OUR INDIAN STATIONS.* THERE is a good deal of truth
underlying Colonel Barras' ludicrous description of the profound ignorance of the British taxpayer regarding our Indian possessions, an ignorance, indeed, that may be said to take its rise in apathy. Although there may be few persons who are in so hopeless a condition as to be capable of designating the Ganges as a mountain-range, there are, on the other hand, numbers who cannot realise any difference between one portion of our vast Dependency and another, and to whose mind the Panjab and Madras, Bombay and Assam, are all alike as to the conditions of existence, and the sights and experiences to be met with therein. The Colonel has, therefore, had a happy idea when he thought of supplementing his amusing book on tiger-hunting by a description of the various Indian stations, some of them very remote, to which a young officer is likely to be sent, and of the different kinds of sport in which he may indulge without going in for the ruinous expenses of shikar on a grand scale. The writer has already commended himself to us, not only as one to whom the study of Nature and human nature affords genuine amusement, but also as a true lover of animals, although he does not scruple to pursue some of them in quest of sport. These tastes enabled him to bear with tolerable equanimity his time of exile at Aden, and the still more trying residence on the islet of Perim. Of the former he says :—" It is, I should think, the most difficult place in the whole world to describe accurately. Very few Europeans have seen it, because, be their residence on this mighty rock one of years or of hours only, their hearts are always fixed on some distant land, and their eyes fast-closed to the marvellous and savage beauty which is ever spread pathetically and in vain before their melancholy gaze." Colonel Barras seems to have opened his eyes to the full upon the principle of getting as much as he could out of any place where he might happen to be posted, and he is able to give a very graphic picture of the extinct volcano of Shurn-shum, rising in its blackness abruptly out of the sea on one side of the small, land-locked harbour backed by clusters of houses which bear the designation of Steamer Point; of the camp and its appurtenances, lying at the bottom of the stifling crater ; of the heights of Mashag, where you may sit in the open bungalow at the foot of the gigantic flagstaff, enjoy the sea breezes, and watch the fishermen, the sea-gulls, and the ospreys, while keeping a sharp look-out for passing vessels ; as also of the huge water- tanks, some of them of great antiquity, replenished perhaps once in three years by the great deluge that falls from the skies with such fury, accompanied by roaring thunder and blazing lightning. On one such occasion, not merely was a loaded camel blown off the heights of Mashag into the sea, but even in the lower region a massive ordnance-shed, filled with weighty ammunition, was washed into the Gulf of Seers, and never heard of more. After speaking of the dreary monotony of life at Aden, which he cannot help calling a vast Castle of Despair, Colonel Barras proceeds to tell us how such a life may be ameliorated,—namely, by picnics to the top of Shum-shum or to Gold Mohur Valley, by coursing the large foxes and little hares peculiar to the place, by catching the abundant and singularly beautiful fish, and even, perhaps, by obtaining a glimpse of the great sea-serpent, which was said by "several officers of scrupu- lous veracity " to have put in an appearance within a few hundred yards of the beach. One should never, says the writer, cede one inch to ennui when banished to such places as Aden and Perim. Fishing, boating, bathing. athletic sports for the sepoys, and many other healthy pursuits are at hand, and with a good, sure-footed pony and plenty of books, a man need never be quite miserable. Perim, however, all-important as it is in a strategical sense, seeing that it is really what the author calls it, —" a sort of little Chubb's lock to the Red Sea "—is nothing
• Eta New Shilari at our Indian Stations. By Julius Barras. 2 vols. London : Swan SonnenEchein and Co.
more than a ragged islet of blackened rocks, about four miles from the Arabian, and nine or ten from the African coast. It possesses a fair harbour, and a little, box-like fort, garrisoned by forty sepoys, in charge of one British officer ; and although snakes and scorpions, which still flourish there, are said to have been its only aboriginal inhabitants, it now boasts of a population of about 150 souls, composed of Arabs, Somalis, and the people belonging to the lighthouse, and the commissariat and condens- ing establishments.
The coarse grass that springs up after the rains, and the portulacca plant that flourishes among the stones and boulders, afford the only greenery that meets the eye ; but as a few sheep and gazelles can be kept, Colonel Barras considers that rabbits might be successfully induced to colonise there. At any rate, he advises the solitary commandant to start something, to become a gamekeeper instead of a universal destroyer, and to turn his weapons whilst doing so against their enemies, the vermin and reptiles. Fortunately, he himself was not long enough on the station to make much way with his experiments. The sport to which Colonel Barras was mainly devoted, and which he found within his reach at almost every station, was coursing. But he enjoyed it especially because he followed it with dogs trained by himself, occasionally with English ones, but more usually with Persian greyhounds, and even with Pariah dogs. Amongst the latter, a certain 4Roti ' was particularly distinguished for size, strength, and courage, though somewhat deficient in speed. Purchased for six shillings, his master would not eventually have parted with him fur twenty pounds; and many of his brave deeds are chronicled in these pages. Of course, the quarry varied with the kind of country lying within easy reach of each station. Now and then we have a spirited account of a boar-hunt, or a ride after black buck, but these are rather the exceptions; jackals seem to have been always at hand, and to have furnished not merely capital sport, but handsome fur rugs when their days were numbered. Colonel Barras tells us a good deal that is interesting about this usually despised animal, and in particular gives it as his opinion, apparently upon good grounds, that he is a clean feeder,—that is to say, that he only condescends to garbage and carrion when driven by hunger to consume such things. Under favourable circumstances—as the natives know to their cost—the jackal consumes water-melons, sugar-cane, and other tender vegetable produce, adding more substantial aliment in the shape of such birds, hares, and other ground game as he is able to surprise. But in districts where there is no cultivation, he eats the berries of the biter—a shrub somewhat like the gooseberry- bush, found in great quantities all over the the country— standing on his hind legs to reach and draw down branches laden with the tempting fruit. Falconry was also much enjoyed by Colonel Barras, although, on account of the expense attending it, he could only carry it out on a small scale, and eventually found it expedient to abandon it altogether, but he gives it as his opinion that a young man fond of riding across country could get more regular enjoyment out of this sport than from any other in India. In his own case he derived the most satisfaction from his beautiful Persian greyhounds.
Belgaum the author pronounces to be the nicest of all the stations allotted to troops in the Bombay Presidency, its soil being so especially propitious to the growth of trees and flowers ; and flowers have a great attraction for Colonel Barras, who describes the great fields of poppies grown for opium at Indore and elsewhere as of surpassing loveliness, surrounded as they are by an emerald bordering of bearded wheat, and studded with topes of mango-trees.
In concluding the second volume of his New Shikari, we are glad to find the writer giving us a promise of even more attractive matter in descriptions of the wild tracts of Afghanistan, where, as he himself says, the scenery, the inhabitants, and the shikar are very different from what one meets with in India.
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