Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 36, Number 108, 25 February 1911 — Page 2

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CArTURINO t wild elephant live Is considered such a difficult and hazardous undertaking that elaborate expeditions are usually organized for the purpose, but In Slam, where elepaants are mpldycd to do most of - the hard work connected with felling timber, building roads and similar operations and where, consequently, the big animals are required In large numbers, the natles capture them wholesale. Elephants are plentiful enough in Slam, where they gather In large herds, but It would be almost impossible to capture them save by the use of strategy jUi, natives resort to the old expedient of employing "a thief to catch a thief," or In other words, of using tamed elephants to catch the wild ones. When the Siamese Government Is la need of elephants, a herd of wild ones is sought out. "Then expert.eucvfl elephant hunters and alnitwt every Siamese is taught from childhood how to handle the big beasts axe sent out with a number of tamed elephants, some of whom are mounted, while others art allowed their full liberty. The tame elephants without riders are used as "stool pigeons," so to speak, and mingle with the wild herd, while the hunters surround It The tame animals among the herd know almost as well as their matters what Is expected of them, and they urge their wild companions to follow them toward a specially constructed corral, or kraal, as they call It, built of strong timbers with large doors. - In this manner the whole herd Is lowly but surely driven through forest and field, and sometimes even across large streams. Once in a while out uf the older elephants trie to break awiiy, but Is as a rulo easily driven back by the hunters, who are armed with long spears, with which they goad tbo recalcltrntitk iuto line. Wheu the herd H Hearing the corral, the bunch Is slowly thinned out until It forms in single file, the animals trottlug willingly behind ench other. A tame elephant leads the line and enters the corral, and all the others follow him quite unsuspectingly. As soon as "they are all Inside the stockade, the doors are closed and it Is not till then that the wild elephants realize that they have been deprived of their natural liberty. noniottines they charge the barrier and Injure themselves In consequeuce, for the stockade Is built of sturdy teak logs, twelve feet high and driven eight or nine feet Into the earth. Usually, however, they ncqukvie In their fate. After they

iTSie -Sttnirra siimd the

jrTiilKKi; is a choice of caddlea," I vtild my friend tit Advocate. , "Now, will you take Character or the gowfr?" "Oh. by all meana," I said, "give m the rharm'ter. ll Is In my vein. The (owfer would hoM mo very cheap, lie would be a trying: taskmaster; and today, at any rate, I am out for pleasure. o let nte have the character." I was only a visitor to the Links, "where the Advocate, undeterred by my mall skill In the floyal and Ancient (lame, had most kindly Insisted on my Tlaylng a round with him. I had told him honestly what he might expect, but the good man would not be denied, lie said he feared men at gamea they did not understand, and I would have felt complimented but for memories ef the Heathen Chinee. The Advocate made haste to aay that Ah Sin had not been In all his thoughts; and In golf, to he sure. It Is Impossible to .keep a long drive or a fell putt up no's sleeve, except metaphorically. So I accepted the Invitation In the spirit In which It waa ottered; and now a beautiful afternoon, clear and sunny nd bracing, as only Northern afternoons can be, found ua ready to begin. You need not try to discover the loculty. There are other places where the sea Is blue, the salt spray flies In feathery plumes from the crest of the waves, the sands arc golden, and the greens are velvety and fragrant after rain. But what, you say, of the river, rich In noble salmon the river that winds beneath one perfect Gothlo arch? AVhat of Thomas the Rhymer, and Ceorge Gordon Noel. Lord Ryron, and the weird prophecy that made him dismount at the bridge? Oh. my dear sir. you know too much. Besides, you are quite wrong; and I am Just going out with my friend to May golf, more or leas, and my caddie Is a character. Wo shall discuss topography aaother day. Wo picked up our henchmen at the corner of the fence, and the gam began. It was quit unereatf ill. There waa Bo great distinction or great disgrace on either side. Perhaps the dull mediocrity depressed Duncaa. He kept. his character welt hidden under his long and loose feleck coat, which had a auspiciously elrteal cut. I have little doubt. Indeed, thaj It was the gift of some reverend ad golfing father. Uf caddie, however.

