e thick layer of fibre
within, he places the shell in his mouth, and swallows with evident
relish the fresh liquid which flows as he crushes it between his
grinders.

The natives of the peninsula of Jaffna always look for the periodical
appearance of the elephants, at the precise time when the fruit of the
palmyra palm begins to fall to the ground from ripeness. In like manner
in the eastern provinces where the custom prevails of cultivating what
is called _chena_ land (by clearing a patch of forest for the purpose of
raising a single crop, after which the ground is abandoned, and reverts
to jungle again), although a single elephant may not have been seen in
the neighbourhood during the early stages of the process, the Moormen,
who are the cultivators of this class, will predict their appearance
with almost unerring confidence so soon as the grains shall have begun
to ripen; and although the crop comes to maturity at different periods
in different districts, herds are certain to be seen at each in
succession, as soon as it is ready to be cut. In these well-timed
excursions, they resemble the bison of North America, which, by a
similarly mysterious instinct, finds its way to portions of the distant
prairies, where accidental fires have been followed by a growth of
tender grass. Although the fences around these _chenas_ are little more
than lines of reeds loosely fastened together, they are sufficient, with
the presence of a single watcher, to prevent the entrance of the
elephants, who wait patiently till the rice and _coracan_ have been
removed, and the watcher withdrawn; and, then finding gaps in the fence,
they may be seen gleaning among the leavings and the stubble; and they
take their departure when these are exhausted, apparently in the
direction of some other _chena_, which they have ascertained to be about
to be cut.

There is something still unexplained in the dread which an elephant
always exhibits on approaching a fence, and the reluctance which he
displays to face the slightest artificial obstruction to his passage. In
the fine old tank of Tissa-weva, close by Anarajapoora, the natives
cultivate grain, during the dry season, around the margin where the
ground has been left bare by the subsidence of the water. These little
patches of rice they enclose with small sticks an inch in diameter and
five or six feet in height, such as would scarcely serve to keep out a
wild hog if he attempted to force his way throu