ages by the former monarchs of the island. But
here even they are not secure. Sportsmen more
keen, and less occupied than Europeans generally
are, seek them in their remotest haunts. Until
recently, government paid a reward for every
elephant's tail produced at the offices of the
various government agents, and the Moor men
and Singhalese catch many annually for export.
A great many of the able-bodied villagers, moreover,
have now guns and ammunition, so it is
not to be wondered at that the elephant is not
so common as in the days I allude to.

Floating hazily among the annals of Ceylon
are many tales of moving accidents and hair-
breadth escapes of these sportsmen of a bygone
day. It is not easy now either to connect these
stories with any particular individual, or to be
sure that the legends are correct in all their
details, still they always seem to interest the new
arrival, and may, possibly, serve the same
purpose with others far distant. I was reminded
lately of one of these stories. A gentleman fired
at an elephant but did not succeed in killing
him, and the infuriated beast charged him, and
compelled him to seek safety in flight. A tree
was in view, and for this he made with all speed,
closely pursued. Already had he reached a
branch some height from the ground, when, to
his horror, he felt the trunk of the elephant
seizing him round the leg; he gave himself up
for lost, but instinctively drew his leg away, and,
to his surprise, he found that the effort was
successful— the leg was saved, but the boot was left
behind! The elephant's trunk had done the part
of a boot-jack, and the man escaped scathless.

The sense of smell is very powerful in the
elephant, and compensates, to a great extent,
for the limited range of its vision. A friend of
mine told me, that in the earlier days of his
residence in the island, when he and his brother
were exceedingly keen in the pursuit of sport,
they came across an elephant in the mountain
forests while armed only with their fowling-
pieces. If I mistake not, one barrel of each
gun was loaded with ball, and one with shot, a
practice by no means uncommon, when it is
uncertain whether the game will be a jungle-fowl
or an elephant. At any rate, they attacked the
elephant, and were reduced to the necessity of
discharging the shot barrels also at him, whereby
they succeeded in blinding him. They were
then compelled to take to their heels, and, being
both light, active young men, they contrived to
dodge him, and to get out of the forest into the
open patenas. There they halted, and were
standing by each other, when they saw the
elephant emerge from the forest with his trunk to
the ground, and regularly track the course they
had taken by smelling their footsteps as a hound
would do. Deprived of the power of sight, he
brought that of scent to his aid, in order to
obtain his revenge. I fancy they did not wait
long to see what would be the result. One of
these gentlemen has had several narrow escapes
in the forests, both from elephants and other
animals; one most terrible tussle with a bear
will be told of under the proper head.

It is, however, not very long since that he
and a friend at Batticaloa tracked a couple of
elephants into a very nasty thorny jungle. The
elephants are perfectly aware of their advantage
over the foe in such places, where escape for the
biped is very difficult, and are, therefore, all the
more likely to charge him under such
circumstances. Each of them selected an elephant
and fired. The one that my friend M— fired
at ran off; the one at which his companion fired
charged. On their turning to recover the spare
guns from the natives, the sportsmen found that
they had bolted, and there was nothing for it
but to run.

But in the thorny jungle this was not easy, and
looking round, my friend perceived that the elephant
had seized his companion, and was mauling
him in a most terrible manner. Unarmed
as he was, it was not easy to know what to do;
he, however, adopted the only course open to
him: he turned back, made a noise to attract
the elephant's notice, and provoked him to quit
his first victim, and to endeavour in him to find
a fresh one. He then dodged the elephant the
best way he could, made a circuit to where his
companion lay, and succeeded in getting him
into the open ground, but so vindictive was
their foe, that they several times were in danger
of a fresh attack, and could hear him crashing
about in the jungle.

The injuries received by the wounded gentleman
were very severe; his shoulder-bone was
broken, and he had many other painful
contusions and wounds. The wonder is that he
escaped alive. It was long before they could
find their scattered attendants; the recovery of
the guns they had dropped in the jungle was a
work of difficulty and danger, and altogether this
affair was an exceedingly awkward and
unpleasant one. On their way back to Batticaloa,
while crossing the lake in a boat, one of their
guns was accidentally discharged by the carelessness
of an attendant, and the contents were
lodged in a man's leg. This story was told me
in his quiet way by my friend during a little
excursion into the jungle, and although I cannot
be sure of every minute particular, I believe I
have correctly related the main points.

An adventure of a more ludicrous character
not long since befel two other friends of mine.
One of them was a gentleman who had come to
Ceylon to visit some property of his, and to
have a little shooting. He contemplated
remaining only a few months, and I remember his
saying, as we drove to his estate the first day of
his arrival in the district, that before leaving it
he must kill an elephant, a bear, a cheetah, a
buffalo, a wild pig, and an alligator. We gave
him the opportunity of killing several of the
last the very next morning; with the others
he was less successful. One day he and another
gentleman, not a sportsman, were out after deer,
when they unexpectedly found themselves among
a herd of elephants. The Coolies bolted with
the guns, the non-combative gentleman ran up
to his neck into a lake, and the visitor from
England had the mortification of seeing the herd