“There are only two distinct species now living,” said George, “and they are known as the Indian and the African elephants. Some differences have been found between the Sumatran elephant and the Indian one but the naturalists are not agreed as to whether the Sumatran should be classed as a distinct species.”

“Evidently you have been reading up the subject of elephants,” said Mr. Graham with a smile, “as I did not expect to find you so well informed. But I have brought you something which probably you have not seen, and it may combine instruction with amusement as it has much to do with elephants.”

Thereupon Mr. Graham took from the table a book which he explained was written by Louis Jacolliott, a French gentleman who lived many years in India and devoted much time and observation to the elephant. “I have marked several passages in the volume,” said lie, “and you may read them aloud in English, partly for practice in translating from French but mainly for the edification of Mr. Webb and Henry as well as of yourselves.”

Charley was first called upon to translate from the marked passages, which he did as follows:

“The most curious and interesting animal which I have met,” says M. Jacolliott, “is the elephant. Not the elephant of the menageries, broken in spirit and submissive, but the elephant as he is found in his native country. Some instances of his aptitude and intelligence are marvellous.

“A few leagues from Pondichery stands a pagoda called Willenoor, which, at the grand feasts of May, receives a multitude of five or six hundred thousand pilgrims, coming from all parts of India. A number of sacred elephants are attached to this pagoda, and among them is a mendicant, or begging elephant. Twice each week this elephant, accompanied by his driver, goes to the villages and to Pondichery to beg alms for the priests of Willenoor.

“Many times, working beneath the veranda, closed in by curtains on the first story of my house, I have seen him lift the movable curtain with his great trunk and balance himself to ask me for a piece of small coin, which he sucked from my hand to his trunk, a distance of more than three inches. I never failed to give him a small piece of money for the pagoda, and for himself a loaf of bread which my servant dipped in molasses, of which the elephant was very fond. In a short time we became very friendly. He had seen me only in undress, that is, in the light silk garments of the country, and then, only across the little pillars of the balcony of my cottage.

“One day I had occasion to go to Willenoor on business. I arrived at noon; the sun was burning the earth; no one was seen in the streets or on the verandas; every one was resting.

“My carriage had stopped under a mango-tree in the principal square, and I was about to start for the house of the thasildar, or governor of the village, when all at once a monstrous black elephant came running out of the pagoda which was opposite. He arrived in front of us and, before I had time to collect my senses, he lifted me up, placed me on his neck and started at full speed for the pagoda; he carried me across the first enclosure, in which was the great well for bathing, and brought me direct to the elephant quarters.

“Once there, he placed me on the ground in the center of all his companions; it was the begging elephant; he had recognized me. He uttered short cries, lifting his trunk and waving his ears, which his friends doubtless interpreted to my advantage, for when the thasildar, followed by the priests of the temple, came out to seek the cause of this strange demonstration, they found me calm, and recovered from my surprise, in the midst of these enormous beasts who were tendering an ovation in my behalf.

“'This is most remarkable,' said one of the priests, 'I have never seen them act so friendly toward any one.'

“I related to him the circumstances of my gifts to the begging elephant.

“'I am no longer surprised,' he answered, 'he has already recounted it to the whole band and the gourmands are paying you these attentions in hope of attaining the same reward.'

“'Is it possible?' I said with amazement.

“'I am perfectly sure of it. Do you wish to see the proof? Pass your arm around the trunk of your elephant friend and make him understand by signs that you wish him to go out with you; they will all follow you. Allow yourself to be led and you will see where they will bring you.'

“The priest with whom I had already spoken, and who was a professor of philosophy at the temple of Willenoor, told me that from time to time the begging elephant managed to escape from them, and wandered as far as PondichÉry to beg on his own account. Knowing perfectly the market where he obtained the provisions on his expeditions, he would go there, place the money he had collected upon the table of a fruit merchant, and eat as many pineapples, bananas, mangoes and as much sugar-cane and arrack as the Hindoo would allow him for the money.

