Wild Beasts and Their Ways, Reminiscences of Europe, Asia, Africa and America. Volume 1

It may be inferred that a grand specimen of a male elephant is of rare occurrence. A creature that combines perfection of form with a firm but amiable disposition, and is free from the timidity which unfortunately distinguishes the race, may be quite invaluable to any resident in India. The actual monetary value of an elephant must of necessity be impossible to decide, as it must depend upon the requirements of the purchaser and the depth of his pocket. Elephants differ in price as much as horses, and the princes of India exhibit profuse liberality in paying large sums for animals that approach their standard of perfection.

The handsomest elephant that I have ever seen in India belongs to the Rajah of Nandgaon, in the district bordering upon Reipore. I saw this splendid specimen among twenty others at the Durbar of the Chief Commissioner of the Central Provinces in December 1887, and it completely eclipsed all others both in size and perfection of points. The word "points" is inappropriate when applied to the distinguishing features of an elephant, as anything approaching the angular would be considered a blemish. An Indian elephant to be perfect should be 9 feet 6 inches in perpendicular height at the shoulder. The head should be majestic in general character, as large as possible,—especially broad across the forehead, and well rounded. The boss or prominence above the trunk should be solid and decided, mottled with flesh-coloured spots; these ought to continue upon the cheeks, and for about three feet down the trunk. This should be immensely massive; and when the elephant stands at ease, the trunk ought to touch the ground when the tip is slightly curled. The skin of the face should be soft to the touch, and there must be no indentations or bony hollows, which are generally the sign of age. The ears should be large, the edges free from inequalities or rents, and above all they ought to be smooth, as though they had been carefully ironed. When an elephant is old, the top of the ear curls, and this symptom increases with advancing years. The eyes should be large and clear, the favourite colour a bright hazel. The tusks ought to be as thick as possible, free from cracks, gracefully curved, very slightly to the right and left, and projecting not less than three feet from the lips. The body should be well rounded, without a sign of any rib. The shoulders must be massive with projecting muscular development; the back very slightly arched, and not sloping too suddenly towards the tail, which should be set up tolerably high. This ought to be thick and long, the end well furnished with a double fringe of very long thick hairs or whalebone-looking bristles. The legs should be short in proportion to the height of the animal, but immensely thick, and the upper- portion above the knee ought to exhibit enormous muscle. The knees should be well rounded, and the feet be exactly equal to half the perpendicular height of the elephant when measured in their circumference, the weight pressing upon them whilst standing.

The skin generally ought to be soft and pliable, by no means tight or strained, but lying easily upon the limbs and body.

An elephant which possesses this physical development should be equal in the various points of character that are necessary to a highly-trained animal.

When ordered to kneel, it should obey instantly, and remain patiently upon the ground until permitted to rise from this uneasy posture. In reality the elephant does not actually kneel upon its fore knees, but only upon those of the hinder legs, while it pushes its fore legs forward and rests its tusks upon the ground. This is a most unnatural position, and is exceedingly irksome. Some elephants are very impatient, and they will rise suddenly without orders while the ladder is placed against their side for mounting. Upon one occasion a badly-trained animal jumped up so suddenly that Lady Baker, who had already mounted, was thrown off on one side, while I, who was just on the top of the ladder, was thrown down violently upon the other. A badly-tutored elephant is exceedingly dangerous, as such vagaries are upon so large a scale that a fall is serious, especially should the ground be stony.

A calm and placid nature free from all timidity is essential. Elephants are apt to take sudden fright at peculiar sounds and sights. In travelling through a jungle path it is impossible to foretell what animals may be encountered on the route. Some elephants will turn suddenly round and bolt, upon the unexpected crash of a wild animal startled in the forest. The scent or, still worse, the roar of a bear within 50 yards of the road will scare some elephants to an extent that will make them most difficult of control. The danger may be imagined should an elephant absolutely run away with his rider in a dense forest; if the unfortunate person should be in a howdah he would probably be swept off and killed by the intervening branches, or torn to shreds by the tangled thorns, many of which are armed with steel-like hooks.

It is impossible to train all elephants alike, and very few can be rendered thoroughly trustworthy; the character must be born in them if they are to approach perfection.

