MEMOIR OF FERDINAND FREILIGRATH. BY WILLIAM HOWITT. MANY of our readers may not be aware that this distinguished German lyrical poet has been residing for nearly two years in this country. The tyranny of the King of Prussia, who seemed determined to crush every breath of free opinion, compelled him to fly his country with little hope of ever returning to it; but the late magnificent revolutionary demonstration on the continent has paralyzed the despots' arms, re-opened his Fatherland to the exile, and at the call of great numbers of his compatriots, Freiligrath has gone back to aid in the establishment of a free constitution for his enfranchised nation. At such a moment it will be interesting to the lovers of genius and patriotism, to know something of the past life of such a man. We draw our material from unquestionable sources, partly printed and partly yet unpublished. in its grasp, was, by the usual irony of fortune, condemned to the most unpoetical occupation in the world; in a word, he was in a merchant's office. He was born at Detmold, the little capital of the little princedom of Lippe-Detmold, on the 17th of June, 1810, and received his first education at the gymnasium of that city. His constant desire was to devote himself to a literary life, but insurmountable difficulties opposed themselves to this, and he was placed in a house of business at Soest, a little town of Westphalia. To a youth of his active fancy, trade presented no charms, but he fulfilled his duties punctually, and refreshed his mind during his leisure hours by study. Travels especially had been his delight at school, and they still furnished the main nourishment of his spirit. Often till deep in the night he sate in his little chamber, and followed with entranced interest the adventures of Marco Polo, Vasco de Gama, Albuquerque and other discoverers; advanced with them amongst unknown men, and penetrated at their side into the regions of legend and wonder, participating in their dangers and their glory. At the same time he occupied himself zealously with the studies of geology and natural history, and the acquirement of the English and the French languages. But it was the knowledge of the people of the East; of their modes of life, thought, and feeling, their circumstances and habits, that he most zealously exerted himself to familiarize to his mind. The creative power was already stirring actively in his bosom; and before his sixteenth year, he had furnished poems to the Minden Sunday paper. In the year 1835, there appeared in the Musenalmanach, published by the poets Chamisso and Schwabe, the compositions of a youth hitherto unheard of, but whose writings immediately excited universal attention. His name was Ferdinand Freiligrath. The welcome which was given to him on this very first appearance, induced him to proceed. He communicated poems to Duller's "Phoenix," and the Stuttgard "Morgenblatt," and was soon acknowledged one of the favourites of the public. There was a peculiar and very marked character about After the expiration of his apprenticeship, he contihim. He struck the attention by the novelty of his nued some years as a merchant's clerk in Soest, and matter, and held it by the singular harmony of his verse. then went to Amsterdam, where he entered a distinThe flowers which he scattered from his cornucopia, guished banking-house. It need scarcely be said, that were not gathered on the German soil, nor yet from the the life and stir of a great city of trade, made a powso-often sung fields of the Hesperides, or the enchant-erful impression upon him. The sight of the sea, the ing valleys of the Alps. Their glowing magnificence of flying flags, the swelling sails, awoke all his boyish colour, and their ravishing fragrance, spoke of another dreams, and the thought that he was now on the brink and far-off climate, where the palm rustles, and the date of that element which the keels of his heroes had ripens, where a burning sky vaults the luxuriantly green ploughed on their voyages of discovery, gave new wings landscape, and the martial Bedouin flies on his steed, to his fancy. The worst of it was, that he was totally fleet as the wind through the whirling sand of the destitute of congenial society. The young men of his desert. station, did not comprehend him at all, and the absorbing chase after money and empty pleasures, inspired him with an unconquerable disgust to their society, which more than once broke out in words : It was the wonder-world of the East, which Freili grath opened by the magic wand of his imagination, that legendary Orient, whose treasures he spread before the astonished eyes of his countrymen, and whose very existence he presented before them in splendid pictures. Those things which are accustomed to inspire other poets, excited no influence on Freiligrath. - Spring, Friendship, Love, Wine, etc. The