BRIDAL EVE. ALF robed, with gold hair drooped o'er shoulders white, Upon the mirrored beauties of her face; And o'er the distances of dark and light PHILIP BOURKE MARSTON. THE CORRAL. REVIOUSLY to the year 1832, up to which period the feudal servitudes remained in force in the island of Singhala, the royal pastime of the corral, with all its attractions, was distasteful to the majority of the European residents. The knowledge that from fifteen hundred to two thousand natives had been compelled at their own cost to provide the stakes and cordage for the enclosure, and were labouring unpaid to mark down and track the elephants, intruded at times an importunate reflection, which marred the enjoyment of the sport. There were, moreover, visible signs among the Indians of suppressed rage and rankling discontent. Their black looks and sulky submission jarred painfully with the joyous humour of the paid attendants, and few spectators were sufficiently insensible to be entirely unaffected by the contrast. The abolition of statute labour in the island produced an immediate and thorough change. The native, paid for services the performance of which is altogether in accordance with his propensities, finds himself in the fortunate position of the famed Israelitish matron, paid by Pharaoh's daughter for nourishing her own infant. The tribes employed are the Panikis, or native huntsmen inhabiting the Moorish villages of the north and north-western divisions of the island, and as these are principally distinguished by their passion for the chase of the elephant, it may be imagined with what alacrity they obey the Governor's summons to assemble for the equipment of the corral. Once in two years, at the end- of the rice harvest, the jungle becomes the scene of what may be almost described as a national solemnity. All classes are interested in its institution and result; the priests encourage it on the ground of the elephant's impiety in eating the leaves of the fetlbeh, a tree sacred to the ancient Buddhist divinities; they also require elephants for the service of their temples. The rich vie with each other in the number and magnificence of their contingent of retainers, as well as in the caste and quality of the tame elephants displayed on the occasion. The middle classes, in addition to the enjoyment of the fête, are personally interested in the diminution of herds of wild elephants, which ravage the standing crops to an extent sufficient at times to raise the price of provisions. The peasant, employed to help the huntsmen, besides the recreation of the sport, has the advantage of regular pay and rations for several months in succession. The corral, of which the name serves to designate the entire proceeding, is in itself an immense amphitheatre destined to receive the elephants driven or rather conducted into it by the manœuvres of the huntsmen. The large trees are preserved within the enclosure, being required for attaching the captive elephants during the process of taming. The smaller trees are cleared from the ground, with the underwood and bushes, except towards the approach from the jungle, their presence being there indispensable to mask the entrance of the ring. At a convenient distance from the corral, under the shade of interlacing branches, rises a one-storied but spacious building, constructed entirely of bamboos and palm-leaves, and bearing the unsylvan name of the "Spectators' hotel." Here are commodious dining-rooms, bedrooms without end, and stores of provisions for a month's occupation. The chamber floors are carpeted with the softest grass, fresh-dried and fragrant from the savannas of Colombo, and inviting to the balmiest rest all those whose prospects for the night are nothing troubled by the certain companionship of vampires and mosquitos, of serpents and enormous spiders. A wine-cellar and bath-room complete this impromptu bungalow, the bath-room being not in this case an impracticable fiction, but a positive and refreshing fact, the close vicinity of water being one of the conditions of the elephant's choice of an encampment. A platform raised from the exterior, but resting chiefly on the massive posts of the enclosure, overlooks the corral, and enables the Governor and his friends to command the entire scene. The posts are planted sufficiently near to each other to prevent an elephant from passing between them, but are wide enough apart to admit the passage of a man. Solid as they are, the fencings are less effectual from their strength than from their imposing appearance; an elephant exerting its power could easily break through them, and instances have occurred where a single breach thus effected has enabled the whole herd to return to the jungle, to the inconsolable disappointment both of the huntsmen and spectators. The resistance of the palisades is, however, far less relied on than the timidity of the elephants, which seem to be unaware of their own stupendous weight, and which regard all unfamiliar objects with mistrust and terror. As soon as the corral is completed, the trackers begin their operations. It is sometimes needful to form a circle of many miles. in order to comprise within it two or more herds of elephants. The trackers, selected entirely from the tribes of the