“'I followed his instructions; the begging elephant and I took up the lead, the nine others joined in the pace, uttering cries of contentment among themselves. We passed through the gate of the pagoda and they led me directly to the shop of a native baker. I would have been utterly astounded had I not already known the wonderful intelligence of these animals. At the shop my duty was readily understood and I presented to each one a loaf of bread, covered with the precious molasses syrup, which is their greatest delicacy.

“The following instance occurred before my own eyes:

“Every one knows that the elephant can be trained to do all kinds of work. While I have no hesitation about relating instances bearing on this statement, I prefer to tell of occurrences which indicate an actual reasoning power in the animal.

“It is customary in the settlements to water the cattle from large wooden buckets filled with water pumped from a well. This is done that they may not drink the water of the reservoirs, which is stagnant and unwholesome. Ordinarily the pumping is done at early morning by one of the elephants, the work taking nearly an hour. Accustomed to the task, he does not wait to be ordered, and every morning, an hour before sunrise he is at his labor with the precision of a living alarm-clock.

“I was staying once at Trichinopoly, at the house of a friend of mine, a merchant, who owned a grand villa a few leagues outside the city. The sun was rising and my servant had just awakened me for my bath. Passing through the yard I saw a large white elephant working at the pump. He closed his eyes sadly and was apparently trying to turn his thoughts from his wearisome labor. He saluted my presence with a joyful flapping of his ears, for during the two days since my arrival I had given him many dainties, but he did not cease from his work, which had to be finished.

“I was stroking him with my hand in passing, when I noticed that one of the two planks which supported the bucket on either side had fallen away. It thus happened that the bucket, being upheld on one side only, spilled its contents without a possibility of being filled.

“The elephant did not think that his work was ended because one side of the bucket was filled: nor did he attempt the impossible feat of trying to fill the other side until both sides were even. In a few minutes the water commenced to run from the lower side of the bucket, and the animal began to show signs of uneasiness; nevertheless he continued to pump. Soon, however, he dropped the handle and drew nearer to observe the cause of the trouble. He returned to the pump three times, each time coming back to examine the bucket. I awaited the end of this strange scene with unflagging interest. All at once a waving of the ears seemed to indicate that an idea had occurred to him.

“He came over to lift up the plank that had fallen away, and for a moment I thought that he intended to put it back in its place under the lower side of the bucket. But he was not troubled about the lower side, which was already tilled with water; it was the other side which annoyed him. Lifting the bucket carefully, he supported it for a moment with one of his great feet, while with his trunk he pulled out the second plank, and placed the bucket on solid earth, thus making it even on all sides. This done, the labor of filling it was easy.

“The elephant is much attached to the women and children in the villages, and it would be dangerous for a stranger to make even an unfriendly gesture in the presence of this animal.

“It is a remarkable sight to see him guard his master's children in their promenades; he watches everything; beasts, serpents, turf-pits and swamps, in fact, any danger which may be imagined, is overcome by his presence. His pace is regulated by that of the children, and he attends them, gathering flowers, fruit from the trees, and sugar-canes; at a motion from one of them he will break a tree-branch if one desires to make a whip or cane. At the slightest noise which he does not understand, if he sees a jackall or a hyena in the distant thicket, he instantly gathers his brood under his trunk, commences to roar with rage, and anything, lion, tiger or man which threatens harm to his charges, is in danger of being dashed to the ground.

“In the lowlands of the Ganges, a swampy country covered with jungles and rice-fields, the royal Bengal tiger is found of great size and ferocity. The combats between this terrible beast and the elephant, guarding the cattle, servants or children of his master, are of almost daily occurrence. The royal Bengal tiger is so fierce that he never refuses to fight his adversary, although the end of the combat generally finds him crushed to death under the feet of his terrible enemy. In spite of the fact that the elephant is an unpitying foe in his battles with the tiger, bear or rhinoceros, he never molests the smaller, inoffensive animals. No matter what power a keeper may have over him, it is impossible to make him crush an insect.

“There is a little insect which children in Prance call 'les betes a bon Dieu'; the same insect is found in India, but growing to a size twice as large as in France. I have often seen one of these little creatures placed on a level surface, in the troughs of a yard, for instance; I have seen the elephant ordered to crush the insect, but never, for master or driver, would he lift his foot above it in passing by, evidently avoiding any opportunity to do harm. If, on the contrary, he is commanded to bring it to you, he will pick it up delicately with his trunk, and place it in your hands without bruising its wings.