energetic, the wild, the fantastic, alone attracted him, and these he did not meet with, amid the tameness of Europe. Therefore, his muse flew to the feet of Lebanon and Sinai, to the shores of the Niger and the Senegal. There he rejoiced in the contest with the tiger or the giant serpent, watched the lion, whilst awaiting his prey, crouched in the sedges of the tropical river's bank, mingled in the battles of the wild Negro races, galloped with bearded Sheiks "through Jethro's flaming tract;" and reposed in the tent of the Nomade, which was pitched in an oasis. Sometimes he traversed the ocean and in transatlantic regions, ranged the boundless Savannahs of the Far West; entered the wigwams of the Indians, and pursued with the red man the traces of the elk and the bison. Or, he accompanied the bold seaman on perilous voyages, and dreamed with him of the wonders of unknown lands, untrodden of human foot. In all these regions, Freiligrath was at home, so as no man before him had been, and he displayed the true genius of the conqueror in the manner in which he placed himself in these foreign circumstances, with which his bodily eye was totally unacquainted. And this poet, whose imagination enclosed the world : Know ye the emptiness, disgust most strong? From Amsterdam issued many of his noblest poems. It was hence that he sent some of them to Chamisso, with the success we have noticed, for Chamisso at once perceived his extraordinary talents, and not only published his compositions, but exhorted him to proceed boldly. In 1836, Freiligrath quitted Amsterdam, and took a situation as a business assistant at Barmen. From this place he commenced a lively connection with the poets of the Rhine; in the following year published in conjunction with Hub and Schnezler, the "Rheinische Odeon," and in 1838, a collection of his Lyrical Poems appeared at Stuttgard, (Cotta was the publisher) and the success was so great, that several editions were rapidly demanded. The public was now enabled to judge of the powers and characteristics of Freiligrath's genius, and its judgment was decisive. It perceived and acknowledged the originality and vigour of his representations, the won derful capacity of his mind to embody itself in foreign Like many other poets, he regarded politics as a rock circumstances and persons, and the rhythmical per- which he must carefully avoid. He did not see that he fection of which his poetry bore the stamp. He dis-had a necessary connection with the stirrings of the world; played a power of language in this department, which placed him at the side of Voss and Gries, and a critic justly observed, that beneath the stroke of his metrical mallet, the roughest granite was changed into the noblest marble forms. The success of his poems gave him confidence in himself; and in 1839, he ventured to throw up his mercantile profession, and to devote himself wholly to literature. He went to Cologne and there, in union with Matzerath and Simrock, issued, in 1840, "The Rhenish Yearbook of Art and Poetry." Besides this, he laboured diligently at translating from the English and French poets, Robert Burns, Felicia Hemans, Victor Hugo, etc.; and composed many beautiful lyrics of his own. In the following year he quitted Cologne for Darmstadt, where two dear friends of his, Edward Duller and Karl Buchner lived; and in 1842 he again quitted Darmstadt, and took up his abode at St. Goar on the Rhine. The King of Prussia, unsolicited, and to his great surprise, conferred a pension of three hundred dollars upon him, and with this and the proceeds of his writings, he found himself rich enough for his few and simple wants. Thus he lived for two years in St. Goar, a delightful poetical life, and enjoyed, apparently, a happiness that the gods themselves might envy. Secured against the necessities of life; surrounded by glorious scenery, valued by his nation, distinguished by his powerful monarch, covered with fresh laurel-wreaths, tenderly beloved by a cherished wife, what more was wanting to his happiness? Satisfaction; inward peace. It is strange, but true, that this fresh, vigorous talent sickened with the evil of the world; this poet, who had won back the heart of the public to long abandoned poetry, lived in disunity with his own muse. Far from gazing on his triumph with the pride of the conqueror, he sighed rather from his oppressed heart-"God, why hast thou given me songs?" He complained of Nature, which had endowed him with this precious talent; he pronounced poetry a curse, and the chaste kiss of the Muse's consecration, as the stamp and brand-mark of Cain. "Who," says Prutz in his lectures on the German literature of the day, "does not in this, perceive the general ailment of the age? It was not the favour of the muse which became the brand-mark to Freiligrath; it was not poetry which was the curse which tortured him; that