have quieted down somewhat they are lassoed with strong ropes and their legs are tied to the strong posts of the stockade. The wild elephant of Slam is not generally eavase, but unless he U harassed he is quite gentle, and the elephant drive la witnessed by large numbers of the population who follow the drive without fear of any danger. Of course, there are plenty of savage elephants in Slam, but these, as a rule, do not travel with the herds, but roam singly through the primeval forest. The natives know well enough to leave them alone, but tlaey provide the moat exciting sort of sport for the foreign huntsman. The King of Slam is an expert ou elephuuts, and he invariably at-

SET--- f "TVThe Wild Herd Follows the Tamed Elephants Even , Across Broad Streams. tends an elephant drive with his whole suite. A regular grandstand Is erected near the entrance to the corral, from which point of vantage the King and his royal suite witness the process of capturing the elephants. The King is a great camera tlend, and from his royal loge he takes many an Interesting snap-shot of the big beasts. Often the proceedings are enlivened by a contest between a tame elephant and one of the herd of wild clepuunts who discovers the treachery of his companion and shows his resentment by attacking him. These elephants furnish great amusement for the natives, although they usually separate the combatants before much harm is done, not so much, It must be admitted, from humanitarian motives as had a rcas-wrlng manner. Ilia coat seemed to have endued him with Christian charity, for never by word or look, or what Is still more terrible In a caddie by Indefinable and satirical superiority of manner, did ho make one feel that it had been better not to have been born. Only by this and by occasional hearty words of praise quite well deserved, although I say It myself unblushlngly did Duncan show that he was a man out of the common. But he said nothing original, and I was frankly disappointed with him. The fact that it was Monday night might have had something to do with his lack of brilliancy. Who knows what subtle influence a coat may bring from a former wearer, and the Cloth, one knows. Is never at its best on the second day' of the week. Th quip pleased me for a time, but afterward I heard a more rational explanation ot Duncan's moodiness. The truth Is. he l.i never quite himself on Monday, because on Sunday he shaves. With Duncan that is a weekly ceremony. On Saturday, when the bristles hedge his jowl like a xarcba, his wit Is at Us sharpest. But on Monday, when his lantern Jaws are overcast with melancholy blue, Duncan's spirits take the same tone. When he is dull he broods on an event, which was In some ways fortunate for him. but not an unmixed boon, for It robbed him for ever of the great pastime and passion of hla life. Duncan's honor make his renunciation final. Anti-sentimentalists may read further without fear. This Is no mawkish tale ot blighted love, but one that a good sportsman may hear and repeat without reproach. It Is well to remember that Duncan Is a sportsman first and foremost. Considering how his wings are clipped nowadays, one wonders whether it would be more correct to say that Duncan was a vportsman; but perhaps the present tense U still true. The desire must be there, although fate haa taken away the performance. In his day Duncan was doughty performer. The mer mention of his pastime makes his eye light up for a moment.' Then the gleam fades and a wistful look takes Its place. Some day some night again who knows but. nay; Duncan, whatever his fallings. Is a man of honor. Some say he gave th SMrra his word for It It does not matter

from the fear that the animals may kill each other, and the herd be so much the smaller as a result After the return of the Crown Prince of Siam from Oxford. England, and this country, a special elephant drive was arranged for his beueflt A herd of two or three hundred wild elephants was located in the jungle and a large cordon of tame animals was employed for the round-up. The affair was made a great society event and all the flower of Slam's aristocracy was on hand to watch the proceedings. The royal elephant drive used to be an annual event in Siam, but of recent years the custom has died out and these round-ups occur on y on special occasions or when the need for animals makes them necessary.

The Siamese Hunters Use Long tbat the Shirra is dead and gone langeyne Duncan keeps faith with the departed; if, indeed, there was any formal pact, which I take leave to doubt. Probably there was never a more curious situation on any golf links In Christendom. It appealed to the Advocate, who told his part of the story very well, I hope I may be enabled by the muses to conceal the denouement as cleverly aa he did until the last moment. Well, as I remarked, there was surely never a queerer situation on any golf course than that which is the cause of humor in this story. That it could have arisen at all Is due to a peculiarity of the Scots Judicial system. This circumstance is quite as It should be in a tale wherein a Sheriff, an Advocate, a caddie, and an indifferent golfer and scribbler are concerned. How fortunate it Is for literature that Scotland kept her own laws at the Union! No, my dear but captious friend, I am not conceited. I assure you my thoughts were all of Sir Walter Scott, the Shirra of Shlrras. But the odd situation occurs at the end of th story. There Is a beginning, likewise a middle, to be unfolded first; for this little drama, as befits a thins born In an ancient university city, is framed on the strictest Aristotelean canons. The beginning was enacted by the riverside, the middle in a court of Justice, and the end upon the links. At the beginning, strangely enough, we lose sight of our protagonist. That may only have been because th action a sadly Illegal actiontook place in the twilight. It is Impossible to decide the matter with any certainty. Some said it was and some said it wasn't, and, truth to tell, it must have been bard enough to see. But the water bailiff said he had noticed a figure armed with a cleek not the golf iron of that name, but a different Instrument with a different use moving ctealthily along the deep-wooded bank toward the cruives. For a while the man eluded him: he waa evidently an old hand; and at length the bailiff thought he had taken fright and made off. The official's cottage stood not far away. He turned about and sauntered leisurely homeward. Going . in, he banged the front door smartly, and Immediately hurried out by the back way. Yes. his stratagem had succeeded; his man had been watching and had been quit deceived.

