An Elephant Attacks Mr. Garden. 93 



Even when using a good type of rifle and bullet an 

 accident may happen, and Mr. George Garden, of Mlanje, 

 in Nyasaland, was badly damaged by an elephant a few 

 years ago in the Barue country, in Portuguese territory, 

 south of the Zambesi. An elephant charged him, and, as 

 he did not wish to kill it, the tusks being poor, he fired at 

 its mouth with a '450 No. 2 nitro rifle. The shock neither 

 stopped nor turned it, and he was knocked down and his 

 rifle sent flying. The elephant pommelled him badly with 

 the base of its trunk and forehead, but, fortunately, did not 

 trample on him or seize him with its trunk. It then left 

 him, and was found dead some time afterwards. My friend 

 had a bad time, as he was far from civilisation when the 

 accident occurred, although he eventually recovered, and 

 has killed several good elephants since with the same rifle. 

 It is only necessary to read old sporting books to see that 

 the heaviest rifles that can be procured will not necessarily 

 stop an animal like an elephant. 



In Central Africa all hunting is done on foot, as horses 

 cannot be taken into tsetse-fly country, and, moreover, the 

 country is not suitable for these animals, as they soon die 

 of sickness. 



It also costs a great deal to import them and get them 

 transported from the deadly climate of the coast to the 

 higher and more healthy country of the interior, so, except 

 for a few animals found here and there, such as in Zomba, 

 Blantyre, or Fort Jameson, none of these quadrupeds are 

 used. There are a good many donkeys in the country. 

 These animals being much tougher than horses in resisting 

 bad climates and disease, they are more commonly used. 



A very serious accident happened to a Mr. de Fries, on 

 whom a wounded buffalo inflicted most severe injuries. 

 He was ill for a long time, and he must have had a good 

 constitution to recover from the bad wounds he received 

 on that occasion. 



A short time ago I read of the death of Mr. Hubert 

 Latham, who won a great name as a daring aviator. He 

 seems to have been one of those plucky men who live for 



