this trench deeply indented with numerous vestiges, as if the other elephants had stationed themselves on either side, some of them kneeling, and others on their feet, and had thus by united efforts, and probably after many failures, hoisted their unlucky brother out of the pit. Similar instances of intelligence and affectionate attachment have been frequently related to me by persons of veracity, familiar with the habits of the elephant in his wild state. The following is a specimen. On one occasion, a band of hunters had surprised two elephants, a male and female, in an open spot near the skirts of a thick and thorny jungle. The animals fled towards the thickets; and the male, in spite of many balls which struck him ineffectually, was soon safe from the reach of the pursuers; but the female was so sorely wounded, that she was unable to retreat with the same alacrity; and the hunters, having got between her and the wood, were preparing speedily to finish her career, when, all at once, the male rushed forth with the utmost fury from his hiding-place, and with a shrill and frightful scream, like the loud sound of a trumpet, charged down upon the huntsmen. So terrific was the animal's aspect, that all instinctively sprang to their horses, and fled for life. The elephant, disregarding the others, singled out an unfortunate man (Cobus Klopper, I think was his name), who was the last person that had fired upon its wounded comrade, and who was standing with his horse's bridle over his arm, reloading his huge gun, at the moment the infuriated animal burst from the wood. Cobus also leaped hastily on horseback, but before he could seat himself in his saddle, the elephant was upon him. One blow from his proboscis struck poor Corbus to the earth; and, without troubling himself about the horse, which galloped off in terror, he thrust his gigantic tusks through the man's body, and then, after stamping it flat with his ponderous feet, again seized it with his trunk, and flung it high into the air. Having thus wreaked vengeance upon his foes, he walked gently up to his consort, and affectionately caressed her, supported her wounded side with his shoulder, and regardless of the volley of balls with which the hunters, who had again rallied to the conflict, assailed them, he succeeded in conveying her from their reach into the impenetrable recesses of the forest. One of my own friends, Lieut. John Moodie, of the Scotch Fusileers, now a settler in South Africa, had an almost miraculous escape on an occasion somewhat similar. He had gone out to an elephant hunt with a party of friends, and they had already succeeded in killing one or two of a small herd, and the rest were retreating before them towards their woody fastnesses, when one of the females, having been separated from her young one among the bushes, forgot all regard to her own safety in maternal anxiety, and turned back in wrath upon her pursuers to search for it. Mr. Moodie, who happened to be on foot at the time, was the individual that the animal first caught sight of, and she instantly rushed upon him. To escape from an angry elephant in open ground is often difficult enough for a well-mounted horseman. My friend gave himself up for lost; nor would the activity of despair have availed him-the animal was close at his heels. But just as she was about to seize or strike him to the earth with her upraised proboscis, he fortunately stumbled and fell. The elephant, unable at once to arrest her impetuous career, made an attempt to thrust him through with her tusks as he lay on the ground before her, and actually tore up the earth within an inch or two of his body, and slightly bruised him with one of her huge feet as she passed over him. Before, however, she could turn back to destroy him, Mr. Moodie contrived to scramble into the wood, and her young one at the same instant raising its cry for her in another direction, the dangerous animal went off without searching further for him. The following curious account of an elephant is related in the amusing "Memoirs of John Shipp, late lieutenant in the 87th Regiment:"-In the year 1804, when we were in pursuit of Hoolkah, there was in our encampment a large elephant, used for the purpose of carrying tents for some of the European corps. It was the season in which they be come most unmanageable, and his legs were consequently loaded with huge chains, and he was constantly watched by his keepers. By day he was pretty passive, save when he saw one of his species, when he roared, and became violent; and during these moments of ungovernable frenzy it was dangerous for his keepers to approach him, or to irritate his feelings by any epithets that might prove repugnant to him. On the contrary, every endearing expression was used to soothe and appease him, which, with promises of sweetmeats, sometimes succeeded with the most turbulent to gain them to obedience, when coercive measures would have roused them to the most desperate acts of violence. By night, their extreme cunning told them that their keepers were not so watchful or vigilant. The elephant here alluded to, one dark night, broke from his chains, and ran wild the encampment, driving men, children, camels, : horses, cows, and indeed every thing that could move, before him, and roaring and trumpeting with his trunk, which is with elephants a sure sign of displeasure, and that their usual docility has deserted him. Of course, no reasonable beings disputed the road he chose to take those that did, soon found themselves floored. To record the mischief done by this infuriated animal, in his nocturnal ramble, would fill a much greater space than I can afford for such matter. Suffice it that, in his flight, followed by swordsmen and spearsmen, shouting and screaming, he pulled down tents, upset every thing that impeded his progress, wounded and injured many, and ultimately killed his keeper by a blow from his trunk. He was speared in some twenty