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Poles to Goad the Big Animals Caddie It was a good Idea to bang the door. "Na, na, my mannie," ho thought, as he went along with careful steps, "I'm no at my supper for a bittie yet. There's you to catch first." It was deep gloaming now, and a few stars were already reflected on the reach of water above the cruives. The bailiff, like all his clasm of open-air men, was alive to the joys of a fine evening, but this was not a time for sentiment. He had his duty to do. Ho would take his time, however, and his man in the flagrant act. Dimly outlined against the faint sheen of the water, the figure stole out upon the crulve and remained motionless. Crouched behind a bush the bailiff bided his time. His lieutenant lurked not far away. The eky grew darker, the stars winked more brightly, the light sough of the wind among the trees and the song of the river became more audible as other sounds, the sounds of the workaday world, slackened and died away. The bailiff noted these things as he watched and waited. Ah, at last! A splash, a commotion, a struggle, then stillness again, save for the rush of the water over the cruives. The baUlff met his man just as he stepped carefully oft the wooden baulk on to the bank. "Ay," said the bailiff casually, "that's a braw nicht." "No that in," the other answered, trying to pass, but the bailiff's hand was on his shoulder, the bailiff's voice was In his ear, "And thon's a braw fish ye've gotten. Maybe ye' 11 hae the civtiity to lat me tak" chairge o "t." . Sullenly the shadow handed over the salmon. "And noo," continued the bailiff, "ye'll juist favor me wi your full name. Oh ay. I ken ye tine; but I dinna ken whether It's your Christian nam or your surname that ye gang by. The law requires us to be exact, ye see. If the name a'body gens ye by be your Christian name, tell me your surname, or the tlther wye a boot, aecordin' to the facts o the case." The unfortunate adventurer set hfs captor right, gave him a dry good-night, and departed heavy-hearted to await the hand of justice. Like all systematic lawbreakers, he knew the procedure as well as any lawyer. In a day or two Ais offence would be dealt with by summary complaint before the Sheriff. There could be but one end to It. All the same, he would take car that the trial should not cost him a day's work. II. The Sheriff paid little heed to the name of the accused, and even tf he bad, it . would not have suggested very much to him. He was glad that the list had been so short to-day; for; he was due at the

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A Corral, or Kraal, of Sturdy Teak Logs Into Which the Wild Elephants Are Lured.

