He now finds himself separated from his neighbors, and goaded on all sides by huntsmen, who are placed along this passage, till he reaches the smaller area, where two tame female elephants are stationed, who immediately commence disciplining him with their trunks, till he is reduced to obedience, and suffers himself to be conducted to a tree, to which he is bound by the leg, with stout thongs of untanned elk or buckskin. The tame elephants are again conducted to the enclosure, where the same operation is performed on the others, till all are subdued. They are kept bound to trees for several days, and a certain number of attendants left with each animal to supply him with food, by little and little, till he is brought by degrees to be sensible of kindness and caresses, and thus allows himself to be conducted to the stable.

So docile and susceptible of domestication is the elephant, that, in a general way, fourteen days are sufficient to reduce the animals to perfect obedience. During this time, they are fed daily with cocoa-nut leaves, of which they are excessively fond, and are conducted to the water by the tame females. In a short time, they become accustomed to the voice of their keeper, and at last quietly resign their freedom, and great energies, to the dominion of man.

The mode employed by the Africans, to take elephants alive, is by pits. Pliny, whose accounts were in general correct, mentions that, when one of the herd happened to fall into this snare, his companions would throw branches of trees and masses of earth into the pit, with the intention of raising the bottom, so that the animal might effect his escape. Although this appears to be a species of reasoning hardly to be expected from an animal, yet it has in a great measure been confirmed by Mr. Pringle, who says,—"In the year 1821, during one of my excursions in the interior of the Cape Colony, I happened to spend a few days at the Moravian missionary settlement of Enon, or White River. This place is situated in a wild but beautiful valley, near the foot of the Zuurberg Mountains, in the district of Uiterhage, and is surrounded on every side by extensive forests of evergreens, in which numerous herds of elephants still find food and shelter.

"From having been frequently hunted by the Boors and Hottentots, these animals are become so shy as scarcely ever to be seen during the day, except amongst the most remote and inaccessible ravines and jungles; but in the night time they frequently issue forth in large troops, and range, in search of food, through the inhabited farms in the White River valley; and on such occasions they sometimes revenge the wrongs of their race upon the settlers who have taken possession of their ancient haunts, by pulling up fruit-trees, treading down gardens and cornfields, breaking their ploughs, wagons, and so forth. I do not mean, however, to affirm, that the elephants really do all this mischief from feelings of revenge, or with the direct intention of annoying their human persecutors. They pull up the trees, probably, because they want to browse on their soft roots; and they demolish the agricultural implements merely because they happen to be in their way.

"But what I am now about to state assuredly indicates no ordinary intelligence. A few days before my arrival at Enon, a troop of elephants came down, one dark and rainy night, close to the outskirts of the village. The missionaries heard them bellowing, and making an extraordinary noise, for a long time, at the upper end of the orchard; but, knowing well how dangerous it is to encounter these powerful animals in the night, they kept close within their houses till daylight. Next morning, on their examining the spot where they had heard the elephants, they discovered the cause of all this nocturnal uproar. There was at this spot a ditch or trench, about four or five feet in width, and nearly fourteen feet in depth, which the industrious missionaries had recently cut through the banks of the river, on purpose to lead out water to irrigate some part of their garden, and to drive a corn-mill. Into this trench, which was still unfinished, and without water, one of the elephants had evidently fallen, for the marks of his feet were distinctly visible at the bottom, as well as the impress of his huge body on the sides.

"How he had got into it, was not easy to conjecture; but how, being once in, he ever contrived to get out again, was the marvel. By his own unaided efforts it was obviously impossible for such an animal to have extricated himself. Could his comrades, then, have assisted him? There can be no question that they had, though by what means, unless by hauling him out with their trunks, it would not be easy to conjecture; and, in corroboration of this supposition, on examining the spot myself, I found the edges of 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."

We are told that the Emperor Domitian had a troop of elephants disciplined to dance to the sound of music; and that one of them, which had been beaten for not having his lesson perfect, was observed, on the following night, to be practising by himself in a meadow.

The elephant recently exhibited in New York was fed by a young girl with cakes and apples. While in the act of pulling an apple from her bag, she drew out her ivory card-case, which fell, unobserved, in the sawdust of the ring. At the close of the performances, the crowd opened to let the elephant pass out; but, instead of proceeding as usual, he turned aside, and thrust his trunk in the midst of a group of ladies and gentlemen, who, as might be supposed, were very much alarmed. The keeper at this moment discovered that the animal had something in his trunk: upon examination, it was found to be the young lady's card-case, which the elephant had picked up, and was now seeking out the fair owner.

A female elephant, belonging to a gentleman at Calcutta, being ordered from the upper country to Chittagong, broke loose from her keeper, and was lost in the woods. The excuses which the man made were not admitted. It was supposed that he had sold the elephant. His wife and family were, therefore, sold as slaves, and he was himself condemned to work upon the roads. About twelve years after, this man was ordered into the country to assist in catching wild elephants. In a group that he saw before him, the keeper thought that he recognized his long-lost elephant. He was determined to go up to it; nor could the strongest representations of the danger dissuade him from his purpose.

When he approached the creature, she knew him and, giving him three salutes by waving her trunk in the air, knelt down and received him on her back. She afterwards assisted in securing the other elephants, and likewise brought with her three young ones, which she had produced during her absence. The keeper recovered his character; and, as a recompense for his sufferings and intrepidity, an annuity was settled on him for life. This elephant was afterwards in the possession of Warren Hastings.