which so pained him, which converted a blessing into a curse, this, his ailment, his curse, was the curse of the age, which felt itself unhappy, since it had not the courage, and did not possess the strength, to become happy.' But Freiligrath was not the man to sink into hypochondria where a bold, healthy, and vigorous nature could force itself out into the free air of heaven; and these circumstances bring us now to the point of time when a political as well as a poetical interest awoke in Freiligrath, and he found himself constrained to fling himself into the arms of the working and combatting spirit of the age. His friends had already made an attempt to win over his genius to the cause of progress. They had represented that he had lingered long enough in the deserts; had wandered long enough with Arabs, Moors, and Redskins, and that it was at length time for him to think of his own people, and native land. Freiligrath, however, for a time turned a deaf ear to these suggestions, only replying: O could I follow but your beck! But the scorched desert's gloomy charm I choose, though barren is the trackGrows in the desert not the palm? he did not perceive that the highest talents are given for the good of the race, and that their most sacred duty is to assist in breaking those bonds of despotism, which destroy all human happiness, and with it human virtue, and nobility of character. But the direction of his mind once given, it could not, in a frank and noble nature like his, long rest. He began, with the year 1840, to infuse some political element into his poems, though it was yet uncertain, and unsettled in its aim. His verses on the commencement of completing the Cathedral of Cologne, and on the execution of the Spanish General Diego Leon, bear testimony to this. In this later poem Aus Spanien," he still expresses this view of the poet's mission in the lines, 66 The poet stands upon a higher fortress, Than on the pinnacle of party zeal. To this pinnacle he was, however, destined to descend. Herwegh addressed one of his most fervent lyrics"Party" to him, which, however, seemed for the moment to excite rather than to convince him. Freiligrath replied to him in a poem entitled "A Letter," in a cutting strain. Herwegh replied in a "Duet of Pensioners" aimed at him and Emanuel Geibel, who also had received a pension from the Prussian monarch. Heinzen renounced him in the "Rheinishe Zeitung," and Robert Prutz wrote a witty parody on one of his own poems, to ridicule his political faith. The liberal writers did not spare him-but Freiligrath let the storm blow over him. It was not persecution, but conviction that must move him. He was a But such were the circumstances of his native country, that they could not long fail to operate on an honourable mind of fine sympathies, when once it had begun to ponder on them. He looked, and beheld his Fatherland oppressed. He saw in its princes, men who had pledged themselves to the freedom of the people, and had not kept their pledge. They had owed their crowns to the valour of the people, and they had deceived and crushed the people in return. He saw the power of despotism every day advancing. He saw the liberty of the press and of speech annihilated. He had soon practical proofs of it in his own case. pensioner, and the Censor did not hesitate to suppress or to mutilate his most innocent verses when sent to a newspaper. He looked further, and saw fair and open trial refused to the accused. Any man might be snatched from his family and the light of day by the capricious tyranny of the authorities, and cast into secret dungeons, tried in secret by secret judges, accused by secret accusers; every demand for a fair examination of his case before God and his fellow citizens denied. He saw the land oppressed by immense standing armies, and by as immense a police. There was a system of most subtle and complete espionage established, which destroyed personal confidence, and tended to lower the standard of both public and private honour and independence, and seeing this once fully and clearly, there was but one course for him. It was vain to talk of poetry having nothing to do with politics. That would only be to say that a poet was the most ignoble of men. He felt that, on the contrary, poetry was one of the highest gifts of God, and that his gifts must be employed in his service, which is that of liberty and humanity. Freiligrath was not a timid time-server, a selfish, finicking petit-maitre, a hollow outside of a man-he was a man and must act as one. He resolved at once to make a stand against the despotism which crushed his country, and he did it at the cost of all his prospects in life. He was living at ease in one of the most beautiful regions of his great and beautiful country; honoured by his countrymen for his genius, pensioned by his king, reaping a harvest of literary