and
children, who had been bitten during the night). Little more than
_three_ fatal accidents occurring annually on the average of five years,
is certainly a very small proportion in a population estimated at a
million and a half, in an island abounding with elephants, with which,
independently of casual encounters, voluntary conflicts are daily
stimulated by the love of sport or the hope of gain. Were the elephants
instinctively vicious or even highly irritable in their temperament, the
destruction of human life under the circumstances must have been
infinitely greater. It must also be taken into account, that some of the
accidents recorded may have occurred in the rutting season, when
elephants are subject to fits of temporary fury, known in India by the
term _must_, in Ceylon _mudda_,--a paroxysm which speedily passes away,
but during the fury of which it is dangerous even for the mahout to
approach those ordinarily the gentlest and most familiar.

But, then, the elephant is said to "entertain an extraordinary dislike
to all quadrupeds; that dogs running near him produce annoyance; that he
is alarmed if a hare start from her form;" and from Pliny to Buffon
every naturalist has recorded its supposed aversion to swine.[1] These
alleged antipathies are in a great degree, if not entirely, imaginary.
The habits of the elephant are essentially harmless, its wants lead to
no rivalry with other animals, and the food to which it is most attached
flourishes in such abundance that it is obtained without an effort. In
the quiet solitudes of Ceylon, elephants may constantly be seen browsing
peacefully in the immediate vicinity of other animals, and in close
contact with them. I have seen groups of deer and wild buffaloes
reclining in the sandy bed of a river in the dry season, and elephants
plucking the branches close beside them. They show no impatience in the
company of the elk, the bear, and the wild hog; and on the other hand, I
have never discovered an instance in which these animals have evinced
any apprehension of elephants. The elephant's natural timidity, however,
is such that it becomes alarmed on the appearance in the jungle of any
animal with which it is not familiar. It is said to be afraid of the
horse; but from my own experience, I should say it is the horse that is
alarmed at the aspect of the elephant. In the same way, from some
unaccountable impulse, the horse has an antipathy to the camel, and
evinces extreme i