Published in The Waukegan Daily Sun on 10/22/1897.
An Elephant that would not neglect a baby it was caring for.
    Marie A. Millie, in St. Nicholas, tells a number of “Stories of Elephants.” Mrs Millie says: Some time before the elephant hunt I have described my husband was at a station in Bengal. His work kept him out nearly all day, and, being ill, I used to lie for hours in a long garden chair on the veranda, too weak to read or enjoy any more exciting amusement than my eyes supplied to me.
    We had three elephants for our tents and baggage, and one dear creature used to feed from my hands every day and seemed as gentle as any pet dog or cat.
    One of our government chaprasis was particularly devoted to her and invariably shared his meal of fruit or flour cakes with his dumb friend. On a particularly hot day the chaprasis, to my surprise, placed his tiny child of 6 months at the elephant’s feet, warning her expressively that the infant was in her charge and was to be cared for till his return. I myself was an eyewitness of her wonderful sagacity. Large banana trees and fig trees grew around, and, to my surprise, the elephant broke off one of the former’s spreading leaves, held it like a fan in her truck and from time to time gracefully waved it over the slumbering child, whether to temper the heat of the atmosphere or to keep off flies, I am unable to say. The gentle way in which she moved her feet over the child and across to each side astounded me. I sent for a white loaf and some oranges, and calling her by name [she was never chained], tried in vain to tempt her to any side on the low veranda. Nothing would induce her to leave her charge. The warm air and monotonous wave of the swinging fan overpowered me with drowsiness, to which I yielded, and after a sleep of some duration, I was awakened by quiet, subdued snores beside me. To my surprise, I found that the chapprasis had just returned to his offspring, and the elephant stood near the veranda beside me patiently and gently waiting  for the tempting dainties.
Post a Comment