places, which only infuriated him the more, and he struck away with his trunk at every thing before him. His roaring was terrific, and he frequently struck the ground in indication of his rage. The instant he had struck his keeper and found he did not rise, he suddenly stopped, seemed concerned, looked at him with the eye of pity, and stood riveted to the spot. He paused for some seconds, then ran towards the place from whence he had broken loose, and went quietly to his piquet, in front of which lay an infant, about two years old, the daughter of the keeper whom he had killed. The elephant seized the child round the waist as gently as its mother would, lifted it from the ground, and caressed and fondled it for some time, every beholder trembling for its safety, and expecting every moment it would share the fate of its unfortunate father: but the sagacious animal having turned the child round three times, quitely laid it down again, and drew some clothing over it that had fallen off. After this it stood over the child with its eyes fixed on it, and if I did not see the penitential tear start from its eye I have never seen it in my life. He then submitted to be rechained by some other keepers, stood motionless and dejected, and seemed sensible he had done a wrong he could not repair. From this moment the animal became passive and quiet, and always seemed most delighted when the little orphan was within its sight. Often have I gone with others of the camp to see him fondling his little adopted; but there was a visible alteration in his health after his keeper's death, and he fell away and died at Cawnpore six months afterwards; people well acquainted with the history of the elephant, and who knew the story, did not scruple to say from fretting for his before favourite keeper." M THE SPARTAN MOTHER. FIRST of the nations, whose exalted name On ages veil'd by Time in sable night; MISS ELEANOR SNOWDON. ELEPHANT FIGHT.-The following description of an elephant fight is extracted from "A Picturesque View along the Ganges"-"An elegant breakfast awaited our arrival; after which we passed on to a spacious verandah, which looked down into the area prepared for the combat. Two very large war elephants were now brought forward from opposite sides, each preceded by his favourite female, whose presence, it appears, is necessary to arouse the anger of these noble animals. The conduct of this pair, however, gave little sport, one of them appearing very shy; they were therefore withdrawn. Another pair advanced, led as the first. These approached with a slow and majestic step, until they caught a glimpse of each other; both then raising their trunks, and uttering a shrill and angry cry, rushed with the most tremendous impetuosity together, presenting their heads to receive the first shock. The animals still continued to strive by every possible exertion to force its adversary back, or to attack him in the flank. Their heads, however, still were firmly pressed together, and they alternately receded and rallied. One was of rather a smaller size than his antagonist, but he appeared to make up for this deficiency by his greater spirit. He retreated a little for a moment, but it was only to renew the charge with increased rage: again they met; the same tremendous concussion took place, and these attacks were several times re peated, until, in a last and most desperate one, a tooth of the smallest elephant was broken in two with a loud crash. Still he was not dispirited, and would have persevered longer in the contest; but, being inferior to his adversary, the fireworks were cast between them, which terminated the combat. The noble animals kept for this sport are unfit, of course, for any other purpose, and are most ungovernable to the mahauts. They are fed, to bring them to this furious state, on high seasoned food and spices, which in a manner intoxicate them, and render them furious beyond description. The mahauts, or conductors, sit upon the elephants' backs during the contest, and too often fall victims to the mad rage of their own animal, or the opposing foe. There is a large pad, like a mattrass, strongly fixed on the animal's back, and covered over with a coarse netting of thick white cotton rope; to this the mahaut clings, and as the elephant approaches to the attack, the rider gradually recedes towards the tail, where he usually is, at the moment of the shock, stimulating the already ferocious animal with his voice, and the sharp goad with which the elephant is always driven and guided.” BOXING WITH A TIGER.-During our visits at the house of the padræ, we met with a Peruvian, a man about six feet high, and unusually stout in proportion, who, amongst other adventures, had had an extraordinary engagement with a tiger, the marks of whose claws and teeth he still retained on his head and arm, although several years had elapsed since the combat. Repetitions of such recitals are not easy, inasmuch as the spirit of them depends greatly on the manner and peculiarities of the actors, which are almost indescribable. The tiger's antagonist and his brother were proprietors of a chacra that was infested by animals coming under the denomination of tiger, and which includes a variety of species, some incomparably more formidable than others. What was the particular description of this animal I do not know; the reader must endeavour to form his judgment from the narration. However, our acquaintance passing one day through the chacra, saw the tiger lying under a bush or tree, and, according to the Peruvian, or perhaps his own peculiar manner, he addressed it. Ho, my friend, you are there, are you? I have been seeking you for some time, and we have a long account to settle. Wait till I get my weapons, and I will be with you again quickly." Accordingly, going to the house of the chacra, he got his pucana and arrows, and returned: these men always wear a long knife in a leather sheath, suspended to a |