gateways are disguised with branches of trees and bamboos stuck in the ground, so as to give them the appearance of a natural jungle,) the greatest difficulty is to get the herd to enter the first or outer inclosure: for notwithstanding the precautions taken to disguise both the entries, as well as the palisades which surround this inclosure, the Palmai (or leader) now appears to suspect some snare, from the difficulty and hesitation with which in general she passes into it; but as soon as she enters, the whole herd implicitly follows. sure. Immediately, when they are all passed the gateway, fires are lighted round the greatest part of the inclosure, and particularly at the entries, to prevent the elephants from returning. The hunters from without then make a terrible noise by shouting, beating of tomtoms (a kind of drum), firing blank cartridges, &c. to urge the herd on to the next incloThe elephants, finding themselves ensnared, scream and make a noise; but seeing no opening except the entrance to the next inclosure, and which they at first generally avoid, they return to the place through which they lately passed, thinking perhaps to escape, but now find it strongly barricadoed, and as there is no ditch at this place, the hunters, to prevent their coming near and forcing their way, keep a line of fire constantly burning all along where the ditch is interrupted, and supply it with fuel from the top of the palisade, and the people from without make a noise, shouting and hallooing to drive them away. Wherever they turn they find themselves op posed by burning fires, or bundles of reeds, or dried grass, which are thrust through the opening of the palisades, except towards the entrance of the second inclosure. After traversing the baigcote for some time, and finding no chance of escaping but through the gateway into the next inclosure, the leader enters and the rest follow: the gate is instantly shut by people who are stationed on a small scaffold immediately above it, and strongly barricadoed; fires are lighted, and the same discordant din made and continued till the herd has passed through another gateway into the last inclosure, the gate of which is secured in the same manner as the former was. The elephants being now completely surrounded on all sides, and perceiving no outlet through which they can escape, appear desperate, and in their fury advance frequently to the ditch in order to break down the palisades, inflating their trunks, screaming louder and shriller than any trumpet, sometimes grumbling like the hollow murmur of distant thunder; but wherever they make an attack, they are opposed by lighted fires, and by the noise and triumphant shouts of the hunters. As they must remain some time in this inclosure, care is always taken to have part of the ditch filled with water, which is supplied by a small stream, either natural or conducted through an artificial channel from some neighbouring reservoir. The elephants have recourse to this water to quench their thirst and cool themselves, after their fatigues, by sucking the water into their trunks, and then squirting it over every part of their bodies. While they remain in this inclosure they continue sulky, and seem to meditate their but the hunters build huts and form an encampment escape; as it were around them close to the palisade; watchmen are placed, and every precaution used to prevent their breaking through. This they would soon effect if left to themselves, notwithstanding the palisade is made of very strong stakes stuck into the earth on the outside of the ditch, and strengthened by cross bars and buttresses, as already mentioned." In this inclosure they are kept confined for a few days; after which they are enticed one by one into a passage leading from the keddah, too narrow for them to turn round in, and from which retreat or advance is prevented. When a large elephant finds himself inclosed in this place, he advances and exerts his utmost force to break down the bars, which were previously put across a little further on in the outlet, by running against them, screaming and roaring, and battering them like a ram, by repeated blows of his head, retreating and advancing with the utmost fury. In his rage, he rises and leaps upon the bars with his fore feet, and strives to break them down with his huge weight. When the elephant is somewhat fatigued by these exertions, he is bound in nearly the same manner as the elephant captured singly by means of the decoy females; and is afterwards led away and treated in a similar manner. It is a remarkable fact that the elephant, notwithstanding its boasted sagacity and power of memory, will suffer itself to be a second time driven into the keddah, after having regained its liberty, though it has lived only for eighteen months wild in the woods. Mr. Corse relates an instance of this kind, where a runaway male in a surrounded herd, instead of taking alarm as might have been expected on the first shout of the hunters, and setting the example to its inexperienced companions of breaking through the line, suffered itself to be driven from circle to circle to the last fatal inclosure, where, notwithstanding he at first appeared equally wild and fierce with the rest, yet the moment he was addressed in a commanding tone the recollection of his former obedience seemed to rush upon him at once, and without any difficulty he permitted a driver to be seated on his neck, who in a few days made him as tractable as ever. The difference of disposition in the captured elephants is so great, that a given time for rendering them safely manageable can hardly be assigned. An instance has occurred where every effort has been made for ten years to reduce an elephant to obedience, but in vain. This animal was repeatedly offered for sale at a low price, but his character was so well known that no one would purchase him. The process of training an