THE CLUB.

Although we cannot in India make much display of an upper ten thousand," or of "a bloated aristocracy," yet we do our little best to keep up class distinctions, and we do or do not belong to the Club! If we do St. Peter will, without further certificate, admit us into Paradise; if not Hades yawns a greeting.

And yet the ordinary Mofussal Club is not a very formidable affair, being much in the nature of a respectable pothouse, where village wights meet to exchange—“ Heaven save the mark "-their ideas.

But be the building ever so humble, it confers none the less the hall mark of respectability, and will probably lead to your forming a "how d'ye do" acquaintance with such swells as the Collector, possibly even with the Commissioner, but this is too much to expect.

Next to having a pretty wife who can and will flirt with the powers that be, the best way to succeed in India is to get the reputation of being a good Club Secretary; it means good stations, and the hills on full pay. I knew a man once who combined a flirting wife to unrivalled powers of managing a Club; he soared to such giddy heights that I should be accused of romancing if the tale of his glory were to be here unfolded.

A room for ladies is always provided, and, strange to say, the further off that room is from the main building the quieter and pleasanter is the Club.

Agra can boast the best Club in the N.W.P., thanks to that ami in time of royalty, the great and good Sir J. No mistake possible; there is but one Sir J., Knt. Had he not been called to greatness in other ways he would have gone down to posterity as the best cook in Asia. Even now, when entertaining crowned heads and lordly T.G.'s, Sir J. never disdains to take

off his coat between two courses, and

go out to the kitchen, where he gives certain finishing touches; on his return he puts on his coat, wipes his hands on the part of the table-cloth nearest him, and resumes the conversation unconcernedly.

The Allahabad Club is the home of the "sing song." What is a sing song? Oh, ignorance, hearken! It is a clear moonlight night in May; on the lawn in front of the Club some forty or fifty men are seated in long deep chairs, smoking; they have dined,. they are happy! The Secretary's voice is now heard, "Gentlemen, have you ordered your favourite poison? If so, I call on Mr. M. to sing 'Father O'Flyn.' O'Flyn.'" A lazy murmur of approval goes round, and the next minute a rich bass voice booms out the song named; when ended, M. calls on whom he pleases, and so on ad lib. All is done comfortably seated, with smoke and drink mighty adjacent.

A BOBBERI PACK.

Some of the jolliest mornings I have ever spent have been when scampering after a good big jackal, which is the most usual victim pursued by that strange collection of mongrels dignified by the title of bobberi pack; but foxes are often run into, and on rare occasions an old grey wolf has kindly offered his services.

The pack of which I was joint owner with a chum consisted of two half-bred Rampore hounds, huge huge lean savages; two unadulterated village pariah dogs, never sick or sorry; three animals which, when presented to us, were termed retrievers, and which out of politeness we continued to call so; and, finally, an ever-varying number of leggy fox terriers. Musical, m' yes, a little too musical; but yoicks! gone away! Don't stand there doing the captious critic, but let your horse rip, and look ahead for concealed nullahs and other pitfalls.

We started from home at 4.45 a.m., thus can hunt for nearly two hours; then home to chota haziri and tubs, and so to work by eight o'clock, feeling very fit and beany.

The keep of this noble pack of hounds, together with their feeder's pay, cost us about Rs. 80 a month. If any M.F.H. would like a few tips on economy we shall be delighted to favour him!

VOLUNTEERS.

"This ain't all beer and skittles, swelp me Bob," said our smart-looking SergeantInstructor, as he wiped the sweat from his brow, and the panting flanks of our horses fully attested the truth of his remark.

We rather fancied ourselves across country, in the Volunteer Light Horse; our only General called it scouting, but we were not proud, and contented ourselves with riding friendly steeplechases on all possible and impossible occasions, which no doubt brought in much valuable information.