“Nirjara, Madame Duphot's favorite elephant, was an admirable animal. He was a white elephant, which is the most intelligent of all the elephant race. About twenty-five years old, he possessed all the power of youth and infancy, for, in the elephant, the full strength is not reached until they have passed fifty years. Nirjara was not born in the settlements. He was captured in a wild state by the elephants employed for the purpose, and was presented as a gift to his mistress. As soon as he had accustomed himself to his new surroundings, without a hope of returning to the free life of the mountains, he had been made the guardian of Madame Duphot's two young children, and the companion of all their sports and journeys. Even in the ordinary walks and rides she made use of the 'howdah' carried by Nirjara, in preference to her own carriage.

“This fine animal, having no other task, was entirely free to go and come as he desired, but he seldom strayed beyond the sound of Madame's whistle. He was devoted to her, and always hastened to answer the slightest call. I have often seen him standing a few paces from the veranda, following with his eye the movements of his mistress for hours at a time. I believe he would have slain the entire household at a word from her. Every day as a part of his food of fresh grass, she used to prepare for him an eight-pound loaf of bread, made of rice and maize-flour dipped in the juice of sugar-cane. This she gave to him with her own hands. His drink was composed of water in which sugarcane had been crushed, and in warm weather she frequently added to this a measure of wine flavored with plenty of cinnamon and cloves. Her feeling of security in the journeys made under his protection is easily understood.”

Here Charley paused at a signal from Mr. Graham and the book was handed to George. The latter remarked that he had never before heard of an elephant being regularly employed as a nursemaid, though he had read of the great fondness which he has for children.

“Many anecdotes are told of this peculiarity of the elephant,” said Mr. Graham, “and he seems to remember kindness quite as much as the dog or any other quadruped. He can also remember injuries or insults, even though years may have passed since they occurred.”

“I have read,” said Charley, “of a tailor at Acheen who was in front of his shop one day when an elephant put his trunk in and begged for something. Instead of giving him anything the man pricked the creature's trunk with a needle and the elephant turned and went away. A long time afterward the same elephant was in the neighborhood, and as he approached the shop he filled his trunk with water from a trough, and then watched his chance to eject it upon the man who had offended him.”

“That story is in one of the books on the sagacity of animals,” Mr. Graham answered. Then, turning to George, he said they would now listen to something from M. Jacolliott about the mode of catching wild elephants in India and Ceylon.

Thereupon George read as follows:

“Mounted on well trained elephants, the ordinary dangers of hunting are readily comprehended and foreseen; the intelligence of these splendid animals is sufficient to inspire confidence. Nevertheless, grave accidents may arise. When the elephant becomes enraged in his pursuit of a tiger, it sometimes happens that he listens to no voice whatever, dashing madly onward until the 'howdah,' in which the hunter is enclosed, is broken in pieces against a huge tree, branch, or other obstacle.

“It is extraordinary, in hunting wild elephants, that the trained beasts, once on the field, have no other guide than their own instincts. At the first sight of a human form the hunted animal retreats immediately to the thicket, where pursuit is very likely to end in a catastrophe to the pursuers; or, the wild elephants, sometimes being assembled in force, will turn courageously to give battle to the trained animals, of which battle the result can never be foreseen.

“In these expeditions, the slightest carelessness will sometimes reveal the lurking-place of the hunters; the chase is only undertaken with twice as many trained elephants as there are wild ones to be captured, and then only when it has been ascertained by trustworthy scouts that there are no large troops of elephants within a circle of forty or fifty miles. The utmost care is used in this respect. When there is no other way, the Hindoos who make a profession of elephant-hunting sometimes attack with an inferior force, but the European, who follows the chase for pleasure, does not fail to take all necessary precautions.”

“The following is an account of one of these hunts:

“The last commands had hardly been given to Manjari, the chief elephant, by his master, when he started, at the head of his little troop, to descend the hill on the opposite side to that by which we had ascended; he marched slowly, giving no evidence of his intention to rejoin the party which he was leaving behind. The intelligent animal played his part to perfection; he moved slowly, with his companions, toward the stream which wound through the depth of the ravine, as if he intended to slake his thirst at the water. On his way down he stopped here and there to break a tree branch or to pick up a bunch of grass, which he lazily deposited in his mouth.

