aces, which only
infuriated him the more, and he struck away with his trunk at everything
before him. His roaring was terrific, and he frequently struck the
ground in indication of his rage. The instant he had struck his keeper,
and found he did not rise, he suddenly stopped, seemed concerned, looked
at him with the eye of pity, and stood riveted to the spot. He paused
for some seconds, then ran towards the place from whence he had broken
loose, and went quietly to his piquet, in front of which lay an infant,
about two years old, the daughter of the keeper whom he had killed. The
elephant seized the child round the waist as gently as its mother would,
lifted it from the ground, and caressed and fondled it for some time,
every beholder trembling for its safety, and expecting every moment it
would share the fate of its unfortunate father; but the sagacious
animal, having turned the child round three times, quietly laid it down
again, and drew some clothing over it that had fallen off. After this
it stood over the child, with its eyes fixed on it; and, if I did not
see the penitential tear steal from its eye, I have never seen it in my
life. He then submitted to be re-chained by some other keepers, stood
motionless and dejected, and seemed sensible that he had done a wrong he
could not repair. His dejection became more and more visible, as he
stood and gazed on the fatherless babe, who, from constant familiarities
with this elephant, seemed unintimidated, and played with its trunk.
From this moment the animal became passive and quiet, and always seemed
most delighted when the little orphan was within its sight. Often have I
gone with others of the camp to see him fondling his little adopted; but
there was a visible alteration in his health after his keeper's death,
and he fell away, and died at Cawnpore, six months afterwards; people
well acquainted with the history of the elephant, and who knew the
story, did not scruple to say, from fretting for his before favourite
keeper.

During the Nepaul war (1815) a female elephant, that had a young one
some seven years old, died, leaving its young to lament its loss. I went
to see it every day; and I pledge my word to the reader that the sorrow
and sighing of this little animal was truly piteous and distressing. For
some time it refused all kind of food. An old male elephant, that always
stood near its mother, after some days seemed to take pity on it,
fondled over and caressed it