“An expedition having been resolved upon, we surrounded,” says Dr. Morice, “the hill which served as a retreat for the monster. More than one hundred and fifty natives were present, shouting, gesticulating, and creating the most awful clamour which ever troubled a tiger’s siesta. As for us, the French inspector, a French soldier, and myself, we were in the plain, sprinkled with small mounded graves, which extends behind Tayninh, and waited in patience until it pleased the tiger to show his precious skin. It seemed to be his opinion that the boldest policy was the best; for in less than half an hour after we had drawn our noisy cordon he emerged from the wood, and advanced towards us. He was received with a rolling fire. Of our four balls one at least struck him, for he made a movement of pain, and turned towards the soldier who had accompanied us. That our movements might be more free, we had separated at some distance from one another. The soldier immediately leaped upon a mound about three feet high, and with his loaded gun in his hand bided the wounded animal’s onset. A second ball from the inspector’s rifle hit him; but disregarding this new provocation, and yearning for his prey, he dashed towards the tumulus. With one bound he was at its foot, where he reared himself erect. Then took place a strange and lamentable scene, which showed how even the bravest lose their self-possession when face to face with these terrible beasts. That the soldier was a man of courage, numerous incidents had proved: it was he who had shown the most ardour in organizing the expedition; he had in his hand a first-rate rifle, and only the length of his arm apart was the white chest of the tiger, which seemed to await his death-dealing bullet. Well, for a few seconds he contented himself with striking the outstretched paws before him with the butt-end of his musket. The tiger extended his body, seized with one of his claws the unfortunate man’s leg, and began to drag him off.” “A man touched by a tiger is a dead man,” says a German naturalist; “and it is useless to risk the life of another in an attempt to snatch from the cruel beast the mutilated victim whose sufferings will soon be terminated by death.” Such cold-blooded reasoning never prevails on the scene of action. Both the doctor and the inspector pursued the tiger as he still hauled along their comrade’s body; and two bullets, more fortunate than their predecessors, arrested his course for ever. On examination, they found that their unfortunate companion had sustained a severe wound. Dr. Morice amputated his thigh in the hut to which he was transported; but, whether from loss of blood, which Europeans can ill afford in tropical latitudes, or from the violence of the shock to the nervous system, he died that same night. * * * * * ~VISIT TO THE MARKET-PLACE.~ ~ANNAMITE AND CAMBODIAN.~