THE ELEPHANT. 3 



The elephant is but a chicken-hearted beast. In spite of 

 his size and strength he is easily scared, and a hare starting 

 up at his feet has been frequently known to have excited 

 in him an uncontrollable panic. Now and then one can 

 be trained to await quietly the charge of an angry tiger ; 

 but this is rather because of the confidence that the 

 animal feels in the shooting of the men he carries than in 

 his own powers, and after having been once mauled he can 

 seldom be induced to repeat the experiment. Naturally, the 

 elephant is timid in the extreme; the slightest noise startles 

 him, and, except in the case of a solitary bull rendered 

 morose by being driven from the herd by younger rivals, he 

 will seldom unless wounded face man. He is, like most 

 animals, capable of being taught something ; but when it is 

 considered that he lives a hundred years, while the dog 

 lives but ten or twelve, he would be stupid indeed if he 

 did not in all that time come to some understanding as 

 to what was required of him ; but even at his best, a 

 well-trained dog is a vastly more intelligent animal. This, 

 indeed, might only be expected, for the elephant's brain 

 is smaller in proportion to its bulk than is that of almost 

 any other creature, being little larger than that of man ; and 

 while the brain in man is of about one-twenty-fifth of the 

 size of the body, that of the elephant is but one-five-hundredth 

 part. We should, therefore, pity rather than blame the 

 creature for the smallness of his capacity. It may be said 

 that Baron Cuvier, who made the habits of the elephant a 

 subject of attentive study, came to the conclusion that at 

 the best he was no more intelligent than a dog. 



The elephant should have been admired by Dr. Johnson 

 on the ground that he is a goodthater. Although his brain 



