also Mr. Henry Irving, the great actor, and several other wellknown ladies and gentlemen.

One poor old lady gave me several cakes and bottles of soda water to be given to Jumbo on the passage.

Jumbo was somewhat alarmed at first by the noise of the machinery and the rolling of the steamship; but I was always at his side, and managed to calm him so that he became quite a sailor when he got his sea legs on.

We arrived at last, and Jumbo seemed to be delighted. He trumpeted out his joy, as much as to say, “Ah! Mr. Scott, we are at last in the ‘land of the free and the home of the brave.’ ” When Jumbo’s house was hoisted on the dock ten horses were hitched to the car upon which it was placed. Then two of his brother elephants, called “pushers,” put their immense heads to the back of the house, and at a signal the horses commenced to draw and the elephants to push; and after an hour’s work we arrived at Madison Square Garden, where Jumbo was released from his narrow quarters, and seemed so joyful at his freedom that he twined his trunk around me in an ecstasy of delight.

CHAPTER IX.

JUMBO’S HABITS, GOOD AND BAD, AND HIS GREAT POPULARITY.

I beg in all modesty to state that Jumbo instinctively is as intelligent and sensitive on all matters pertaining to his race as the average young man or maiden of the same time of life. Let me with all modesty illustrate: Jumbo is very regular in his diet and all the habits of life—he never drinks liquor or aught else before eating; he never drinks while he is “breaking” or masticating his food.

Jumbo’s diet is composed of hay, oats, beans, onions, cabbages, beetroot, and bread; his drink is chiefly water and medicinally he can stand a big dram of whiskey.

Jumbo’s sleeping hours are not near so good when chained up as when he is loose and at liberty to exercise himself. He worries and chafes at being chained by the leg, and, like all other creatures, prefers his liberty, and is much happier, as well as healthier, when at large.

I have considerable difficulty with Jumbo when travelling on the steam cars, for then Jumbo is like the dog in the manger. He can neither sleep himself, nor will he let me sleep. The shaking and jar of the train, the worrying noises, etc., keep him in a constant ferment of nervous excitement, and he gives me little chance for sleep. I no sooner get just nicely off into a doze than his trunk is groping into my little bed, feeling all round my body to find my face, to ascertain if I am there, so as to awake me to talk to him. Sometimes he is so fidgety during the night that neither of us get any sleep at all. Jumbo gets worried by this mode of travelling to such an extent that if I do not get up to talk to him when he calls me, as above described, he begins to lash his trunk against the sides of the car, and to save the car from being broken to pieces I have to get up and play with and talk to him.

He drinks when he wants to, and, although he is held fast by a cable to the earth a large portion of his time, he has sufficient sense or instinct to tell me when he wants a drink of water. Jumbo is a great “teetotaler,” and if my temperance friends want a powerful illustration of a good, healthy, strong, and most powerful frame that practises habits of temperance, either on the “alcohol business” or any other of the many intemperate ways of man and beast, they may refer to my Jumbo as a specimen. And they will not make the reference in vain, for I may observe that the youth of this country and Great Britain, as well as many other countries, are familiar with Jumbo, they having seen him and shouted praises to him with all their dear young hearts; why, the world has no idea of the joy and happiness I have experienced, as I have marched along through the masses of the human family, listening to the praises of the “shouting young fry” of all lands when Jumbo passed along. If I may be pardoned, and I say it with all reverence and humility, the shouting at Jerusalem for the “Son of Man,” when he rode triumphantly on an ass, could not have exceeded the shout that has gone up from the children of the United States, as they have watched and waited long hours to get a sight of Jumbo as he has left the “greatest show on earth,” and marched down to the dock or to the railway station in the different towns and cities of the United States; why, I have seen them by thousands, when they couldn’t find fifty cents to get into the show, ready to pay a quarter of a dollar to just go inside and have one peep at Jumbo. “It’s all we want to see, and we wont look at anything else; we don’t care about the balance, but oh! let us see Jumbo.” My heart has often been pained when I have seen these struggling crowds crying out for a peep at the finest and most intelligent animal the world has ever seen, and when I have led him forth down the road to the depot my heart was made glad and thankful that Jumbo was appreciated, praised, and shouted for. Sometimes it was a perfect ovation. The people with upturned faces would look on, and with flowing handkerchiefs and throats almost rent with effort they would call out, “Here’s Jumbo! here’s Jumbo!” “Hello, Jumbo!” “Welcome, Jumbo! you’re a greater wonder than what we expected, Jumbo.” “Good-by, dear old Jumbo!” “We shan’t see you again, Jumbo!”

I meant to say before this that Jumbo heartily hates and abominates rats, and it is no wonder, for when he was young and weak, after coming to my care, he was almost devoured by them. Very often in the dead of night I have been awakened by poor Jumbo’s groans, as if in pain and trouble, and, when I hastened to see what was the matter, I have beheld the rats by hundreds gnawing his hoofs, and snapping viciously at his legs and tail. In my rage, I have often, with the aid of my good short stick, and by the light of a bull’s-eye lantern, slaughtered them by the score. This method I found did not check them. So I put my inventive faculties to work, and made a peculiar, though simple, trap that soon cleaned out the rodents. Jumbo really seemed to thank me for the deliverance, judging by his affectionate antics.

CHAPTER X.

ACCIDENTS CAUSED HIS KEEPER BY JUMBO; ALSO, HOW HE SAVED HIS KEEPER’S LIFE.

Once after arriving at Jersey City from the West on the steam cars, from which place we were about to go by float to Brooklyn, we had to be shunted off the main line onto a switch to let the mail train pass. I was in Jumbo’s car, and he was standing up, I was on the off side from the train, about the middle of Jumbo’s body, when up came the puffing locomotive, snorting and whistling, rushing past from behind, and as Jumbo could not turn around in his car to see what was up, he just gave one lurch from the train side when the steam went through the grating of his car, and came over, catching me quite tightly between his side and the side of the car. He gave me such a squeeze that I don’t want any more like it. I have always been on my guard ever since. I was slightly hurt, but it was not of much consequence.

This occurred at first when we commenced riding in steam cars, a thing Jumbo and I were not used to.

Jumbo was awfully sorry, and grieved over my absence like a little girl left without its mamma in the company of strangers.

On our way from the city of New York, going down to the boat, Jumbo somehow or other put his forefoot down on my big toe and smashed it. I am inclined to think it was my own fault, as I was gazing about me, admiring the immense crowds that were swaying to and fro on each side of us, hardly leaving room to walk, and I suppose my attention being for the moment engaged I