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Bankok was caught in the woods. The King and Court went a long way out into the country to meet him, and he was conducted with a grand procession-much pomp-and music and flying banners to the capital. There a grand mansion awaited him, and several of the leading nobility were appointed his custodians. The walls were painted to represent forests, no doubt to remind him of his native haunts, and to console him in his absence from them. All his wants were sedulously provided for-and in his "walks abroad" when "many poor he saw" he was escorted by music and caparisoned by costly vestments. His grandest and farthest promenades were to bathe in the river-when other elephants were in attendance-honoured by being made auxiliaries to his grandeur. Now and then the two sovereigns sought his presence, but I did not learn that his dignity condescended to oblige them with any special notice. But he wanted no addition to that dignity. Every thing associated with majesty and rank bore his image. A white elephant is the badge of distinction. The royal flags and seals-medals and moneys-on all sides the white elephant is the national emblem, as the cross among Christians, or the crescent among Turks-and the Siamese are prouder of it than Americans, Russians, Germans or French are of their eagles or Spaniards of the golden fleece: the Bourbon oriflamme, the British Union Jack-show but faintly in the presence of the white elephant.

It would not be easy to find a savage fit to be a schoolmaster, but I have known an elephant practising the scholastic art, and a very clever schoolmaster was he. He was especially fond of disciplinesomewhat harsh discipline-as if he had studied Solomon's maxim, and was not willing to "spare the rod, and so to spoil the child ;” and his instrument was not the ferula, nor the rod, nor the birch, but one of heavier infliction, namely an iron chain. And the matter was in this wise, when I had occasion to be acquainted with his singular but efficient teaching. They were making a new road in the interior of Ceylon-beyond the cinnamon gardens-and mounting up a steep ascent into the coffee country. There were large stones to be removed, and elephants were employed to raise them; but some of the younger of the troop became restive and unwilling to work. The senior was known by the name of "The Schoolmaster," and he superintended the proceedings. When there was any hesitation or backwardness on the part of the labourers he took a heavy iron chain upon his proboscis and belaboured the lazy ones-so efficiently that working became less uncomfortable than were the blows he laid upon their susceptible snouts. And all this was done without any ostentation-it was merely an appeal-a tolerably

sharp appeal to a sense of their dependence and their duty. Now I have seen the rude administration of justice among uncivilized men, and punishments inflicted, almost without discretion, upon the deserving and the undeserving. Better instructed in penal discipline than half of our country justices, the Schoolmaster Elephant made labour both profitable and reformatory-only just so much of punishment as was needful for reformation, and a proper dose to each individual case. I have an idea that magistrates and lawmakers might, as sluggards are recommended to "go to the ant, to study her ways and be wise," be sent to learn wisdom from a Schoolmaster Elephant.

There is something about an elephant very grand and very venerable too. How majestically he walks! How seldom is his "golden silence" broken! What a contrast is his imperturbable temper, his serene bearing, to the thundering growl of the lion or the terrible leap of the tiger! And then his ancestry, lost in the records of pre-historic time! What are the Bourbons and Nassauswhat is Adam himself-when their genealogies are compared with those of the progenitors of the elephant race? Why the lion, notwithstanding his imposing mane and his regal claims, is but of yesterday, compared with the ancestral aristocracy from whence the elephant is descended! And as to man-proud, vain man-who, on Biblical authority, had his birth only sixty centuries ago—why, his title-deeds and trumpery boastings are after all but as an hour balanced against long-enduring ages! And look at the dignity with which he executes his judgments. The wild beast of the forest rushes on his victim with a blood-shedding purpose, tears him in pieces, and licks the gore of the creature he has destroyed; but mark the elephant! he will seize the doomed one with his trunk, fling him on the ground, and then quietly crush him with his gigantic foot, as effectually as if a steam-hammer had fallen upon him.

Even his passions are regulated by reason; his contempt is sublime. When poor Chuny got mad, from the tooth ache, in Exeter Change, and the warrant for his destruction went forth, in pity for his sufferings, did he not turn his posteriors towards his executioners, who fired and fired away-I know not how many, but there were many discharges-till he fell covered with wounds: fell, with all the magnanimity of Cæsar himself, when, folding his mantle round him, he sank upon the pavement.

THE FLOWER GARDEN NEAR THE ALPS.

LINGERINGLY creeping, as an old man creeps,
With heavy knapsack, and a heavier load
Of days all lead, and sorrows closely packed,
I, marking how the shadows of the pines
That far to westward rimmed the wheaten field,
Were changing fast to copper all its gold,
And shot their jagged outlines to my feet,
Unslung my burden, and on hollow stump
Of beech by lightning fell'd, at ease reclined,
Looked out for town, or hamlet, there to lodge,
Until the sun, now setting, rose again.

