the lurid dust clouds like some irresistible genius of the scene. An uninitiated spectator would have been certain that this creature possessed far more sagacity than either he or any of his species were ever born with. Accounts of his performances utterly false would have been written with the best intention toward truthfulness, because no casual observer can detect those secret signals that pass between an elephant in action and the man upon his neck, to whom his whole behavior is due. Lall Ras, however, was brave, an enthusiast in the jungle, and he never stupefied himself with opium when on duty. Thus it was that the Khan scented out cold trails, divined likely lying-up places, followed upon the recent pugs of a tiger with unerring certainty, crossed seemingly impassable country, pointed to the lurking savage with rigid trunk-did most of those apparently marvelous things in finding game, giving warning of danger, and aiding in attack, which astonish tyros so greatly. All this time, if we may judge from other instances, the elephant had been plotting murder. If the circumstances under which an act of this kind occurs are known, it is not difficult to determine whether or not it was premeditated. Except trampling and dismembering the fakeer, Abdullah Khan's whole history acquitted him of the weakness of yielding to any suddenly conceived temptation toward homicide. A hatred unbetrayed by the slightest signs of hostility grew up and deepened in his sullen spirit until the fatal hour arrived, and then he never failed. Lall Ras the Kandala's fate had been fixed, heaven knows how long, before that night now rapidly drawing near. It may be that the exciting scenes of our hunt precipitated it, but his doom was sealed most probably at the very time when I heard him giving thanks to Kali on account of his security. This much is certain if the elephant then intended to kill him, nothing short of forsaking his charge could have saved his life. Many entirely authentic accounts of the origin of causeless enmity upon the part of the elephants exist, but no one has ever known them to forgive a real or imaginary injury, to abandon a purpose of vengeance, or to spare the victim when in their power. Nothing lower than a man is so perfect in hypocrisy. The best trained eyes look in vain for some indication of what is to come; and this power of dissimulation and concealment is the most striking example of mental development an elephant ever exhibits. Late in the evening of an unsuccessful day we turned back toward camp. Fatigue and illfortune depressed everybody, and even the light of our fires burning red in the thick air failed to reanimate us. As we straggled along in the gathering gloom Abdullah Khan ranged alongside of my tusker for a few moments, and his appearance attracted my attention at once, though I soon forgot it in the silence of a douche bath and anticipations of dinner. His ears were half-cocked, his eye glared, and white was visible all round it. There was a wildness in his air and motion not to be described. "Kyahye, what is it, Lall Ras," I shouted, "that disturbs the Khan?" "Astagh-fur-ulla, God forbid, your highness, that he should be disturbed!" answered the outcast, using a Mohammedan expression rather than no expletive at all. "He desires rest and food, that is all." This was the last mistake the mahout was ever to make; these were the last words I ever heard him utter. The almost unfailing hilarity of a hunter's dinner was absent on that occasion. It was one of those dreadful nights of India when the dense irrespirable atmosphere lies upon the earth like a pall, and the tide of life ebbs with failing energy. We got into our sleeping dresses as soon as possible, and each man forsook his tent and lay upon an angarep beneath the dark boughs in order to get the benefit of any passing breeze. Little came; the breathless darkness was broken at intervals by a low, deep sigh, but it brought no refreshment. All tossed restlessly in the irritation caused by exhaustion and inability to sleep. Slumber, broken and disturbed, fell at length upon me, but not for long. A harsh, ear-piercing scream from an elephant rent the silence, and in the hush that followed there arose indistinct outcries, with a confused sound of hurried movements and the clashing of chains. Then immense shadowy forms moved swiftly and noiselessly before our view, and a panting peon rushed up to where the colonel sat on his camp bed and said something. The situation was made known to us immediately, as he called out in clear, distinct tones : "Rouse, gentlemen, and take your rifles; there is trouble on the elephant line, and the drivers have bolted with their animals." We responded at once, and, lighted by flaring native torches held by our scared attendants, hurried across the open that lay between our tents and trees to which the elephants had been chained. All these standing places were vacant. An Indian mahout knows the character of his charge too well not to get this untrustworthy stood were marked with the same ominous sign. creature away from the contagion of excitement whenever that is possible; and the drivers had unshackled and fled at the first sign of danger. At some distance on the left stood a solitary tree, where Abdullah Kahn had been fettered apart from the rest, and as we approached this his giant bulk loomed beneath it, rigid, dark, and motionless as one of those great idol elephants that stand before the ruined temple of Soonput Gheeno. It is useless to describe his expression. No man, not even an artist, takes it without long study of its lineaments, the significant feature of an elephantine face; and the fell and deadly look Abdullah Khan's then wore is not to be represented by words. As his trunk writhed toward us we saw that it was dabbled with blood, and his knees, feet, and the ground on which he All was silent