profit from his popularity-he put all aside with the determination of a heroic spirit, and declared for the people and their enfranchisement. Perhaps never was there a greater astonishment than that of the German public, when suddenly, in the year 1844, a book by Freiligrath appeared bearing the title of "Ein Glaubensbekenntnisse," or "Confession of Faith." The astonishment was not lessened by reading its motto from a letter of Chamisso-“ Matters are as they are. I am not gone over from the Tories to the Whigs; but I was when I opened my eyes, a Whig." Then came a stanza saying" Open trial to the prisoner-fling all obstruction into the flood-let the bold shot of this book dash into the choke-damp of the present day!" The preface said "The latest turn of affairs in my narrow fatherland, Prussia, has bitterly undeceived me, who belonged to the hoping and trusting, and it is to this that the greater part of the poems in the second part of this volume are owing. None of these, I can calmly assert, have been made, they have sprung livingly from the events, as necessary and unavoidable a result of this shock to my sense of right and my own convictions, as the simultaneously conceived and executed resolve to return to the hand of the king my much-talked-of little pension. At the commencement of the year 1842, I was surprised at its being conferred on me: since the commencement of the year 1844, I have declined to receive it." With a candour worthy of his character, Freiligrath confessed the error of his former notions. He tells the people that he has only passed through that process which they have to pass through in their endeavours after political consciousness and political education into a national whole. That the worst that they can have to twit him with was, that he had stepped down from the "higher fortress" to the "pinnacle of party," and there he confesses that they are quite right. "Firmly and immovably," he then adds, "advance I to the side of those who with brow and breast are opposed to re-action. No more life for me, without Freedom! Whatever be the fate of this book and of myself—so long as the pressure on my country continues, will my heart bleed and rebel; so long shall my mouth and my arm continue unweariedly to labour with my countrymen, according to my ability, for the achievement of better days. In that resolve may, next to God, the confidence of my people help me! My face is turned towards the Future!" The readers of this Journal are pretty well acquainted with the style of Freiligrath's compositions, from various translations that we have, from time to time, given, or we would give some specimens of this volume, which is full of bold and spirit-stirring lyrics. He exclaims"The poet must go along with the people." His breach with the old system was total and incurable. He declared that he had broken the bridge behind him, and left himself no path of return. "Forwards! forwards, till beyond the grave." He invites his friend, Hoffman von Fallersleben, to visit him on the Rhine before, the sword of his own verse had driven him thence. In a poem called "High Water," he bids his wife be of good cheer to leave all to God; that the world was all before them, and that so long as he had a hand and a head she should not have to beg. And, in fact, there was not much time to lose, if he cared for his safety. Extreme as was the joy of the people over such a new ally, as great was the wrath of the powerful against him: The servile portion of the press denounced him; the government ordered his arrest. The book was ordered to be seized, but spread like wild-fire all over the country. He escaped into Belgium, but only escaped arrest in Brussels by six hours. He then sought refuge in Switzerland, and lived in the neighbourhood of Zürich about a year. Every day only proved more clearly the extent of the sacrifice that the upright poet had made for his principles. His enemies triumphed; his friends were silent; those calling themselves friends reproached him: others wrote formally and renounced his friendship as that of a base, bad man of revolutionary notions. But he had made up his mind to suffer. He bore the pulings of affected well-wishers over his rashness, his folly in sacrificing a certainty of honour and support: over his presumption in daring to imagine that his solitary act and voice could influence the fate of his country. He went forth calmly, though not unwounded: but even these evils were not all. His writings, which were his support, were interdicted, publishers dared not sell them; newspapers dared not even give place to his compositions. The government had succeeded in annihilating the means of his support, and hoped to drive him to despair or death. But it failed: Freiligrath had yet another resource. In his youth he had been brought up to commerce, and commerce and England were yet open to