“The wild elephants, resting in the valley, gazed on Manjari and his troop with curiosity but without, alarm; every movement proved that they had no suspicion of the intentions of the new-comers.

“Suddenly we witnessed a remarkable sight. A young elephant, which was in the wild herd with its mother, seeing Manjari and his companions advancing slowly, bounded toward them to make acquaintance with the strangers.

The young animal was recalled two or three times by its mother, but she, seeing that no attention was paid to her calls, continued her watching from a distance wondering, without doubt, at the welcome extended to her little one. The old elephant Manjari received the little wanderer with cries of joy and marks of tenderness which were too well feigned to arouse suspicion. When, however, the first reception was over, Manjari gave a signal and two elephants placed themselves, one on each side of the young one, and he was a captive.

“They marched to the banks of the stream and drank eagerly; then, without the slightest hesitation, they directed their way toward the two wild elephants who were to be brought back as prisoners. The young elephant seemed overjoyed to see its new friends going toward the place where its mother was lying. She answered its cries, without an idea of the danger which was impending. Her companion was gathering here and there tufts of grass, and devouring the young buds of the trees.

“They were surrounded in a very short time, and when they realized that they had to deal with enemies, it was too late to fly; each one had been caught by its trunk by two of the animals under Manjari and opposition and resistance were alike vain. After a few struggles they seemed to understand their position and they commenced to fill the forest with roars and cries of despair.

“Four more trained elephants were now turned loose and they immediately joined their troop; they were not needed, however, as two of the trained elephants could easily lead a wild one, but their presence served to remove the last faint hope of escape for the captured animals. All this was accomplished easily, without any visible resistance. In a moment their trunks were seized, all power of defence was taken away, and the captives were pressed on each side with such terrible force by their captors, that they seemed to understand instinctively the futility of resistance.

“When the first attempt was made to force them to walk, they made a supreme effort to remain, but a shower of blows from the trunk of Manjari decided their movements in a short space of time. When the poor brutes saw our party, they were terror-stricken and trembled violently; our weak appearance evidently produced a greater effect on their imagination, than did that of their captors.

“In a little time, a hunter crept behind each of them, and having given orders to have them held firmly, bound their hind feet with chains of special strength. From this moment a single elephant easily guarded them; they could only march slowly, and a child could have escaped them. Nothing now remained but to train them, and to make them forget, by kind and gentle treatment, their early life and the great forests in which they were born.

“Ordinarily it is possible to approach a captured elephant at the end of three days; on the eighth day the chains are taken off, and when a month has passed by the animal will go about quietly with the trained ones, imitating their actions, and offering to take part in their work. Indeed, it sometimes happens that, a few hours after the hunt is over, captors and captives are on the best of terms with each other, and the latter are set free by the Hindoo banters on the third or fourth day.

“When the elephant has tasted the delights of civilized life, he never returns to the jungle except to hunt, in his turn, his own fellows, and in this pursuit he displays as much cunning as the older ones did in capturing him.”

“Another mode of hunting elephants,” said Mr. Webb, “is by driving them into a keddah or corral. A strong yard is built with trunks of trees set in the ground like posts about two feet apart so that men can easily go in and out but elephants cannot pass.

From the entrance of the yard two fences enclosing a space shaped like a 'V' are extended several miles and the herd of wild elephants is driven so that it will come into the space enclosed by the 'V' Until they are within the jaws of the fences the driving is done very quietly so as not to alarm the animals and put them to flight, but when they are once inside of it, all silence comes to an end, and the hunters make as much noise as possible with guns, drums and other instruments. This frightens the elephants and they rush pell-mell into the keddah, where they are made prisoners.”

George asked if the elephants were killed when caught or were simply made prisoners.

