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train pulls up at the small station of Raxaul. Near the booking office an elephant fidgets first on one leg, then on another, restlessly waving its trunk and jostling heedlessly a diminutive pack-pony grazing by its side. The passengers file out of the station; one, cleverly mounting the elephant by its tail, opens his Fox's paragon-frame umbrella, and all disappear towards the golden sunset, into a background of purple and green. By this and other tokens we realize that the limit of transport by modern western methods has been reached, and that onward India, in its