Our present perfect example should be quite impassive, and should take no apparent notice of anything, but obey his mahout with the regularity of a machine. No noise should disturb the nerves, no sight terrify, no attack for one moment shake the courage; even the crackling of fire should be unheeded, although the sound of high grass blazing and exploding before the advancing line of fire tries the nerves of elephants more than any other danger.

An elephant should march with an easy swinging pace at the rate of 5 miles an hour, or even 6 miles within that time upon a good flat road. As a rule, the females have an easier pace than the large males. When the order to stop is given, instead of hesitating, the elephant should instantly obey, remaining rigidly still without swinging the head or flapping the ears, which is its inveterate and annoying habit. The well-trained animal should then move backward or forward, either one or several paces, at a sign from the mahout, and then at once become as rigid as a rock.

Should the elephant be near a tiger, it will generally know the position of the enemy by its keen sense of smell. If the tiger should suddenly charge from some dense covert with the usual short but loud roars, the elephant ought to remain absolutely still to receive the onset, and to permit a steady aim from the person in the howdah. This is a very rare qualification, but most necessary in a good shikar elephant. Some tuskers will attack the tiger, which is nearly as bad a fault as running in the opposite direction; but the generality, even if tolerably steady, will swing suddenly upon one side, and thus interrupt the steadiness of aim.

The elephant should never exercise its own will, but ought to wait in all cases for the instructions of the mahout, and then obey immediately.

Such an animal, combining the proportions and the qualities I have described, might be worth in India about / 1500 to any Indian Rajah, but there may be some great native sportsmen who would give double that amount for such an example of perfection, which would combine the beauty required for a state elephant, with the high character of a shikar animal.

Native princes and rajahs take a great pride in the trappings of their state elephants, which is exhibited whenever any pageant demands an extraordinary display. I have seen cloths of silk so closely embroidered with heavy gold as to be of enormous value, and so great a weight that two men could barely lift them. Such cloths may have been handed down from several generations, as they are seldom used excepting in the state ceremonies which occur at distant intervals. A high caste male elephant in its gold trappings, with head-piece and forehead lap equally embroidered, and large silver bells suspended from its tusks, is a magnificent object during the display attending a durbar. At such an occasion there may be a hundred elephants all in their finery, each differing from the other both in size and in the colours of their surroundings.

The outfit for an elephant depends upon the work required. The first consideration is the protection of the back. Although the skin appears as though it could resist all friction, it is astonishing how quickly a sore becomes established, and how difficult this is to heal. The mahouts are exceedingly careless, and require much supervision; the only method to ensure attention is to hold them responsible and to deduct so many rupees from their pay should the backs of their animals be unsound.

With proper care an elephant ought never to suffer, as the pad should be made to fit its figure specially. The usual method is to cover the back from the shoulders to the hips with a large quilted pad stuffed with cotton, about 2 1/2 inches thick. In my opinion, wool is preferable to cotton, and, instead of this coverlet being compact, there should be an opening down the centre, to avoid all pressure upon the spine. A quilted pad stuffed with wool, 3 inches thick, with an opening down the middle, would rest comfortably upon the animal's back, and would entirely relieve the highly-arched backbone, which would thus be exposed to a free current of air, and would remain hard instead of becoming sodden through perspiration. Upon this soft layer the large pad is fixed. This is made of the strongest sacking, stuffed as tight as possible with dried reeds of a tough variety that is common in most tanks; this is open in the centre and quite a foot thick at the sides, so that it fills up the hollow, and rests the weight upon the ribs at a safe distance from the spine.

There are various contrivances in the shape of saddles. The ordinary form for travelling is the char-jarma; this is an oblong frame, exceedingly strong, which is lashed upon the pad secured by girths. It is stuffed with cotton, and neatly covered with native cloth. A stuffed back passes down the centre like a sofa, and two people on either side sit dos-a-dos, as though in an Irish car. Iron rails protect the ends, and swing foot-boards support the feet. This is, in my opinion, the most comfortable way of riding, but some care is necessary in proportioning the weights to ensure a tolerable equilibrium, otherwise, should the route be up and down steep nullahs, the char-jarma will shift upon one side, and become most disagreeable to those who find themselves on the lower level. Natives prefer a well-stuffed pad, as they are accustomed to sit with their legs doubled up in a manner that would be highly uncomfortable to Europeans. Such pads are frequently covered with scarlet cloth and gold embroidery, while the elephant is dressed in a silk and gold cloth reaching to its knees. The face and head are painted in various colours and devices, exhibiting great taste and skill on the part of the designer. It is curious to observe the dexterity with which an otherwise ignorant mahout will decorate the head of his animal by drawing most elaborate curves and patterns, that would tax the ability of a professional artist among Europeans.

