f old soldiers.

Their duty is to drag the heavy batteries and the guns of the siege-train,
which are extremely large and exceedingly heavy.

The elephants draw them as if they weighed nothing, and march along,
keeping steady pace with the soldiers.

These big beasts trample down and demolish any barriers that are in their
way, and pull their loads through heavy mire without the slightest effort.

Before the plan of using elephants was adopted, the guns were drawn by
bullocks; but one elephant can easily draw a load which it would take
thirty bullocks to move. The elephants are very tractable and clever,
while the oxen are stupid, ill tempered, and hard to manage.

The elephants, despite their great strength, will not allow themselves to
be overloaded.

If they are worked too hard, or made to draw heavier weights than is
pleasant to them, they become sulky and will not obey orders. Their
drivers, therefore, have to treat them very kindly; and then they will do
all that is asked of them.

As soon as they have learned the work that is required of them, they will
do it at the word of command.

The British soldiers do not attempt to manage these big beasts themselves.
Natives are employed for this task, each elephant having his own special
attendant.

These Mahouts, as they are called, feed and care for the elephants, who
become very much attached to them, and pine terribly if their keepers are
changed.

* * * * *

It is reported that Mr. Henry Havemeyer is trying to build an American
Venice in the Great South Bay.

Two years ago he purchased a large tract of marshy land, which he has
drained, filled in, and which is now ready to be built on.

He will construct some handsome villas, facing a grand canal, and
separated from one another and also from the mainland by various other
water-ways.

Mr. Havemeyer's charming idea is not entirely original, however. His
Venice already has a very lovely rival in the West.

A charming little village has been built on sandbanks formed by the delta
of the St. Clair River, which delta reaches put into Lake St. Clair, about
thirty miles from Detroit, Mich.

The houses of this village are all built upon piles, some rising clear out
of the lake, some having small yards around them.

A few trees and such flowers as will grow are carefully cultivated by the
inhabitants, and add to the charm of the place.

The only means of communication is by