use, out of the way, ready for next time, and as nicely placed as if human hands had put it there.

A few years ago, an elephant in London was taught to take part in a play. She came in and marched very properly in a procession. At the waving of her keeper's hand, she would kneel down and salute any individual, or put a crown on the head of the true prince. She would eat and drink with great propriety of manner, and make her reverence to the audience. But all this is nothing to what the elephants were taught by the Romans. The keepers, by treating their elephants with the utmost kindness, taking care of them as to health, and doing every thing to make them happy, acquired over them the greatest power. The elephants learned to love music. They were at first frightened by the loud instruments; but, after a while, became very fond of all, particularly of the gentle flute, at which they would show their delight by beating time with their great feet. The keepers accustomed them to the sight of great multitudes of people. At one time, when a particular exhibition of the docility of elephants was required, twelve of the most sagacious and well trained were made to march into the theatre with a regular step. At the voice of their keeper, they moved in harmonious measure, sometimes in a circle, and sometimes divided into parties, scattering flowers around them. In the intervals of the dance, they would beat time to the music, and were careful to keep in proper order. After this display, the elephants were feasted, as the Romans were in the habit of feasting themselves, in grand style. Splendid couches were placed, ornamented with paintings and covered with tapestry. Before the couches, upon tables of ebony and cedar, was spread the banquet, in vessels of gold and silver. When the feast was prepared, the twelve elephants marched in; six gentleman elephants dressed in the robes of men, and six lady elephants attired in women's clothes. They lay down in order upon the couches; and then, at a certain signal, extended their trunks, and eat their suppers with the most praiseworthy moderation and propriety. "Not one of them," says the historian of the elephant, "appeared the least voracious, or manifested the least desire for more than his share of the food, or an undue proportion of the delicacies. They were as moderate also in their drink, and received the cups that were presented to them with the greatest decorum and temperance."

The elephants were taught to hurl javelins, and catch them with their trunks, and to pretend to fight with each other, for the amusement of their warlike masters, and were taught also to perform a dance. Finally, these wonderful animals would do what you would think was utterly impossible. You remember, when the circus riders were here seeing a man walk and dance on a rope."

"Yes, Mother," said Frank; "but an elephant could not do that, I'm sure."

"Historians of Rome, supposed to give true accounts, say that the elephants were taught to walk along a rope forward and then backward. One elephant is described as walking up a slanting rope to the roof of the theatre with a man on his back."

"I should not have liked to be the man on his back," said Harry.

"It is as astonishing, perhaps more so, that a horse has been taught to do similar things. When I was in Paris, I saw some horses dance a quadrille very respectably, and keep excellent time. One of the Roman historians relates, "An elephant, having been punished for stupidity in executing some feat which he was required to learn, was observed, at night, endeavoring to practise what he had failed to perform in the daytime." It is mentioned that elephants have been observed practising their lessons by moonlight, without any directions from the keepers. Think what a good example elephants are for school boys. I have only told you a very little about this wonderful animal; yet enough, I hope, to make you want to read some of the many books about him. You have, I think, read of the story of the elephant who was wounded in his proboscis or trunk, and, in his anger, unintentionally killed his keeper, and of what the keeper's wife did."

"No, Mother," said Frank; "we have never read it. What did she do?"

"In her despair, not knowing what she did, she held out her son, and said to the raging animal, "Take him too." The angry elephant became quiet. He seemed to understand the agony of the poor woman. He gently lifted and placed upon his back the little child, and ever after obeyed him for a master."

"You know the story in Evenings at Home, Mother, of the Elephant and the Cobbler, how the fellow pricked the elephant's trunk, and how the elephant punished him by squirting muddy water all over him."

"Yes. The elephant's trunk is so susceptible that nothing enrages him so much as any wound on it. He cannot bear patiently the slightest scratch.

Now I will tell you a story of a lion. An English gentleman, who was living in India, had a fancy to see what effect extreme gentleness, and kindness, and very simple diet would have upon the character of the lion. The gentleman had the good fortune to get a baby lion for the experiment. He made a real pet of him. He fed him with bread and milk and rice, and such things, and took care always to satisfy him with food. The young lion loved his master, who was always very kind to him, and who was really very fond of his lionship. This man lived, as in India a gentleman often does, in a house by himself, and could easily have his friend lion with him, without annoying any one. The baby grew bigger and bigger, and became a good-sized, full-grown lion. He was gentle and happy, full of play, and rather a pleasant companion to his two-legged friend. Whether the lion ever roared for his master's amusement, the friend who told me this story did not say.

At last, this gentleman wished to return to England to see his old mother. He was too much attached to his lion to leave him, and so took him in the place of a dog. The lion was very good all the voyage. No one had a word to say against him. His conduct and manners were faultless. He played with the sailors, he obeyed his master, and, in short, was a very quiet, well-behaved, human lion. When the gentleman arrived in England, as soon as he could leave the ship, he called for a carriage to take him to his mother. When he got into the carriage, the lion jumped in after him. "Your honor," said the driver, "I'm afraid of that beast." "O, never mind," said the gentleman; "he'll not hurt you." "But, your honor, I never in my born days took a lion in my carriage. It's not a place for such brutes." "There's always a first time," said the gentleman. "Here's a crown for my lion; and now get on; I can't wait." The cabman, thinking it wise to make the best of things, and not quarrel with a man who had a lion for a friend, stepped up on his box, and drove away rattlety-bang to Regent's Park, some three or four miles' drive. The lion was much astonished, and sat bolt upright on his hind legs, looking out of the window. He did not appreciate the BEAUTIES of London; he was disgusted with the noise, and growled a little. The driver heard him, and drove all the faster. Poor Lord Lion, his temper was tried; but he bore it better than most lions would. At last, the cab stopped at the house of the gentleman's mother. He sprang out, and rang the bell: "Does Mrs. B. live here?" "Yes, sir." "Is she well?" The footman turned pale as ashes, and scampered off as if he thought the lion would devour him. The gentleman ran up stairs, and the lion after him. In another moment, the arms of the son were around his mother. Presently, the lady saw the lion. She had heard of her son's pet, and saw she was in no danger. She begged her son, however, to put him down in the yard and keep him chained, or she should not have a servant in the house. The lion was not happy chained. The gentleman, finding, moreover, that he could not go into the streets with his friend without being followed by a mob, at last placed him in the Tower, where there were other lions, and gave many