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and whole acres may be seen thus ploughed up. Elephants consume an immense quantity of food, and pass the greater part of the day and night in feeding. Like the whale in the ocean, the elephant on land roams over wide and extensive tracts. He is extremely particular in always frequenting the freshest and most verdant districts of the forest, and when one district is parched and barren, he will forsake it for years, and wander to great distances in quest of better pasture.
The elephant entertains an extraordinary horror of man, and a child can put a hundred of them to flight, by passing a quarter of a mile to windward; and when thus disturbed, they go a long way before they halt. It is surprising how soon these sagacious animals are aware of the presence of a hunter in their domains. When one troop has been attacked, all the other elephants frequenting the district are aware of the fact within two or three days, when they all forsake it, and migrate to distant parts. The elephant is more inaccessible and more rarely seen than any other quadruped, except some rare antelopes. They choose for their resort the most lonely and secluded depths of the forest, at a very great distance from the rivers or fountains at which they drink. In warm weather they visit these waters nightly, but in cool and cloudy weather they drink only every third or fourth day. About sundown the elephant leaves his midday haunt, and commences his march to the fountain, probably from twelve to twenty miles distant. This he generally reaches between the hours of nine and midnight, when having slaked his thirst, and cooled his body by spouting large volumes of water over his back with his trunk, he resumes the path to his forest solitudes. Having slept, they proceed to feed, exten
sively spreading out from one another, and proceeding in a zigzag course, they smash and destroy all the finest trees which lie in their way. The number of trees which a herd of bull elephants will thus destroy is incredible. They are extremely capricious, and on coming to a group of five or six trees, they break down, not unfrequently, the whole of them, when perhaps, having tasted only one or two small branches, they pass on, and continue their wanton work of destruction.
The appearance of the elephant is inconceivably majestic and imposing. His gigantic bulk and colossal height, combined with his sagacity and peculiar habits, impart to him an interest which no other animal can call forth. The pace of the elephant, when undisturbed, is a bold, free, sweeping step, and from the spongy formation of his foot, his tread is extremely light and inaudible, and all his movements are attended with a peculiar gentleness and grace. This, however, only applies to the elephant when roaming undisturbed in his jungle, for when once roused by the hunter, he proves the most dangerous enemy, and is far more difficult to conquer than any other beast of chase.—Gumming.
LESSON XXIII. THE WAY TO CUBE PBIDE.
Now, I suppose, that having tried,
The lowly Savioub will attend,
And strengthen you and stand your friend.
Tell Him the mischief that you find
For ever working in your mind,
And beg His pardon for the past,
And strength to overcome at last.
But then you must not go your way,
And think it quite enough to pray;
That is but doing half your task,
For you must watch, as well as ask.
You pray for strength, and that is right,
But then it must be strength to fight,
For where's the use of being strong,
Unless you conquer what is wrong?
Then look within, ask every thought,
If it be humble as it ought.
Put out the smallest spark of Pride,
The very moment 'tis descried;
And do not stay to think it o'er,
For while you wait, it blazes more.
If it should take you by surprise,
And beg you just to let it rise,
And promise not to keep you long,
Say, " No: the smallest Pride is wrong."
And when there's something so amiss,
That Pride says, "Take offence at this,"
Then, if you feel at all inclined
To brood upon it in your mind,
And think revengeful thoughts within,
And wish it were not wrong to sin;
Oh, stop at once; for if you dare
To wish for sin, that sin is there!
'Twill then be best to go and pray
That God would take your pride away;
Or if just then you cannot go,
Pray in your thoughts, and God will know;
And beg His mercy to impart
That best of gifts,—a humble heart.
Remember, too, that you must pray, '•.
And watch and labour every day;
Nor think it wearisome or hard,
To be for ever on your guard.
No, every morning must begin
With resolutions not to sin;
And every evening recollect
How much you've failed in this respect!
Ask whether such a guilty heart
Should act a proud or humble part:
For as the Saviodb was so mild,
Inquire if Pride becomes a child;
And when all other means are tried,
Be humble that you've so much pride.
LESSON XXIV. USE OF MOUNTAINS.
The numberless varieties in the contour and elevation of mountains diversify the surface of the earth, furnish every variety of grand and beautiful scenery, and minister to the gratification of its rational inhabitants. But they have been made to subserve far higher purposes, by the care of Him who called them into being. As the boundaries of nations, they offer a check to intercommunication which seems a disadvantage; but the difficulties connected with aggressive wars between communities thus separated, have undoubtedly contributed to promote peace and maintain independence.
The high hills are a refuge for the wild goats, and the rocks for the conies; and the friends of liberty and religion have often found a secure asylum in their fastnesses from the invasion of arbitrary power. The winds, stopped in their progress by gigantic walls, are diverted from their course; for, incapable of being pent up, they escape by counter-currents in various directions, contributingmore entirely to combine anew the atmosphere, and preserve it pure and salubrious. The clouds, arrested by the same obstacle, have their vapours condensed by contact with the chilled summits, and yield their moisture in abundant rains to supply the springs and streams, while the perpetual snows that crown the loftier heights furnish inexhaustible reservoirs of water for the mighty rivers. Capricious as the distribution and elevation of mountains at first sight appears, neither of these elements have been arbitrarily settled, but arranged with reference to the accommodation of man, and plainly indicate a beneficent, designing mind. Why is not the general mass of the Andes as elevated as its projecting summits? In that case, man never could have crossed the range; and towns situated within a comparatively short distance of each other, but on opposite sides of the chain, as Valparaiso and Mendoza, Arica and La Pas, Guayaquil and Cuenca, would have been as much separated, to all purposes of commerce and intercourse, as if the Atlantic had rolled between them. Why, also, is not the mass of the Alps as elevated as that of the Andes, and the Ural as high as the Alps? In that case, all their present passes would be closed to the access of man; and the countries on opposite sides, Italy and Switzerland, European and Asiatic Russia, could only communicate around the extremities of the