him. During our sojourn in Germany the fame and manly genius of Freiligrath had particularly attracted our attention. We had made his acquaintance, and nearly the last days we spent in that country were with him and his accomplished wife in their beautiful retreat of St. Goar, on the Rhine. Under his present circumstances, it appeared clear to us that England or America were the only countries in which he could live with safety. We pressed him to come hither. We had urged this upon him before his leaving Brussels; but the idea of the expense of a residence here had deterred him. But we continued to urge the necessity of his securing himself by taking up his abode in England--and at length he consented, and agreed to renew his connection, for a time at least, with commerce. About two years ago he arrived; and we had the satisfaction of introducing him to the great German house of Huth and Co., and seeing him safely established in the employ of that house, in which he has continued till the moment of his departure. For nearly two years has Freiligrath, by far the most popular of the living poets of Germany, resided in England-and we should have felt that the literary men of England had done themselves much greater honour had they shown that they were aware of the presence of so distinguished a guest. It is true that Bulwer and Monckton Milnes have visited him in his modest abode at Clapton, and Barry Cornwall and a few others have invited him to their houses, but Freiligrath is the last man alive to be lionized, and this has led to something very like neglect. He scorned to make himself a burthen to any one. He determined to subsist by the labour of his own right hand. So far as this country was concerned, he asked nothing, but a means of maintaining himself by allying himself again, for the time, to commerce: so far as Germany was concerned, he bided his time. He knew that he had left his fiery lyrics circulating like the life-blood of freedom in its veins; and from time to time he still sent over fresh electric flashes of his genius to arouse his Fatherland to the assertion of its liberties. And that time came! The hour arrived. Roused from her trance by the glorious act of France, Germany sprung up, overwhelmed her tyrants, humiliated them; brought them upon their knees before her. She declared for and conquered her own liberty; and one of her first acts was to recall her exiled patriots and her patriot poet. Ferdinand Freiligrath has returned to that country from which he almost believed himself excluded for ever. He has returned to justify his writings and his deeds. His last poem written in Switzerland, " Ça ira," seems to have fulfilled its prophecy. Where are now the croakers, and the bewailers, and the sympathizers? They will hide their diminished heads: but the poet returns to his enfranchised country, accompanied by the blessings of all the better spirits of his nation; and ready Such cir to assist in founding her future constitution. cumstances as these do not occur to a poet once in a thousand years. But there is one notice that must not be omitted here. We must pay to Ferdinand Freiligrath a just tribute to the manner in which he conducted himself during his exile. Had he done as only too many have done on coming here; had he resolved to seek the favour of the aristocratic instead of the commercial section of the community; had he located himself West instead of East of London; had he made a loud outery about his sufferings and his persecutions, why there would, no doubt, have been a loud outery made about him. There would have been a vast parade of sympathy and patronage. He would have been invited to the tables, the soirées, and the crushes of the great. He would, in short, as Ugo Fosculo has well expressed it, for he had tried it-" have been made the lion of two seasons, and then voted a bore." But Freiligrath has shown himself a true poet. He has shown that he knew and honoured his high vocation. He disdained to make himself a political or a literary pauper. He put a constraint on himself for his own honour and that of his country, and for awhile devoting himself to that which is most honourable--that which builds nations and makes princes-Commerce-he has lived free and returned free! It is a circumstance for himself and his countrymen to glory in, that there never was a man of distinction-there scarcely ever was any man who came to this country, who lived so long in it, and who returned hence in a manner so erect, so manly, so honourable, and so independent, as Ferdinand Freiligrath! And this has been felt and evidenced by the numerous, intelligent, and wealthy class of his countrymen who are residing in London. Amongst them, as well as by a very large class of the people of intelligence and refinement of our own nation, he has been received and regarded with the warmest friendship, esteem, and