without the slightest provocation. I have seen many natives frightfully
disfigured by the attacks of bears, which they dread more than any other
animal. Nothing would induce my trackers to follow up the wounded beast.
I followed him as far as I could, but my useless limb soon gave way,
and I was obliged to give him up. I once saw a Moorman, who was a fine
powerful fellow and an excellent elephant-tracker, who had a narrow
escape from a bear. He was cutting bamboos with a catty or kind of
bill-hook, when one of these animals descended from a tree just above
him and immediately attacked him. The man instinctively threw his left
arm forward to receive the bear, who seized it in his mouth and bit the
thumb completely off, lacerating the arm and wrist at the same time in
a frightful manner. With one blow of the bill-hook the Moorman cleft the
bear's skull to the teeth, at the same time gashing his own arm to the
bone by the force of the blow; and he never afterwards recovered the
proper use of the limb.

The Ceylon bear feeds upon almost anything that offers; he eats honey,
ants, fruit, roots, and flesh whenever he can procure it: his muscular
power is enormous, and he exerts both teeth and claws in his attack.
They are very numerous in Ceylon, although they are seldom met with in
any number, owing to their nocturnal habits, which attract them to their
caves at break of day.

After strolling over the country for some miles, we came upon fresh
elephant-tracks in high grass, which we immediately followed up. In the
course of half an hour, after tracking them for about two miles through
open country, we entered a fine forest, in which the herd had retired;
but our hopes of meeting them in this favourable ground were suddenly
damped by arriving at a dense chenar jungle in the very heart of the
forest. This chenar extended for some acres, and rose like a hedge,
forming a sudden wall of thorns, which effectually checked our advance.
The elephants had retired to this secure retreat, and having winded
us they kept up an uninterrupted roaring. I never heard such a musical
herd: the deep and thunder-like growls, combined with the shrill trumpet
and loud roars, as they all joined in concert, had a particularly grand
effect, and a novice in elephant-shooting would have felt his heart beat
in double time.

There was a rogue consorting with this herd, and it was necessary to
be particularly cautious in the attack. It was impossible to e