For years I've known no other home than this;
A one-night's home in hut, or hall, or cell;
Or village inn, or drearier hostelry—
The Parvenu Palace, such as those that flaunt
Along the shores of Leman and Lucerne.

Skirting the road, a beechwood showed its front
Of silvery green sun-lighted, to the sky
Without a cloud, and mellowing into eve;
Behind, the land rose gently, grove and field;
And all before, a long broad valley stretched,
Banked by a woody slope, like that whereon
I now reposed, and further still a range

Of mountains waved in forms grotesquely grand;
One, like the figure of a sleeping knight

Carved on some ancient tomb; spurr'd heel, and hands
Upturned in prayer, and helmet, all complete,—
To sculptured calm, and stillness of the grave:
One, sharp as thorn, and one, with clustering folds
Set in a circle, like a giant rose

Turned into stone, and here and there sun-flecked
With tawny streaks; for so by distance dwarfed,
Shewed the bare rocks the bones of those huge hills;

Patches that gleamed among the purple grey,
And cloud-like shadows of their mantling pines.
Niched in between two forests on the brow
Of the opposing upland, rose a form

Too bright for cloud, and yet too near to Heaven
For aught of earth, a glistening snowy dome,-
Mont Blanc, the mountain-king;-I knew him well,
Tho' twenty leagues at least between us lay.
He shewed above the intervening heights,
An angel amongst men, wearing their form,
Earthly in this, but in all else divine.
Below, veiled lightly by the rising mist,
A donjon's peaked roof, ruddily grey
Peered thro' the foliage drooping to the vale
Now all in shade, and cut across, and closed
By an outjutting headland dark with firs:
Ridge over ridge of paling blue beyond
Went on to meet the mountains of Savoy;
And whitely gleamed Mont Blanc above them all.
And then, as what is nearest oft is last
Beheld, and we the happy Far-away

Seek, ever turning from the unblest Near,

Nor know, where'er we are, the beautiful

Flies from before us; such the curse, our doom;
And what is bare beneath our tread, when past
Our footstep, blooms to loveliness again;
The Far-off thornless still and Paradise.

For the first time, I noticed by the road
A gabled tenement, half house, half barn,

And round it glowed a garden bright with flowers ;-
A thing so rare in Switzerland, where all
Of beauty seems to cling around the Alps,
And leaves but sober usefulness to wreathe
The smile of home in garden or in house,
My wandering gaze arrested, that had strayed
Willingly further, ever prone to range
O'er the remote ideal; and I rose,
Pricked by a sudden fancy to behold
More near this marvel of embellishment;
Nor lessen'd was my wonderment, to see
No rustic garden set with flowers half weeds,
But a botanic treasury, enriched
With rarest plants from India to the pole;

Each labell'd at the root, the Latin name,

Class, order, all exact in science, shewn :

And sight more strange, and piteous more than strange,
An old man worked among the flowers and wept;
His bent form shivering as he sobb'd; the while,
With hand as careful as a mother's held

Beneath her first-born, he tied up the stems
The wind had broken;-now, in that parterre
Whereon he toiled were none but Alpine plants
Cradled in snow, and rocked by hurricanes;
Hence more I marvell'd why such carefulness
He shewed for these, that least had needed care;
And I, with that familiarity

Common to age and childhood;-we, the old,
Each unto each as readily become

Counsellor and intimate, as they the young
Playmate and fellow, such the force to bind
Of joy and sorrow, on the marge of time,-
-My head uncovering, reverence due as much
Unto his tears, as to his hoary locks,

Questioned him straightly, but with tone subdued,
"Whence those exotics, and that group as rare
Reft from their glacier home; lastly in words
Of courteous sympathy forgotten now,

Wherefore he wept in working?"

Then he said,

"They are not mine, these flowers, they are my son's, Or were, or are, I know not which, for he

I think among the palms and asphodels,

Still cares in Heaven for these his earthly pets.
He loved them, sir! he loved them to the last,
And cultured them with hand so bloodless thin,
You saw Death through it: but I'll tell you all.
My dear, dear boy! alas! not always dear;
When fresh from God he came to me, I scowled,
And loathed to look at him,-exchanged, not given,
So felt I then,-bartered for one more dear,
My youth's elect, whose life was claimed for his:
Her soul went by his cradle to her home;

Her true, true home, more fitted to her need,
Than the coarse labour of my hands could rear.
Ah! sir, I turned from him in hate, until,
With mother's tongue made eloquent by death,
She spake for him who could not speak himself,

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