admiration, as much for his modest manliness as for his brilliant genius. His countrymen in London testified their sentiments towards him by giving him a splendid farewell dinner at the Crown and Anchor Tavern, where about one hundred and twenty of them were present, and where they presented him, as a parting token, with a fine collection of the works of the best English writers. I have to regret, that indisposition prevented me from staying out this banquet, to which these gentlemen did me the honour to invite me, or I should there have expressed those sentiments of admiration for the poet of liberty; of respect for the man, and warm regard for the friend, which I have endeavoured to stamp upon this paper. Die deutsche Freiheit, lebe hoch! Der Freiheit's Dichter, Ferdinand Freiligrath, lebe auch jubelnd hoch! You tell us that the rich alone You say, if but the rich can have It matters nothing that the poor O, to be sure! it's right-quite right! Moses once said, "Who sheds man's blood, Christ's spirit than book-letter:- You say, from this law, the command Kill not!" says God :-is then the state, You teach, God will avenge the blood The murderer's hand doth spill; And pay them, men to kill :- But, thank God, WE KNOW BETTER! 'Tis true, you call him, who so dreams, THE ELEPHANT KRAAL. WE have seen one or two notices of the late Kraal at Kornegalle, chiefly filled with strictures, on the doings of the visitors, but we have as yet seen none that gives a tolerable idea of the doings of the elephants; or the doings of this most remarkable spectacle that Ceylon can exhibit. Many of our readers who have never been in that beautiful part of the country which was the scene of operations, and cannot boast of leisure sufficient to enable them to enjoy the sport, may be glad to know what an Elephant Kraal really is-we subjoin the sketch of the last. "We left Kandy at two o'clock for Kornegalle, a distance of twenty-three miles; the road was most beautiful and some of the views were more splendid than anything I had ever seen before in Ceylon, particularly one from Mr. Villier's estate at the head of the Galle-Mahout or rider on her shoulders and appeared pergeddra Pass. When you first come in sight of the low fectly tame; she ate oranges and plaintains from our country, the road winds along the brow of a mountain, hand, and seemed to enjoy them very much. It was and comes suddenly on an opening, where you look wonderful to see her place a great cocoa-nut, husks and down a lovely valley, surrounded with the most mag-all, in her mouth; and critsh and crack it as a nut nificent mountains, covered with verdure to their very cracker would a filbert. A very delicate slice of bread summits. The only thing wanting to make it perfect and butter was also given, but she would not even was water, but this is the case in all our Ceylon views. taste it. She performed several tricks such as picking up As we approached nearer Kornegalle, the road put me a sixpence with her trunk, lying down, trumpeting, etc. so much in mind of home, the meadows at each side of etc. It is a very old elephant, and has been in the posus with the cattle grazing on them were quite home session of government more than forty years. It is scenes, and raised up all our sad thoughts and wishes to valued at 2,000 rupees. She has been christened Sybe once more in dear old England. rebbery and is a great favourite with every one. It was dark before we reached our destination, but the road was quite illuminated with the fire flies, which are most beautiful in this part of the country. We were most anxious to know what o'clock it was, but it was so dark that it was quite impossible to see even each other. At last one of the lovely little creatures flew within reach, it was soon secured and placed on a watch, and its light was so strong that we were able to satisfy our curiosity. We arrived at Kornegalle at ha'f-past 8 o'clock, where we were most hospitably received by our kind friends Mr. and Mrs. Morris, and found their house literally crowded with visitors congregated for the morning's expedition. We started next morning at half-past 5 o'clock, on horseback, for the Kraal, which was about twenty miles from Kornegalle. For the first hour or so it rained so much that we were not able to remark the country we were passing through, but about seven o'clock the sun appeared, and it became very pleasant indeed. The road, or rather bridle path, lay through paddy fields: for the first six miles it was most admirable ground for a good roadster. The next four were through a thick jungle, and the sun being strong it shaded us very pleasantly. The flowers were most lovely, the magnificent Exoria grew in abundance, also one of the "bottle brush" tribe of the most beautiful blue. I remarked a very handsome yellow flower very like a laburnum only much larger, which hung most