tion. Six years since we remember seeing a fine young specimen in
the enjoyment of an ample enclosure of greensward, and a spacious bath
has since been added to the accommodations. This example has been
rightly followed in our Zoologicai Gardens.

The Elephant Stable is at the extremity of the northern garden in the
Regent's Park. It is of capacious dimensions, but is built in a style of
unappropriate rusticity. Adjoining the stable is a small enclosure,
which the Elephant may measure in two or three turns. Opposite is an
enclosure of much greater extent, so as to be almost worthy of the name
of a little park or paddock. The fence is of iron, and light but
substantial. Within the area are a few lime-trees, the lower branches of
which are thinned by the Elephant repeatedly twisting off their foliage
with his trunk, as adroitly as a gardener would gather fruit. His main
luxury is, however, in his bath, which is a large pool or tank of water,
of depth nearly equal to his height. In hot weather he enjoys his
ablutions here with great gusto, exhibiting the liveliest tokens of
satisfaction and delight. Our artist has endeavoured to represent the
noble creature in his bath, though the pencil can afford but an
imperfect idea of the extasy of the animal on this occasion. His
evolutions are extraordinary for a creature of such stupendous size. His
keeper had at first some difficulty in inducing him to enter the pond,
but he now willingly takes to the water, and thereby exhibits himself in
a point of view in which we have not hitherto been accustomed to view an
Elephant in this country. The fondness of Elephants for bathing is very
remarkable. When in the water they often produce a singular noise with
their trunks. Bishop Heber describes this habit as he witnessed it near
Dacca:--"A sound struck my ear, as if from the water itself on which we
were riding, the most solemn and singular I can conceive. It was long,
loud, deep, and tremulous, somewhat between the bellowing of a bull and
the blowing of a whale, or perhaps most like those roaring buoys which
are placed at the mouths of some English harbours, in which the winds
make a noise to warn ships off them. 'Oh,' said Abdallah, 'there are
Elephants bathing: Dacca much place for Elephant.' I looked immediately,
and saw about twenty of these fine animals, with their heads and trunks
just appearing above the water. Their bellowing it was which I had
heard, and which the water conveyed