elephant, so that he shall perform the ordinary duties and learn to be guided from place to place, is mostly effected by a series of coaxings and rewards, rarely of punishment. He is entirely under the care of one individual, who is destined to be his future conductor. This man, seated on his neck, guides him by means of an iron instrument shaped like a boat-hook, called the Hawkniss. With this he twitches his ear, or presses the point on his head or neck; which actions being combined with pressure of the knees on the sides of the neck, the elephant learns to understand as the horse does the applications of the bitt or spur. Instances, however, have occurred where an injudicious and brutal use of the hawkniss has so enraged the noble animal that he has torn his driver from his seat, and dashed him to pieces. Notwithstanding the massiveness of his frame, the elephant is not without a certain degree of lightness in his motions. He has a tolerably quick trot, and easily overtakes a man at full speed; but as he cannot turn rapidly, one may escape by turning suddenly to one side. Being specifically lighter than water, he easily swims; and his motions in that element are of the most free and lively description. Every one who enjoyed the sight of the elephant sporting in his bath at the Zoological Gardens during the summer of last year must acknowledge the gratification and surprise excited by the ease and variety of his actions. Notwithstanding, however, the liberal space allowed for his paddock and pond, our sagacious animal seemed not contented until he had rendered his domain still more analogous to the favourite haunts of his species in their native clime. This he effected by forming a miniature swamp in the immediate proximity of his pond, pumping up with his proboscis repeated quantities of water, and treading it into the soil, which thus was soon converted into a mud bath of a few feet in depth. In this he seemed peculiarly delighted, rubbing and rolling himself about, and expressing his gratification at the same time by uttering peculiar shrill guttural notes, and flapping his ears. In a state of nature this species prefers the banks of rivers, for heat as well as cold annoys him. He is under a constant necessity of moistening his hard and rough skin, which other wise is so apt to be excoriated; and he not only waters it, but throws over it dust, grass, straw, &c. Although this integument is so thick, it appears nevertheless to be extremely sensible, especially about the face, the legs, and the under part of the neck and body. We have sometimes seen the young elephant above mentioned, in the Society's menagerie, take a small branch in his trunk, and switch away the flies the moment they alighted on any of those parts. The hairs are few and scattered, but are most abundant on the upper part of the head and neck. It is probable that their growth may be excited by the change of climate; and the young elephants seem more abundantly supplied in this respect than the adult. We shall return to this subject in a future Number, when we come to speak of the extinct species of elephant which was found frozen in the river Lena in Siberia; as the skin of this singular animal was found defended with both wool and hair. Although the proboscis of the elephant is a continuation of the nose, it is not properly a continuation of the organ of smell, the membrane with which it is lined not being adapted to receive the impressions of odorous particles. In fact, had it been so, it would not have been adapted for its real and more important uses, viz. of conveying the aliment to the mouth, more especially liquids. When he drinks, he draws up the water into his trunk by a kind of inspiration, and having filled the two canals which traverse it, he carries the extremity of it to the back of the mouth, and (the upper part of the windpipe being protected from the current) empties the canals by a violent expiration, and literally blows the water down his throat. Of his mode of taking up solid substances little need be said. If they are very small, they are seized between the finger-like process of the trunk and the opposite flattened part, as between a finger and thumb; if of larger size, the end of the proboscis is turned round them; if scattered upon the surface of the ground, he sweeps a larger proportion of his inimitable prehensile organ around them, and assists it by opposing his fore foot to the substances he is collecting in a mass, and thus prevents them receding from the trunk. By means of his fore foot also he strikes up the earth or gravel into a heap, around which he twines his trunk, then changing the curve from the horizontal to the vertical direction, lifts up all that lies on the concavity of the curve, and dextrously flings it over his head. The utility of the domestic elephant is chiefly experienced THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT. 49 in transporting heavy burdens: in modern warfare he is used only to carry baggage or drag along artillery; his dread of fire rendering him in actual battle more dangerous to his employers than their enemies. His consumption of food, however, is immense, and renders him an expensive auxiliary. In India he requires daily one hundred pounds of rice, to which must be added fresh vegetables and fruits: the finer animals of the rich are also treated with butter and sugar.-The full-grown elephant Chunee, when in Mr. Cross's collection at Exeter 'Change, consumed daily three trusses of hay, and about two hundred weight of carrots and other fresh vegetables, together with from sixty to eighty gallons of water. THE AFRICAN ELEPHANT.* IN the preceding description the elephant is seen under all the favourable circumstances that an association with man is calculated to produce. His wants being supplied, his passions *When this figure was taken, the tusks had not appeared. Zool. Mag. No. 2. E |