around, and no answer came to our repeated calls for Lall Ras. He was dead, of course; no one doubted that, but what had become of his body? The circumstances attending this murder can only be guessed at. This beast had waited, who can tell how long? until the man was alone, then killed him, and the single scream of rage that burst from his destroyer was the only token of this tragedy recognizable by those who were near. We searched the vicinity carefully, but for a time in vain. At length a tent-pitcher, peering into some dense scrub, felt a warm, heavy drop fall on his naked shoulder, and there, lodged among the branches, hung Lall Ras, to whom it had been revealed at Agra that this could never happen-tramped into shreds and hurled forth by the elephant he had tended for years. TRILBY-LAND! That is the general characterization under which the studio life and artistic Bohemia of Paris presents itself to the imagination at the present time-and with reason, for Du Maurier's work is informed with the very animation and finer spirit of the Quartier Latin. But Du Maurier was in it and of it a generation ago, or during the intervening period between Henri Murger's "Vie de Bohème" and to-day. Not that the ideals of art or the sentiments of its enthusiastic followers have changed essentially; only the personnel and local coloring have undergone, and are daily undergoing, modifications. To present a few fleeting glimpses of this Parisian art-student life, in its most modern aspects, with the aid of fresh photographs and sketches, is the object of the unassuming compilation offered herewith. For a preliminary outlook upon this fascinating realm let us borrow the notes of an American student (J. Luther) from the West: "To the uninitiated the idea of art study in Paris is something rather vague and undefined, and the Parisian studio a place surrounded by an "interesting" halo. To those who have never studied art it seems a mere pastime, an easy way of spending a happy-go-lucky existence; and there was a time, and not so very long ago either, when an art student was considered a careless, shiftless sort of person, rather to be looked upon with distrust. "In reality, the life of an art student is one of hard, intense work; hard, that it takes all his energies, his force of character, and his time; intense, that in order to accomplish anything worth while he must lose himself for the time being in his work, and so make himself a part of it. The constant effort to make the hand say what the mind sees to be right is one of the most fatiguing occupations of which the body is capable, especially so when the hand absolutely refuses to do the mind's bidding, as the poor student often finds to his sorrow. "Perhaps no better idea can be given of the Quartier Latin, where the artists are wont to congregate, than that found in 'Trilby.' It was written by one who knew that little world well, and had experienced to the utmost the pain and pleasure of it. My experience of the Quartier Latin was in simply passing through its precincts. The narrow street, the dingy buildings, the hatless women and children in the doorways, the dis agreeable odors, the tiny shops and the cafésthe many, many cafés. The French as a nation are an open-air people, and do everything out of doors, from washing to eating, and their cafés, large and small, are a characteristic of Paris, and are found all over the city at every turn. On the grand boulevards they are gorgeous affairs, full of glittering lights and gay colors, with music and crowds of people, who seem to have no business in life but to sit idly at little, round, iron tables and drink brandy, absinthe, vermouth, and kindred beverages dear to the Frenchman's heart. The large, brilliantly lighted rooms are filled with tables, and the sidewalks so crowded with them that the passers-by are obliged to walk on the curbing or in the street. When the walks are very wide there are often rows of little fir trees as a sort of screen in front of the tables, and the effect is very pretty. easels and high stools, which every one uses im preference to chairs, and the platform for the model. "We were expected to arrive promptly at eight o'clock A. M. The model was posed at once and we worked forty-five or fifty minutes, then rested ten and continued with the short rests each hour until twelve o'clock. "Twice during the week M. Collin came to correct and give each pupil a few minutes of his precious time. His corrections were always to the point and no unnecessary words were spoken. I shall never forget how my heart quaked when I heard his step on the stair outside and realized I had not done all I had hoped to do. It was a sort of judgment-day feeling, in that we knew there was no time to make a change and our work must stand for just what it was. There was always a dead silence while he was in the room. "But we will return to our mutton, and not In fact, he requested that no one should speak be led astray by the cafés. Perhaps the best known of the working studios are those of Julien and of Carlo Rossi, and there is, of course, the great École des Beaux Arts, to which only men are admitted. Carlo Rossi and Julien are simply the managers of the studios and not the artists and teachers, as many suppose. They arrange with the artists, who come to correct, and all matters of business are conducted by them, never by the managers themselves, who consider such matters as beneath their dignity. They engage the models, and the bills for tuition' are paid to them. "The artists, as a rule, do not like to take pupils into their private studios. I worked while in Paris under the superintendence of M. Raphael Collin-not in his own studio, but in his sister's, with whom we made special arrangements through the friendship of one of our own party, who knew her personally. It was a small studio, with simply four casts and the |