The howdah is the only accepted arrangement for sporting purposes, and much attention is necessary in its construction, as the greatest strength should be combined with lightness. There ought to be no doors, as they weaken the solidity of the whole. The weight of a good roomy howdah should not exceed two hundredweight, or at the outside 230 pounds. It must be remembered that the howdah is not adapted for travelling, as there is a disagreeable swinging motion inseparable from its position upon the elephant's back which is not felt upon either the pad or the char-jarma. The howdah is simply for shooting, as you can fire in any direction, which is impossible from any other contrivance where the rider sits in a constrained position.

A good howdah should be made of exceedingly strong and tough wood for the framework, dovetailed, and screwed together, the joints being specially secured by long corner straps of the best iron. The frame ought to be panelled with galvanised wire of the strongest description, the mesh being one-half inch. The top rail, of a hard wood, should be strengthened all around the howdah by the addition of a male bamboo 1 1/2 inch in diameter, securely lashed with raw hide, so as to bind the structure firmly together, and to afford a good grip for the hand. As the howdah is divided into two compartments, the front being for the shooter, and the back part for his servant, the division should be arranged to give increased strength to the construction by the firmness of the cross pieces, which ought to bind the sides together in forming the middle seat; the back support of which should be a padded shield of thick leather, about 15 inches in diameter, secured by a broad strap of the same material to buckles upon the sides. This will give a yielding support to the back of the occupant when sitting. The seat should lift up, and be fitted as a locker to contain anything required; and a well-stuffed leather cushion is indispensable. The gun-rack should be carefully arranged to contain two guns upon the left, and one upon the right of the sitter. These must be well and softly padded, to prevent friction. The floor should be covered either with thick cork or cork-matting to prevent the feet from slipping.

It must be remembered that a howdah may be subjected to the most severe strain, especially should a tiger spring upon the head of an elephant, and the animal exert its prodigious strength to throw off its assailant. The irons for fastening the girths should therefore be of the toughest quality, and, instead of actual girths, only thick ropes of cotton ought to be used. A girth secured with a buckle is most dangerous, as, should the buckle give way, an accident of the most alarming kind must assuredly occur. The howdah ought to be lashed upon the elephant by six folds of the strong cotton rope described, tightened most carefully before starting. It should be borne in mind that much personal attention is necessary during this operation, as the natives are most careless. Two or three men ought to sit in the howdah during the process of lacing, so as to press it down tightly upon the pad, otherwise it will become loose during the march, and probably lean over to one side, which is uncomfortable to both man and beast. A large hide of the sambur deer, well cured and greased so as to be soft and pliable, should, invariably protect the belly of the elephant, and the flanks under the fore legs, from the friction of the girthing rope. The breastplate and crupper also require attention. These ought to be of the same quality of cotton rope as used for the girths, but that portion of the crupper which passes beneath the tail should pass through an iron tube bent specially to fit, like the letter V elongated, U. This is a great safeguard against galling, and I believe it was first suggested by Mr. G. P. Sanderson.

A fine male elephant, well accoutred with his howdah thoroughly secured, and a good mahout, is a splendid mount, and the rider has the satisfaction of feeling that his animal is well up to his weight. I do not know a more agreeable sensation than the start in the early morning upon a thoroughly dependable elephant, with all the belongings in first-rate order, and a mahout who takes a real interest in his work; a thorough harmony exists between men and beast, the rifles are in their places, and you feel prepared for anything that may happen during the hazardous adventures of the day.

But how much depends upon that mahout! It is impossible for an ordinary bystander to comprehend the secret signs which are mutually understood by the elephant and his guide, the gentle pressure of one toe, or the compression of one knee, or the delicate touch of a heel, or the almost imperceptible swaying of the body to one side; the elephant detects every movement, howsoever slight, and it is thus mysteriously guided by its intelligence; the mighty beast obeys the unseen helm of thought, just as a huge ship yields by apparent instinct to the insignificant appendage which directs her course, the rudder. All good riders know the mystery of a "good hand" upon a horse; this is a thing that is understood, but cannot be described except by a negative. There are persons who can sit a horse gracefully and well, but who have not the instinctive gift of hand. The horse is aware of this almost as soon as the rider has been seated in the saddle. In that case, whether the horse be first-class or not, there will be no comfort for the animal, and no ease for the rider.