“No elephants are wantonly killed nowadays in India and Ceylon,” said Mr. Webb, “with the exception of those that are actually dangerous on account of their vices. There are stringent laws against shooting an elephant, the animal being under government protection, and whenever a herd is driven into a keddah the officials select as many as are wanted for use and allow the rest to return to the forest. In the early part of this century the government gave a bounty in Ceylon for the slaughter of elephants and great numbers were killed by hunters. The mistake in the policy was not discovered until the animals became very scarce, when the laws were reversed. Instead of paying now to have elephants killed the government protects them by making it a serious offence to shoot one.”

“But the case is different in Africa,” said the gentleman. “The African elephant is not domesticated at present, or very rarely so, though he seems to have been in ancient times if we may judge by history. The famous Jumbo was an African elephant; you remember that his ears were about three times as large as those of an ordinary elephant, and this is the principal feature which distinguishes one kind from the other. The African is not as docile as the Asiatic elephant; he is hunted for his ivory and for his flesh, which is eagerly devoured by the natives. He is shot, speared, driven into pit-falls, and otherwise taken, and his numbers are said to be diminishing rapidly. By the end of the century, at the rate the destruction is going on, there will not be many African elephants remaining.”

George asked about, the mammoth which formerly lived in Siberia, and whose remains are occasionally found at the present time where they have lain for thousands of years imbedded in the frozen earth. Mr. Graham told him that the mammoth was a member of the elephant family, and his body was covered with thick fur or long hair to protect it from the cold. Of the few specimens that have been found the tusks were longer than those of the elephant and greatly curved; the skele were trimmed into the required shape for telegraph poles; a number of them being piled at intervals along the track.

“Then the elephants were sent to carry the poles to the distances they were to be set apart. I saw one mahout conduct his elephant to-a pile of these heavy poles and tell the intelligent animal to pick one up. He then, with a long wand he had for the purpose, measured off the distance and accompanied the elephant, who carried the pole to the place the mahout indicated. Then I saw the mahout tell the elephant to go to the pile and place them in line along the track, at the ton of one is in the museum at St. Petersburg, and portions of the hair and skin are preserved with it.

Returning to the subject of the intelligence of the elephant, Mr. Grahani read the following from the pen of an American traveler in Burmah, who tells how the elephant was employed in building a telegraph line:

“First a track was made by felling all timber and clearing off any undergrowth, etc., to about twenty feet in width, hundreds of men being employed. Such trees as were suitable in length and otherwise same distance apart as the one he had measured. The man then lay down under a tree and went to sleep. In the meantime the noble animal took up each piece of timber, and carried it to its proper place in the line. I felt so interested that I stayed to witness the whole proceeding. I measured the distance by pacing and found them all to be equal in length and correctly placed like the first one. The beast then went to his mahout and gently touched him with the tip of his trunk and awoke him, as much as to say, 'All is finished, master, according to your orders.' The mahout awoke, mounted the elephant, and went forward to continue the line in the same easy and agreeable manner.”

The same writer says:—

“The young elephants are made pets of and not allowed to work until fully grown. That they are not deficient in understanding, even at an early age, the following anecdote will prove:—The commissioner at Shweygheen had a young elephant, quite a baby, given him by a Burmese gentleman, and the lively intelligent beast afforded much amusement to his owner and all who knew him.

“The youngster could do everything but speak. He was kept in a stable in the garden, specially made for him, the sides being composed of stout planks instead of the usual wattled split bamboo. The heavy teak door was fastened on the outside by a sliding bar of the same wood, running in iron staples. The paths and walks through the garden were made of ground rolled and pressed to the hardness of a macadamized road.

“Shortly after the young elephant's arrival and installation in his stable, the garden was found one morning to have been robbed during' the night, the mangoes especially suffering, a quantity of the best fruit having been taken. No traces were left by the thief or thieves, there were no footprints on the soft ground outside, nothing to indicate how an entrance had been made into the garden. This went on for several nights, and at last it was discovered that the young elephant was the thief. He used to raise the edge of the roof so as to put out his trank and slide the bolt; then there was no obstacle to prevent opening the door, and he opened it and went into the garden. After regaling himself on the fruit he returned to the stable, closed the door, slid the bolt into its place, let the edge of the roof fall to its proper position, and thus made it impossible for any one to know he had been out.”