The scientific gentleman with gold spectacles threw a temporary damper on the merriment by asking, in a sombre voice, whether we knew how many times round the elephant's foot was equal to his height, and then equally solemnly informing us that it was "Twice." Having said "twice!" very emphatically, he became silent, and the fun went on.

Now comes the question—How was the elephant made? A glance at the annexed picture will throw considerable light on the subject at once.

Here we have the usual human substratum. Two gentlemen, wearing rubbers, place themselves in the position represented, while the foremost one holds something in his hands. This is a grey shawl or table-cover, rolled up to represent the elephant's trunk, which the performer swings about to produce a life-like effect. All that now remains to be done is to procure another grey shawl and spread it over the united operators, fastening two pieces of round paper, with black dots on them, in the proper places, for eyes, and a couple of rags or old gloves for ears. The elephant is now complete, save the tusks. These can be made out of long pieces of twisted white paper, pinned to the inside of the shawl, and there you have a first-rate elephant for a small tea-party. Dish, and serve up with lots of sass, as the cookery books say. But let us listen to Nix; he is spouting some more nonsense:

"Ladies and gentlemen: This elephant was captured and imported into this country by a Bengal officer, Colonel Gurramuchy, whom I shall have much pleasure in introducing to you. You have all heard of Cumming—well, he is coming."

Here entered the most extraordinary being we had ever beheld; a very military-looking person, with a very small head and an exceedingly long neck. However, refer to the illustration, where you see him faithfully portrayed. Following him was an equally singular person, who was presented to us as Captain Dawk, a particular friend of the Colonel's, whose portrait we likewise subjoin. These gentlemen chatted with Nix, and told us one or two of their hunting adventures—the most extravagant yarns. We have only space for one, which we shall condense as much as possible. Captain Dawk once, while hunting the wild boar in India, had the misfortune to have his horse ripped open by the tusks of the infuriated beast. His horse of course fell heavily, and died almost immediately. While he was standing at the side of the poor creature, deploring his loss, and wondering how he should ever reach home, he beheld at some distance from him, on the open plain, a huge tiger approaching. There was no tree within miles; to run away would have been useless; he at once bethought himself of an idea. Seizing his hunting-knife, he rapidly removed the internals of the horse, and crept into the cavity himself. The tiger, on coming up, seized the horse by the neck, and dragged it several miles to its den in the jungle, where it commenced at once to feast upon the carcass. Watching a favorable opportunity, when the tiger had eaten a hole in the horse's side, Captain Dawk drew a small revolver from his pocket, and shot the animal dead. He was just in the act of crawling from his place of concealment when he beheld five more tigers approaching. Four of these he shot one after the other from inside the horse, and then all his ammunition was exhausted, and one tiger was left alive; but, drawing his knife, he resolved to sell his life dearly. Here the Captain gave us a most harrowing account of his encounter with the last tiger, which was larger than any of the others. First it broke both his legs, then his arms, then his back, and finally the ferocious beast got the officer's head into its mouth—but to conclude in his own words: "I felt the hot breath in my face, the sharp teeth pressing both sides of my skull. In another instant I felt all would be over, and my worst fears were realized. With one gripe the wretched brute bit off my head, and then tearing me limb from limb, devoured me on the spot." This story was pronounced a stunner.

But how were these extraordinary faces produced? First, we will refer our readers to the diagram, which will explain a good deal, and then throw what light we can on the subject with words.

The face of the Colonel was made by painting an entire set of features on the forehead with India-ink. The white of the eyes in both cases was effected by wetting the finger and rubbing it on an enamelled visiting-card; by this means you take a good deal of the white from the card which can be transferred to the proper place on the forehead. In the case of the Colonel, if the performer moves his eyebrows up and down as he is speaking, it will communicate a motion to the pointed moustaches, and a most comical expression to the entire face.