If such a person puts his horse at a fence, the animal will not be thoroughly convinced that his rider wishes him to take it. There are more accidents occasioned by a "bad hand" than by any other cause. If this is the case with a horse well bitted, what must be the result should an elephant be guided by a mahout of uncertain temperament? The great trouble when travelling on an elephant is the difficulty in getting the mahout to obey an order immediately, and at the same time to convey that order to the animal without the slightest hesitation. Natives frequently hesitate before they determine the right from left. This is exasperating to the highest degree, and is destructive to the discipline of an elephant. There must be no uncertainty; if there is the slightest vacillation, it will be felt instinctively in the muscles of the rider, and the animal, instead of obeying mechanically the requisite pressure of knee or foot, feels that the mahout does not exactly know what he is about. This will cause the elephant to swing his head, instead of keeping steady and obeying the order without delay. In the same manner, when tiger-shooting, the elephant will at once detect anything like tremor on the part of his mahout. Frequently a good elephant may be disgraced by the nervousness of his guide, nothing being so contagious as fear.

Although I may be an exception in the non-admiration of the elephant's sagacity to the degree in which it is usually accepted, there is no one who more admires or is so foolishly fond of elephants. I have killed some hundreds in my early life, but I have learnt to regret the past, and 1 nothing would now induce me to shoot an elephant unless it were either a notorious malefactor, or in self-defence. There is, however, a peculiar contradiction in the character of elephants that tends to increase the interest in the animal. If they were all the same, there would be a monotony; but this is never the case, either among animals or human beings, although they may belong to one family. The elephant, on the other hand, stands so entirely apart from all other animals, and its performances appear so extraordinary owing to the enormous effect which its great strength produces instantaneously, that its peculiarities interest mankind more than any smaller animal. Yet, when we consider the actual aptitude for learning, or the natural habits of the creature, we are obliged to confess that in proportion to its size the elephant is a mere fool in comparison with the intelligence of many insects. If the elephant could form a home like the bee, and store up fodder for a barren season; if it could build a nest of comfort like a bird, to shelter itself from inclement weather; if it could dam up a river like the beaver, to store water for the annual drought; if it could only, like the ordinary squirrel or field mouse, make a store for a season of scarcity, how marvellous we should think this creature, simply because it is so huge! It actually does nothing remarkable, unless specially instructed; but it is this inertia that renders it so valuable to man. If the elephant were to be continually exerting its natural intelligence, and volunteering all manner of gigantic performances in the hope that they would be appreciated by its rider, it would be unbearable; the value of the animal consists in its capacity to learn, and in its passive demeanour, until directed by the mahout's commands.

Nothing can positively determine the character of any elephant; every animal, I believe, varies more or less in courage according to its state of health, which must influence the nervous system. The most courageous man may, if weakened by sickness, be disgusted with himself by starting at an unexpected sound, although upon ordinary occasions he would not be affected. Animals cannot describe their feelings, and they may sometimes feel "out of sorts" without being actually ill, but the nervous system may be unstrung.

I once saw a ridiculous example of sudden panic in an otherwise most dependable elephant. This was a large male belonging to the Government, which had been lent to me for a few months, and was thoroughly staunch when opposed to a charging tiger; in fact, I believe that Moolah Bux was afraid of nothing, and he was the best shikar elephant I have ever ridden. One day we were driving a rocky hill for a tiger that was supposed to be concealed somewhere among the high grass and broken boulders, and, as the line of beaters was advancing, I backed the elephant into some thick jungle, which commanded an open but narrow glade at the foot of the low hill. Only the face of the elephant was exposed, and as this was grayish brown, something similar to the colour of the leafless bushes, we were hardly noticeable to anything that might break covert.

