ave seen it expressed in many works,
that the elephant shuns rough and rocky ground, over which he moves
with difficulty, and that he delights in level plains, etc., etc. This
may be the case in Africa, where his favorite food, the mimosa, grows
upon the plain, but in Ceylon it is directly the contrary. In this
country the elephant delights in the most rugged localities; he rambles
about rocky hills and mountains with a nimbleness that no one can
understand without personal experience. So partial are elephants to
rocky and uneven ground that should the ruins of a mountain exist in
rugged fragments along a plain of low, thorny jungle, five chances to
one would be in favor of tracking the herd to this very spot, where
they would most likely be found, standing among the alleys roamed by
the fragments heaped around them. It is surprising to witness the
dexterity of elephants in traversing ground over which a man can pass
with difficulty. I have seen places on the mountains in the
neighborhood of Newera Ellia bearing the unmistakable marks of
elephants where I could not have conceived it possible for such an
animal to stand. On the precipitous sides of jungle-covered mountains,
where the ground is so steep that a man is forced to cling to the
underwood for support, the elephants still plough their irresistible
course. In descending or ascending these places, the elephant a always
describes a zigzag, and thus lessens the abruptness of the inclination.
Their immense weight acting on their broad feet, bordered by sharp
horny toes, cuts away the side of the hill at every stride and forms a
level step; thus they are enabled to skirt the sides of precipitous
hills and banks with comparative case. The trunk is the wonderful
monitor of all danger to an elephant, from whatever cause it may
proceed. This may arise from the approach of man or from the character
of the country; in either case the trunk exerts its power; in one by
the acute sense of smell, in the other by the combination of the sense
of scent and touch. In dense jungles, where the elephant cannot see a
yard before him, the sensitive trunk feels the hidden way, and when the
roaring of waterfalls admonishes him of the presence of ravines and
precipices, the never-failing trunk lowered upon the around keeps him
advised of every inch of his path.

Nothing is more difficult than to induce a tame elephant to cross a
bridge which his sagacity assures him is insecure;