lpore, in the very heart of India. It has become an
important place since; the railroad across India passes through it and
no end of changes have taken place; but at that time it was one of the
most out of the way stations in India, and, I may say, one of the most
pleasant. It lay high, there was capital boating on the Nerbudda, and,
above all, it was a grand place for sport, for it lay at the foot of the
hill country, an immense district, then but little known, covered with
forests and jungle, and abounding with big game of all kinds.

"My great friend there was a man named Simmonds. He was just of my own
standing; we had come out in the same ship, had marched up the country
together, and were almost like brothers. He was an old Etonian, I an old
Westminster, and we were both fond of boating, and, indeed, of sport
of all kinds. But I am not going to tell you of that now. The people
in these hills are called Gonds, a true hill tribe--that is to say,
aborigines, somewhat of the negro type. The chiefs are of mixed blood,
but the people are almost black. They are supposed to accept the
religion of the Hindus, but are in reality deplorably ignorant and
superstitious. Their priests are a sort of compound of a Brahmin priest
and a negro fetish man, and among their principal duties is that of
charming away tigers from the villages by means of incantations. There,
as in other parts of India, were a few wandering fakirs, who enjoyed an
immense reputation for holiness and wisdom. The people would go to them
from great distances for charms or predictions, and believed in their
power with implicit faith.

"At the time when we were at Jubbalpore there was one of these fellows
whose reputation altogether eclipsed that of his rivals, and nothing
could be done until his permission had been asked and his blessing
obtained. All sorts of marvelous stories were constantly coming to our
ears of the unerring foresight with which he predicted the termination
of diseases, both in men and animals; and so generally was he believed
in that the colonel ordered that no one connected with the regiment
should consult him, for these predictions very frequently brought about
their own fulfillment; for those who were told that an illness would
terminate fatally, lost all hope, and literally lay down to die.

"However, many of the stories that we heard could not be explained on
these grounds, and the fakir and his doings were often talked over
at mess,