The elephant thoroughly understood the work in hand; and as the loud yells and shouts of the beaters became nearer, Moolah Bux pricked his ears and kept a vigilant look-out. Suddenly a hare emerged about 100 yards distant; without observing our well-concealed position it raced at full speed directly towards us, and in a few seconds it ran almost between the elephant's legs as it made for the protection of the jungle. The mighty Moolah Bux fairly bolted with a sudden terror as this harmless and tiny creature dashed beneath him, and although he recovered himself after 5 or 6 yards, nevertheless for the moment the monster was scared almost by a mouse.

It is this uncertainty of character that has rendered the elephant useless for military purposes in the field since the introduction of fire-arms. In olden times there can be no doubt that a grand array of elephantine cavalry, with towers containing archers on their backs, would have been an important factor when in line of battle; but elephants are useless against fire-arms, and in our early battles with the great hordes brought against us by the princes of India, their elephants invariably turned tail, and added materially to the defeat of their army.

Only a short time ago, at Munich, a serious accident was occasioned by a display of ten or twelve elephants during some provincial fete, when they took fright at the figure of a dragon vomiting fire, and a general stampede was the consequence, resulting in serious injuries to fifteen or sixteen persons.

I once had an elephant who ought to have killed me upon several occasions through sheer panic, which induced him to run away like a railway locomotive rushing through a forest. This was the tusker Lord Mayo, who, although a good-tempered harmless creature, appeared to be utterly devoid of nerves, and would take fright at anything to which it was unaccustomed. The sound of the beaters when yelling and shouting in driving jungle was quite sufficient to start this animal off in a senseless panic, not always for a short distance, as on one occasion it ran at full speed for upwards of a mile through a dense forest, in spite of the driving-hook of the mahout, which had been applied with a maximum severity.

It is curious to observe how all the education of an elephant appears to vanish when once the animal takes fright and bolts for the nearest jungle. That seems to be the one idea which is an instinct of original nature, to retreat into the concealment of a forest.

I was on one occasion mounted upon Lord Mayo in the Balagh district when the beaters were not dependable. A tiger had killed a bullock at the foot of a wooded hill bordered by an open plain. As the beaters had misbehaved upon several occasions by breaking their line, I determined to take command of the beat in person. I therefore formed the line in the open, with every man equidistant, there being about a hundred and twenty villagers. I had placed my shikari with a rifle in a convenient position about 200 yards in advance, upon a mucharn or platform that had been constructed for myself.

Having after some trouble arranged the beaters in a proper line, I gave the order for an advance. In an instant the shouts arose, and three or four tom-toms added to the din.

I was mounted upon Lord Mayo near the centre of the line in the open glade. No sooner had the noise begun, than a violent panic seized this senseless brute, and without the slightest warning it rushed straight ahead for the thick forest at a pace that would nearly equal that of a luggage train. It was in vain that the mahout dug the iron spike into its head and alternately seized its ears by the unsparing hook, away it ran, regardless of all punishment or persuasion, until it reached the jungle, and with a crash we entered in full career!

Fortunately there was no howdah, only a pad well secured by thick ropes. To clutch these tightly, and to dodge the opposing branches by ducking the head, now swinging to the right, then doubling down upon the left to allow the bending trees to sweep across the pad, then flinging oneself nearly over the flank to escape a bough that threatened instant extermination; all these gymnastics were performed and repeated in a few seconds only, as the panic-stricken brute ploughed its way, regardless of all obstructions, which threatened every instant to sweep us off its back. The active mahout of my other elephant, knowing the character of Lord Mayo, had luckily accompanied us with a spear, and although at the time I was unaware of his presence, he was exerting himself to the utmost in a vain endeavour to overtake our runaway elephant. At first I imagined that the great pace would soon be slackened, and that a couple of hundred yards would exhaust the animal's wind, especially as the ground was slightly rising. Instead of this, it was going like a steam-engine, and if there had been the usual amount of thorny creepers we should have been torn to pieces.

