To those whose Oriental imaginings have led them to expect in the first view of Indian land some lovely scene of groves, temples, and clustering palm-trees, the sight of the long low line of dismal sunderbund and swamp must not be a little disappointing. Saugor, however, Bengal tigers, and the fate of young Munro, are associated subjects, naturally blended with our earliest recollections. Full oft in my boyish days had I gazed on a picture representing the monster springing open-mouthed on his victim, and wondered if it would ever be my lot to visit a country where pic-nics were disturbed by such ferocious intruders. Viewed, then, as the head-quarters of the tigers, and the scene of this memorable exploit of one of their body, and also as the outpost of our destination, I deemed Saugor a sort of classic ground, and gazed upon it with a proportionate interest. Many an eye, too, besides my own, was bent towards the island, which wore a most sombre and miserable aspect. Thinking Mr. Merryweather a person likely to be well informed on the subject, I ventured to ask him, civilly, if tigers were as numerous on the island as in young Mr. Munro’s time. I at the same time solicited the loan of his telescope, thinking, peradventure, I might by its aid descry a royal Bengal tiger, in full regalia, enjoying his evening perambulation on the beach. The pilot stared at me, with as much astonishment as the Brobdingnag did at the Splacknuck, when he heard him talk, or Mr. Bumble, in Dickens’ admirable novel, when the unfortunate Oliver asked for more soup; but soon settled it in his mind that I was an arrant griffin, and that it was not worth his while to be particularly civil to me. “Tigers!” he grunted out; “Ay, ay, there’s plenty o’ them, I dare say; but I’ve something else besides tigers to think about, young gentleman; and you mustn’t talk to me d’ye see, when I’m engaged with a wessel. As for the glass, it’s in hand, and you’d better ask some one else to lend you one.” To borrow the language of the fancy, I was regularly floored by this rebuff, and incontinently held my peace, determining to reserve my zoological inquiries for a fitter occasion and more communicative person; at the same time, lost in astonishment that a man could actually pass his life in sight of Saugor island, and yet feel no interest in royal Bengal tigers. The delusion is a common one, and not confined to griffins, which leads people to imagine that others must be interested in what they are full of themselves.