The Fascinating Gamble

. IT .AQf1 tf t Vl f fortunes made by auccessful playwrights how the authors royalties on a single popular drama may Insure him an income ot from $100 to $500 per week, according to the number of companies engaged in performing It, through the -entire season of forty weeks, and con tlnuing for a long period of years. No wonder that more stage manuscripts are written than any other kind almost . everybody who writes at all should make . at least one trial for this rich prize, even without any training whatever in this most exacting department of the literary art. That playwriting is, even with the adepts, no more than a fascinating gamble is again shown in connection with the reading in London of the late Into Line. links early tn the afternoon. The last case had just been called; a summary complaint In a matter of salmon-poaching. It would not hinder the Court very long. The Sheriff gave it all the attention that a strict sense of duty demanded. That did not preclude some pleasant thoughts of golf. If the accused pleaded guilty, so much the better; the Court would be on the links all the sooner. But there was no one there to plead. No matter, it simplified things considerably. The accused was not represented. The water bailiff and his lieutenant gave conclusive evidence of the crime; service of the summons was also proved. The Court was satisfied. Guilty. Five pounds or three months. Immediately the Court rose. Amid the bustle of dispersal there was some talk between the bar officer and the water bailiff. "Hoot ay," said the bailiff, "ye'll get him easy. He's never far awa'. Juist send a Bobby ower to the links during the afternoon, and he canna miss him." "I suppose," said the Clerk of tha Court, "there's no chance of his being able to pay, is there?" The bailiff shook his head. "Nana ava," he said. The warrant for committal was accordingly made out in due form, and a policeman was instructed to execute It. This ths worthy officer proceeded to do at his ponderous leisure, and when at length he reached the place where he expected to find his prisoner, he was told that he must wait at least a couple of hours, as the condemned was fulfilling a professional engagement, and was for the moment beyond reach of the law. In strict etiquette, perhaps, the law fehould have gone in search of the lawless, b-jt the prisoner's return was certain. Why should a corpulent officer (the town boys called him "Fatty Annie") exert himself overmuch? There was no reason. It was a 1eautlful afternoon. The Law sat down in the sunshine- and waited for opportunity to do its duty. HI. It is only in Scotland that the caddie attains to that perfection of renpeciful .familiarity which has endeared him to the popular Imagination. His Cockney brother may have a more flashing and mordant wit. but he is fettered by traditions of caste. Between him and the man for whom he carries there Is a great gulf fixed. The master, too, is for the most part as much fettered as the man. He ,may nor, even tf he would, draw out the caddie too freely, lest the plebeian should lose his head and presume. Even if he did not lose his head, the Southron caddie would be apt to think that the player who joked at large with him could not be altogether a gentleman. The gayety of golf courses may possibly suffer, but there is no help for It. Ia the North, however, ft ! r otherwise. Th Sheriff.

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it Captain Robert Marshall's will. Captain Marshall wrote a score of successful plays, yet the will lumped them all together a3 having a value of $1 each! At least three of these plays "His Excellency the Governor," "The Second in Command," and "The Duke of Kllliecrankie" can be counted among the most popular productions of recent years. One week's royalty dues from Mr. Charles Frohman for "His Excellency the Governor" alone amounted to $98. What, then, was the explanation? As with most mysteries, the truth Is probably simple enough. This was proved in a talk with Mr. Henry Bridgland, of French's, upon whose shelves so much of the present-day English drama awaits either Immortality or the duster. "There Is probably nothing in the whole world where value la so utterly Incapable of being reduced to rule as that of a stage-play. Roughly speaking, a play may be worth absolutely nothing, or it may be worth many thousands. "The actual value of plays, so far as the future is concerned, can hardly be gauged by any one. One may take it, indeed, that a new play by an unknown author is, until its production, valueless. If it is a success its worth makes up instantly to hundreds and thousands as the case may be. "Always, of course, the bigger the play and the more elaborate the production necessary, the greater

By Laurence North

with but a step between him and the full judicial scarlet, may hold a Socratlc dialogue with his caddie, to the detriment of neither party. Even Senators of the College of Justice itself may do likewise. Dignity is never compromised on either Birle. Duncan's reputation as a character had endeared him to the Sheriff, and that afternoon, when Uie Court appeared on the links, it was not ill pleased to find the shabby humorist at its service. As it happened, Duncan was just then wearing a cast-off coat of the Sheriff's, which might .possibly, in accordance with a theory already Indicated, give a legal color to his reflections. There was another bond between master and henchman that afternoon, but one of them at least did not supect It Early in the game the Sheriff got a bad lie. He asked for his Iron. Duncan hesitated and cocked bis eye at the man of law. "I would tak that to avizandum, Shirra," he suggested. Now for the benefit of the uninitiated, bo it said . tyat avizandum is the term used in Scots law to signify that th Sheriff has reserved judgment. "Well?' queried the Sheriff. Duncan handed him his niblick. Ho was justified of his choice. A moment later the Sheriffs ball was well up on the green. I didn't know you were learned in the law, Duncan," the t-'heriff remarked, as he holed out, and they moved towards the teeing ground. "Oh, freely," Duncan replied, "although we've maybe aftener seen the inside o' the kirk than the Shirra Court." The Sheriff's partner was an eminent divine, who happened at the moment to be within hearing. "Were you at the kirk on Sunday, Duncan?" the divine asked. "Oh. ay, sir." "What was the text?" "Thou shalt not steal," Duncan answered, with a queer look. "Quite right," said the divine approvingly. The game claimed the attention of all parties, and for a time there was a lause in dialectic. A little later, when the partners were separated by the exigencies of play, the Sheriff continued, "I suppose Mr. Maclagan gave you a very fine discourse. Duncan." "He diJ that, sir; I wat he can preach better than he can gowff. although that's nao sayln muckle. But I maun say there was ane or twa pints on which I cottidna' agree wl' him." "Indeed?" said the Sheriff; "and what were they, Duncan?" The follow-up of a neat brassey stroke gave the necessary Interval for Duncan's reply. "Weel. ye see, sir, as Mr. Maclagan's congregation doesna consist exactly o' the criminal classe?. it was rayther wl' the spirit than th letter o' the law that be was concerned. As he said himi'.