" Keep him straight for the hill," I shouted, as I saw we were approaching an inclination. "Don't let him turn to right or left, keep his head straight for the steep ground;" and the mahout, who had been yelling for assistance, and had lost both his turban and skull-cap, did all that he could by tunnelling into the brute's head with his formidable hook to direct it straight up the hill. I never knew an elephant go at such a pace over rocky ground. Young trees were smashed down, some branches torn, others bent forward, which swung backwards with dangerous force, and yet on we tore without a sign of diminishing speed. How I longed for an anchor to have brought up our runaway ship head to wind! We had the coupling chains upon the pad, and my interpreter, Modar Bux, at length succeeded in releasing these, and in throwing them down for any person following to make use of. After a run of quite half a mile, we fortunately arrived at a really steep portion of the hill, where the rocks were sufficiently large to present a difficulty to any runaway. The mahout who had been following our course, breathless and with bleeding feet, here overtook us. Placing himself in advance of the elephant, who seemed determined to continue its flight among the rocks, he dug the spear deep into the animal's trunk, and kept repeating the apparently cruel thrusts until at length it stopped. Several men now arrived with the coupling chains, which were at length with difficulty adjusted, and the elephant's fore legs were shackled together. It was curious to observe the dexterous manner in which it resisted this operation, and had it not been for the dread of the spear I much doubt whether it could have been accomplished.

This was the first time that I had experienced a runaway elephant, but I soon found that both my steeds were equally untrustworthy. A few weeks after this event we had completed the morning's march and found the camp already prepared for our arrival, at a place called Kassli, which is a central depot for railway sleepers as they are received from the native contractors. These were carefully piled in squares of about twenty each, and covered a considerable area of ground at intervals. A large ox had died that morning, and as it was within 50 yards of the tent it was necessary to remove it; the vultures were already crowded in the surrounding trees waiting for its decomposition. As usual, none of the natives would defile themselves by touching the dead body. I accordingly gave orders that one of the elephants should drag it about a mile down wind away from the camp. Lord Mayo was brought to the spot, and the sweeper, being of a low caste, attached a very thick rope to the hind legs of the ox; the other end being made fast to the elephant's pad in such a manner as to form traces. The elephant did not exhibit the slightest interest in the proceeding, and everything was completed, the body of the ox being about 6 or 7 yards behind.

No sooner did Lord Mayo move forward in obedience to the mahout's command, and feel the tug of the weight attached, than he started off in a panic at a tremendous pace, dragging the body through the lanes between the piles of sleepers, upsetting them, and sending them flying in all directions, as the dead ox caught against the corners; and, helter-skelter, he made for the nearest jungle about 300 yards distant. Fortunately some wood-cutters were there, who yelled and screamed to turn him back; but although this had the effect of driving him from the forest, he now started over the plain down hill, dragging the heavy ox behind as though it had been a rabbit, and going at such a pace that none of the natives could overtake him, although by this time at least twenty men were in full pursuit.

The scene was intensely ridiculous, and the whole village turned out to enjoy the fun of a runaway elephant with a dead ox bounding over the inequalities of the ground; no doubt Lord Mayo imagined that he was being hunted by the carcase which so persistently followed him wherever he went. There was no danger to the driver, as the elephant was kept away from the forest. The ground became exceedingly rough and full of holes from the soakage during the rainy season. This peculiar soil is much disliked by elephants, as the surface is most treacherous, and cavernous hollows caused by subterranean water action render it unsafe for the support of such heavy animals. The resistance of the dead ox, which constantly jammed in the abrupt depressions, began to tell upon the speed, and in a short time the elephant was headed, and surrounded by a mob of villagers. I was determined that he should now be compelled to drag the carcase quietly in order to accustom him to the burden; we therefore attached the coupling chains to his fore legs, and drove him gently, turning him occasionally to enable him to inspect the carcase that had smitten him with panic. In about twenty minutes he became callous, and regarded the dead body with indifference.

Although an elephant is capable of great speed, it cannot jump, neither can it lift all four legs off the ground at the same time; this peculiarity renders it impossible to cross any ditch with hard perpendicular sides that will not crumble or yield to pressure, if such a ditch should be wider than the limit of the animal's extreme pace. If the limit of a pace should be 6 feet, a 7-foot ditch would effectually stop an elephant.