gracefully in bunches across our path. We crossed a lovely river, called the Dedra-oya about four hundred feet wide. Everything looked so tranquil and quiet, several beautiful trees drooped over it and bathed their graceful branches in it. I quite envied our horses drinking its placid clear waters. We reached the Kraal about nine o'clock, the latter part of the road lay along the bed of the Kimboolwanya, which at this time of the year was quite dry. Our English friends would have been highly amused had they caught a sight of our suddenly created village of Kraal Bungalows, which were made entirely of the leaves of the Talipot Palm, our rooms were hung with red and white cloth, and our furniture very much in Robinson Crusoe style. All this added very much to our amusement. In front of the Governor's Bungalow a kind of triumphal arch was erected, most tastefully ornamented in the native fashion, with plaintain leaves, cocoa-nuts, pine apples, etc., etc. There were eight Bungalows altogether, also a bazaar and several huts, so that we had quite a village of our own. All this was erected by the natives in a few weeks, and did great credit to those employed in raising it. We were very much tired after our ride and did nothing all day, but lie on the sofas and talk over the anticipated pleasure of the next morning on which the Kraal was to take place. Next morning as we were going into breakfast, we were startled by the trumpetings of an elephant which appeared to be just at our elbow. Our alarm was soon over, as one of our party came and told us it was only one of the tame elephants brought for our inspection. She stood just outside our door with the Before I proceed further it is necessary that I should give a brief description of the Kraal itself and the manner of capturing the elephants. About an acre of jungle is formed into a square enclosure, leaving only a small opening to let the elephants enter; the palisades round this enclosure are about eleven feet high, and at one end, two wings extend into the jungle for some hundred yards on each side of the opening, so as to form a long wall screened by the forest, the use of which is to prevent the elephants, should they hesitate in entering the Kraal, from escaping at either side. An elevated stand is erected on one side of the enclosure for the spectators; it is about twice as high as the palisades, so that we look down into the Kraal-I believe that Kraal is a Dutch word which signifies an enclosure. The men who drive the elephants into the Kraal are called the beaters. These men are out for several days before the Kraal takes place, in search of the elephants, who come down at this time of the year, (July,) for a plant called kooranna which is then ripe-the kooranna is a kind of flax. The beaters, when they discover the elephants, light their fires and torches behind the poor animals to drive them on towards the entrance of the Kraal; always keeping in a circle to prevent them from returning. They are then forced on close up to the entrance of the Kraal, where they are detained, to wait for the final "drive," when they are compelled to advance within the enclosure. The moment they are in the Kraal, the entrance is closed up and they are safe inside, where they keep charging all round the enclosure, but are repulsed by the beaters who are stationed round. These people, when they see the elephants approaching the fences of the Kraal, scream with all their might; this frightens them so much, that they turn to some other point, where they meet with the same reception. Two thousand people were employed in this Kraal, and the principal part of these came without any remuneration, as to a National Sport; indeed, if they were even offered such a degradation, they would leave the Kraal and return to their homes. We were told that the drive was to take place after Tiffin, so at two o'clock, we all marched down to the Kraal, expecting to be almost too late for the sport. However, when we arrived there, it was stated that it would not happen for an hour, perhaps two; we resigned ourselves as well as we could to our disappointment, and sat down most patiently to await the coming of the Elephants. At length, as we were talking and laughing together, we were startled by a scream rather than a shout, from the crowd round the stand, and on looking round, we saw the people evidently very much alarmed, running here and there, and throwing each other down in their fright. In a few minutes all was quiet again, and we were told that it was only one of the wild elephants that had separated from its companions, and was trying to break the line and escape: however, the screams of the people had frightened it back again. Hour after hour passed slowly away, and still no sign of the elephants; it became quite dark about half-past six o'clock, and we were obliged to sit in darkness, as |