven miles from
Coimbatore;--but don't suppose I was going to spend my precious three
weeks there.

All loaded, and pony saddled, let us start: the two white cows and their
calves; the mattress and blanket rolled up and carried on a Cooly's
head Shikaree, horsekeeper, and a village man, with the three guns,
while I, myself, bring up the rear. Over a few ploughed fields, and past
that large banian tree, the jungle begins.

In a small clump of low jungle, on the sloping bank of a broad, sandy
watercourse, the casual passer-by would not have perceived a snug and
tolerably strong little hut--the white ends of the small branches that
were laid over it, and the mixture of foliage, alone revealing the fact
to the observant eye of a practiced woodman. No praise could be too
strong to bestow on the faithful Shikaree; had I chosen the spot myself,
after a weeks' survey of the country, it could not have been more
happily selected.

To the deeply-rooted stump of a young tree on the opposite bank, one of
the white cows had been made fast by a double cord passed twice around
her horns. Nothing remains to be