Although the strength of an elephant is prodigious whenever it is fully exerted, it is seldom that the animal can be induced to exhibit the maximum force which it possesses. A rush of a herd of elephants, with a determined will against the enclosure of palisades used for their capture would probably break through the barrier, but they do not appear to know their strength, or to act together. This want of cohesion is a sufficient proof that in a wild state they are not so sagacious as they have been considered. I do not describe the kraal or keddah, which is so well known by frequent descriptions as the most ancient and practical method of capturing wild elephants; but although in Ceylon the kraal has been used from time immemorial, the Singhalese are certainly behind the age as compared with the great keddah establishments of India. In the latter country there is a ditch inside the palisaded enclosure, which prevents the elephants from exerting their force against the structure; in Ceylon this precaution is neglected, and the elephants have frequently effected a breach in the palisade. In Ceylon all the old elephants captured within the kraal or keddah are considered worthless, and only those of scarcely full growth are valued; in India, all elephants irrespective of their age are valued, and the older animals are as easily domesticated as the young.

The keddah establishment at Dacca is the largest in India, and during the last season, under the superintendence of Mr. G. P. Sanderson, 404 elephants were captured in the Garo Hills, 132 being taken in one drive. It is difficult to believe that any district can continue to produce upon this wholesale scale, and it is probable that after a few years elephants will become scarce in the locality. Nevertheless there is a vast tract of forest extending into Burmah, and the migratory habits of the elephant at certain seasons may continue the supply, especially if certain fruits or foliage attract them to the locality.

This migratory instinct is beyond our powers of explanation in the case of either birds, beasts, or fishes. How they communicate, in order to organise the general departure, must remain a mystery. It is well known that in England, previous to the departure of the swallows, they may be seen sitting in great numbers upon the telegraph wires as though discussing the projected journey; in a few days after, there is not a swallow to be seen.

I once, and only once, had an opportunity of seeing elephants that were either migrating, or had just arrived from a migration. This was between 3 degrees and 4 degrees N. latitude in Africa, between Obbo and Farajok. We were marching through an uninhabited country for about 30 miles, and in the midst of beautiful park-like scenery we came upon the magnificent sight of vast herds of elephants. These were scattered about the country in parties varying in numbers from ten to a hundred, while single bulls dotted the landscape with their majestic forms in all directions. In some places there were herds of twenty or thirty entirely composed of large tuskers; in other spots were parties of females with young ones interspersed, of varying growths, and this grand display of elephantine life continued for at least 2 miles in length as we rode parallel with the groups at about a quarter of a mile distant. It would have been impossible to guess the number, as there was no regularity in their arrangement, neither could I form any idea of the breadth of the area that was occupied. I have often looked back upon that extraordinary scene, and it occurred to me forcibly in after years, when I had 3200 elephants' tusks in one station of Central Africa, which must have represented 1600 animals slain for their fatal ivory.

The day must arrive when ivory will be a production of the past, as it is impossible that the enormous demand can be supplied. I have already explained that the African savage never tames a wild animal, neither does he exhibit any sympathy or pity, his desire being, like the gunner of the nineteenth century, to exterminate. It may be readily imagined that wholesale destruction is the result whenever some favourable opportunity delivers a large herd of elephants into the native hands.

There are various methods employed for trapping, or otherwise destroying. Pitfalls are the most common, as they are simple, and generally fatal. Elephants are thirsty creatures, and when in large herds they make considerable roads in their passage towards a river. They are nearly always to be found upon the same track when nightly approaching the usual spot for drinking or for a bath. It is therefore a simple affair to intercept their route by a series of deep pitfalls dug exactly in the line of their advance. These holes vary in shape; the circular are, I believe, the most effective, as the elephant falls head downwards, but I have seen them made of different shapes and proportions according to the individual opinions of the trappers.

It is exceedingly dangerous, when approaching a river, to march in advance of a party without first sending forward a few natives to examine the route in front. The pits are usually about 12 or 14 feet in depth. These are covered over with light wood, and crossed with slight branches or reeds, upon which is laid some long dry grass; this is covered lightly with soil, upon which some elephant's dung is scattered, as though the animal had dropped it during the action of walking. A little broken grass is carelessly distributed upon the surface, and the illusion is complete. The night arrives, and the unsuspecting elephants, having travelled many miles of thirsty wilderness, hurry down the incline towards the welcome river. Crash goes a leading elephant into a well-concealed pitfall! To the right and left the frightened members of the herd rush at the unlooked-for accident, but there are many other pitfalls cunningly arranged to meet this sudden panic, and several more casualties may arise, which add to the captures on the following morning, when the trappers arrive to examine the position of their pits. The elephants are then attacked with spears while in their helpless position, until they at length succumb through loss of blood.