Mr. Thomson recounts a tale of a planter in this province, who, returning home after a carouse, a little too much under the influence of Scotch whisky, was sorely bested by a Tiger. “It was rather dark, and verging on the small hours of morning when MacNab, mounting on his trusty steed, set his face towards home. Feeling at peace with all men, and even with the beasts of prey, he cantered along a road bordered with mangroves, admiring the fitful gleams of the fire-flies that were lighting their midnight lamps among the trees. But soon the road became darker, and Donald, the pony, pricked his ears uneasily as he turned into a jungle-path which led towards the stream. Donald snuffed the air, and soon redoubled his pace, with ears set close back, nostrils dilated, and bristling mane. Onward he sped, and at last the angry growl of a Tiger in full chase behind roused MacNab to the full peril of his position, and chilled his blood with the thought that his pursuer was fast gaining ground, and that at any moment he might feel the clutch of his hungry and relentless claws. Here was a dilemma, the cold creek before him, and the hot breath of the Tiger in the rear. A moment or two were gained by tossing his hat behind him, and then Donald cleared the streams at a bound. The Tiger lost his scent, and Mr. MacNab reached home in safety, by what he delighted to describe as a miraculous escape.” To us, who “live at home at ease,” life would seem to be hardly bearable in a place when one is liable, any day, to meet with such an adventure as this--with every chance, too, of a less pleasant termination. But it is astonishing how indifferent to the presence of wild beasts the inhabitants of these countries become. Even Europeans soon acquire the same fearlessness, or, rather, apathy. Of this Mr. Thomson gives a striking illustration:--“In these sparse settlements of Malays and Chinese, Roman Catholic missionaries are at work. I once fell in with one of these priests, shod with straw sandals, and walking alone towards Bukit, Mer-tangrim (the pointed hill), to visit a sick convert who had a clearing upon the mountain-side. His path lay through a region infested with wild animals; and when I inquired if he had no dread of Tigers, he pointed to his Chinese umbrella, his only weapon, and assured me that with a similar instrument a friend of his had driven off the attack of a Tiger not very far from where we stood. But the nervous shock which followed that triumph had cost the courageous missionary his life.” THE LEOPARD.[17]