How tlie Big Animals

Caught in Where tKe ' ' Elephant Is a Frequent Event of Playwriting the risk. Take, for instance, soma of the Drury Lane dramas that have ceased touring and that demand aa enormous amount of mechanism and a large stage. If they were revived at Drury Lane they would instantly be worth money at any rate, to the authors. But under ordinary circumstances they might be so much waste-paper. "On the whole, I should say that the play that has brought more money to the owners of the copyright than any other in the history of the stage is 'The Silver King. For twenty-eight years it has been running somewhere or other in England, America, or the Colonies without a single break. It is still on tour. "Among the more recent plays that have brought fortunes, there is, of course, 'Peter Pan though it Is possible that of all Mn Barrle's plays 'The LItUe Minister has made most, with its enormously successful tours. Mr. Shaw is credited with having added a very tidy sum to his exchequer by his vogue in Germany, but in general Continental rights are not worth as much as might be thought, as the runs are shorter than they are here." As showing that the playwright himself does, after all, share pretty largely in the fruits of his labors. It was recently calculated that the total royalties made by Sir Arthur PInero, Sir William Gilbert, Mr. Henry Arthur Jones and Mr. Barrle would In each case run well into six figures. ho took a high spiritual view o his text, and dwalt on the sanctity o' property generally. I liked him weel eneuch when he denounced the iniquity o' ;lie hast to be rich, and the more doubtful methods o' the stock market; but I wish he had made an exception. There's the game laws, for instance. I can not see, sir, how the wild thing, be it beast o bird, or fish for that matter, can be the property o a landlord. We're told that the earth Is the Lord's and the fullness thereof,' and that surely means that th ' good things are free for man." "I fear. Duncan, that wouldn't bo a defence in law against poaching." "Ye ken. best about that. sir. I sup. pose you never heard it offered?," "I have not." t "It mlcht ha been offered, Duncan sighed, "if I had been the pleader." "Vou would have got credit for Ingenuity, but not a verdict, I fear, Duncaa ah, Mr Maclagan ha lost his balL J see." . They went over among- the whins te help in the search, and for the reat of the match Duncan spoke only when his official duties required. As the play- -ers returned to the clubhouse, the corpulent officer surged up from a kooll, and kept them in view t a respectful distance. As soon as Duncan had received something "for manners," and the major officerof the law had turned away, the minor lind moved toward the caddie and touched him on th s-houlder. at the same time producing his warrant. "What has he gi'en mtV the prisoner asked, nodding in th direction of the Sheriff's retreating figure. "Five pounds or three months.' "Will ye bide or I clean his clubs?" eur?ly'" th policeman. But dinna be ower lang about it" Within doors the Sheriff and his partner sat over a cup of tea. Another player entered with news. "Poor Duncan's taken up," h remarked; "the bobby's waiting for him salmon "re" months poahmg "Good heavens!" the Sheriff ex VJt' J9 ,he tha poor vil I sen. tenced to-day? But the name Jet mm see? I thought It waa Morrison." "His name's Duncan Morrison he always gets plain 'Duncan here " "If I'd only known" . ma.ll the Sheriff. He did not close his conditional statement, tut merely added, "Poor Dun. can!" , ... The policeman and his charge passed th club windows. A few moments later th steward brought in the Sheriff clubs faithfully cleaned, eniiaciiiM Next day, to everybody's surprise. Duncan was carrying as usual. The exact circumstances of his relea wer never explained, but nobody doubted who had paid the fine. The fact tbat he never poached aaln led some acute persons to suspect a bargain; but, frank ly I think they take too low a view of human nature. That waa not tha Sheriffs way.