“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.”