Panikis, have here to exert their utmost skill and patience. The least alarm, the slightest ground for disquietude, would cause the elephants to abandon the track and depart irrevocably. At the same time they have to be kept in motion, and gently urged in the direction of the corral. For this purpose they must be just enough disturbed, and no more. The trackers keep to leeward, and constantly apply to their feet a moistened sponge. The Indian scent might otherwise be taken up by the elephants, which would infallibly produce an instantaneous and probably fatal panic. From time to time the men whisper in concert, or whistle thinly, if at safe distance and sufficiently concealed. On this, the herd rise in a body, agitate their trunks and cars, and look with anxiety towards the spot whence the sound proceeds, till, reassured by the perfect stillness which succeeds, they lay their trunks together and seem to agree that the alarm was false. They then quietly resume their postures, some browsing, some fanning themselves with branches or bathing in the dust, yet all moving off insensibly from the suspected quarter. This same manoeuvre is repeated by the trackers for days and nights together, till by degrees the herd get fairly within the limits of deviation defined by a spacious pathway leading to the corral. The task of the trackers is, however, by no means alleviated; the line is imaginary for all preventive purposes, and formed designedly of wood unbarked, and disguised to the utmost with leaves and branches. Should the wind vary and render necessary a change of ambush, or any casualty occur, either to cause confusion or thwart the conduct of the elephants, the trackers have no alternative but to lie quiescent and await with patience the return of order. It is seldom, however, that the wind varies at that season of the year, and the precautions of the huntsmen are usually too well taken to be frustrated by unforeseen occurrences. Meanwhile the trackers relieve each other with concerted regularity, returning by parties for food and water, and keeping in daily communication with a second line of trackers, posted in the opposing direction, but too distant to need the same degree of watchfulness, or to risk betrayal by revealing scent. This second line is less select in composition than the first, the office of its members being subordinate and the labour comparatively irresponsible. It sometimes happens that in spite of all precautions the troop takes premature alarm. In such case extreme measures are resorted to. A rocket signal makes known the danger to the second line, who, right and left, form circle rapidly, with the first, lighting huge fires between the intervals of the palings, till the entire circumference becomes represented by a burning ring. The elephants rush madly to the frontier limits, where the fires arrest their flight, and they one and all stop suddenly, terror-struck and trembling. At the same moment the hunters start up with shouts from their concealment, waving red flags and discharging pistols in the air. On this the elephants turn back and make directly for the opposing boundary, where the same frights await them, until, driven from side to side, and breathless with exhaustion, they at length reassemble in the centre, shaking with violent emotion, entwining their trunks together, as if soliciting mutual succour, and imparting to each other their afflicting and unaccountable impressions. The result of such a turn of events is, however, not always in favour of the hunt. Sometimes the elephants, grown desperate and unconscious, break blindly through the barriers in spite of flames and scarecrows, and disappear for ever in the depths of some untrodden forest. And even when successful, the end is very often disappointing. After a fright so terrifying, it is usually found hopeless to attempt to restore confidence to the demoralised elephants, and it becomes absolutely necessary to force them to advance. It follows too often that the unconscious actors are driven on the stage prematurely, and the spectators thereby miss the most exciting scene of the performance. It is otherwise when the chase proceeds in the instructed order The daily progress of the herd towards the corral is then regularly and distinctly gradual; the trackers compute the nearness or remoteness of the crisis with surprising nicety, and announce their conclusions to the authorities with admirable assurance. A week or ten days before the term predicted, two scouts are despatched to an agent of the Governor, who thereupon immediately sends round to the friends invited, and enjoins the official staff to hold itself in readiness. Neither staff nor visitors require pressing. Long before the appointed time, the platform and all available supports and footings are crowded to excess. This eagerness, however, on the part of the public by no means influences the march of the elephants, whose arrival is not always as punctual as the spectators could desire. The whole assembly have sometimes to keep their seats, after the opening, for days and nights together, merely passing to and from the hotel when positively necessary for refreshment. None, however, seem to flag; institution of the corral has become a veritable popular |